Undone

This evening should have seen me been putting the finishing touches to April's Photo Challenge. I say should: all contributions were in (and there's some doozies, believe me), text imported, leaving just my non-scripted bon mots to add and away we go - PUBLISH. Ooh, what's that bit of text doing there? No worries, move it. No, delete it. Undo. Nothing happening. Try again. Undo. Still not doing it. Undo. Oh no.

Do you really need me to tell you what happened next? Every blogger's worst nightmare: EVERYTHING DISAPPEARED. One minute it was there...

Anyway, all this is by way of a preamble to letting you know that PC will be (at least) a couple of days late. And apologies to Alyson in The Highlands and Walter in Germany and anyone else who would have heard the word FUCK! coming from my office both loudly and repeatedly; such was the sheer volume of my cussing. I was not a happy chappy. 

I feel I'm in need of a potter's wheel moment. So, here are some pictures I took on Saturday morning in Hull. The famous Anlaby Road flats.  

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To Heron back (#3)

I was in Hull yesterday visiting my Auntie Margaret. My dad's younger sister has recently lost her husband, my Uncle Brian. It's very strange visiting her and seeing an empty armchair in the corner of the lounge where Brian has been sitting since they moved in to their modest semi back in 1966. But my auntie has got a fantastic friendship circle so will not be all alone as she mourns her soulmate (they got hitched a week before Margaret's 20th birthday and were married for 67 years).

Whilst driving out of Hull have a guess what I saw? Those bloody Herons are everywhere! 

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This will be my last post for s few days: I'm going on a wee road trip with my friend, Steve. Remember me telling you about XGenerationX? Well, Steve and I are off to Hebden Bridge tomorrow; followed by Glasgow on Wednesday and Newcastle on Thursday. And then on Friday night we round the week off with House of All at Leeds Brudenell.

It should be a blistering week (after the shitty year I've had it'll be good to slip anchor). I'm really looking forward to hearing Gen X's back catalogue being given a shot in the arm; Steve and I last heard Ready Steady Go, King Rocker et al a couple of years ago when Generation Sex (with Idol, James, Jones & Cook) rocked up at Wolverhampton's Wulfrun Hall.

Must go and pack my bag. See you next week.

Putting you through now

Wow, it's the 1st of August already; where did July go? Those of you still playing along at home will know that last month I set Phone Boxes as August's photo challenge. Ben Dakin's brilliant book There Go the Pips was the inspiration to go out and photograph this endangered species of British street furniture. And, knowing I have a few dedicated followers dotted around, hither and thither, this sceptred isle, I was hoping for a good spread; I wasn't disappointed.

A timely image to kick proceedings off: Hull Images (a great Twitter feed documenting my home town) has come in with a Pride decorated box taken in the city last weekend. What a great way to start. A big thank you to Dave Wise.

I told you I had a readership scattered far and wide - Stevie at Charity Chic got in touch: ''Hi John, my phone box entry is from the wonderfully named Strathbungo district on Glasgow's Southside.'' Cheers, Stevie.

Rol at My Top Ten next. Unable to find anything in his archive, Rol told me he was forced to go out, phone in hand (oh, the irony), to visit one of the only few remaining boxes in the area. ''This one has been turned into a mini library. Not sure what the local charity shops make of this, but it's full of second hand books and DVDs.'' Thank you, Rol. A few round here have gone down the library route, in fact I've got one further down this piece.

Another cracking Twitter contributor next. Carl Thompson appears to spend much of his time documenting the cities of Salford and Manchester and his photo archive will, I'm sure, be invaluable to future generations of historians and psychogeographers alike. This image, however, was taken some 200 miles south: ''Gasping, dying, but somehow still alive. Phone box, Limehouse, London.'' I absolutely love this shot, Carl. Thank you.

The Number One Son has got in on the act this month. This came in a little earlier. (James & I were both listening to BBC's Test Match Special at the time - following the Oval Test): ''The two shitty old phone boxes I walk past every day covered in shitty 'street art' and rained on by the same shitty rain that cost England the Ashes.'' Thanks, James. File under grim.

Swiss Adam has been out and about in his hood: ''This one, an old K6, is in a front garden not far from us. The owner has a collection of signs and bits & bobs but the phone box is the centrepiece. And rightly so.'' Nice one, Adam

My friend Riggsby in America comes bearing bad news this month: Hi John, I've not found a single working box to contribute to this month's theme. I did snap an old fashioned (empty) British box but it's just an oddity outside an English pub on India Street in San Diego.'' As I told Richard, there appears to have been a worldwide cull on these once omnipresent communication icons. It's really quite dispiriting.

Another newbie: my friend David asks, ''Does this count? I think there's a phone in it.'' Of course it counts! Thanks, David.

A fellow blogger next. Khayem, from the excellent Dubhed site, writes: ''This one is in my home village on the high street next to a pub and a bus stop. Not the most inspired of shots, but quite sad with one of the 'telephone' signs smashed and lost.''

''Same phone, different angle, the hazy sunlight making it seem like the phone box has just landed a la Doctor Who's Tardis.'' K goes on to say, and I love this bit, ''Note the phone handset cord is twisted. I always found this when using phone boxes back in the day.'' Quite. Thank you, K. Good to see a working K8, even with a twisted cord! 

Martin at New Amusements, someone who was greatly missed at York's BlogCon 23, has not only a tasty photograph, but what Steve Wright would call, I'm sure, a factoid: ''The little red caps appearing on top of some phone boxes are a BT pilot to make Wi-Fi available for their customers when they're out and about; basically turning phone boxes into hotspots.'' Thank you, Martin. Every day's a school day and all that.

The Swede got in under the radar just as I was typing this: 'Sitting outside my local sorting office is this magnificent beast, which I'd assumed contained a defibrillator, but upon closer inspection is an actual working phone box - Marvellous!'' Marvellous, indeed! Thank you, TS. Always a pleasure doing business with you. 

Living in a large city I was able to find quite a few specimens, but I was mainly drawn to the scuzzier end of the spectrum and as you can see below this particular one (only a mile away from me) is, unsurprisingly, earmarked for a telephonic lethal injection.

It really is a pitiful sight...

Another quartet of dodgy phones, not always in dodgy areas, can I just say, but again, you wonder how long they've got left... 

Before I sign off I'll leave you with a couple of more upbeat images. A mini library that sits outside one of the University campuses in town (where I chanced upon a recent John Harvey). It also comes with a solar panel.

And finally, just around the corner from my auntie and uncle's place in Hull is one of the iconic Kingston Communications white K6 telephone boxes. Thank you to everyone who took the time to join in this month - see you next time...

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Next Month's Challenge

Imposing edifices: tall buildings, masts, towers, obelisks - you name it, if it's imposing I really want to see it. Ping them over to me by the 1st - that would be fab.

john[at]johnmedd[dot]com

Blurred

I had a good excuse for missing the opening night of Ian Prowse and Amsterdam's 2022 tour in Nottingham. I was in America. But I did catch them half way round; at the Adelphi in Hull. That was the night I lost it when Ian sang Does This Train Stop on Merseyside. It's what I do.

And then on Saturday we caught the train to Manchester and pulled in the last night: Gullivers in Manchester was ramming. It was also very hot. A small venue above a pub is my favourite environment to watch bands; always has been. If you've ever read my 50 odd gigs piece I wrote back in 2014, there's a fair smattering of pub gigs on there, dotted around the country, hither and thither. Which reminds me, I really must update that list.

Another small venue Ian's playing in a couple of weeks (solo, not with the band) is The Barrel House in Totnes. Ask me if I've got tickets. Of course I have! And, as you can see from the poster at the top of the page, Ian has already announced his Spring dates for '23; yep, I'm currently eyeing up Leeds and Sheffield. If any of these dates are near where you live (or even if they're not) I strongly urge you to blag a ticket. You won't regret it. 

Building bridges

In June 1981 the good people of New Holland in Lincolnshire were finally joined up - permanently - to their Yorkshire neighbours over the water. Although there'd been a ferry in operation since 1848 (various paddle steamers had navigated the shallow shifting sands of the mile wide Humber Gap), it was only when the Humber Bridge became a reality that Hull, and East Yorkshire in general, formally cemented relations with the country's second largest county. Measuring 1.38 miles in length it was the longest single span suspension bridge in the world for a while; these days it doesn't even make the Top 10.

I was in Hull again at the weekend visiting family and, as always, came back over the bridge; I pulled in at at Barton-on Humber for an ice cream (Wall's and bridges, anyone?) and took a couple of photos. These two were my favourites. As I tweeted later - I too could quite easily sit on a bench all day and just gaze at this most brilliant of structures.

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Postscript - 16 July 2022

Playing to my passion for all things philatelic, in addition to the commemorative stamp at the top of my piece, there were also a couple of interesting First Day Covers from the time which I thought I'd share with you below. I acquired these in the week and love them both; as you can see, the top one has been signed on the back by Coun. Alex Clarke, Chairman of the Humber bridge Board, no less.

It's been emotional

''Sorrows Away''

I've been racking up a few gigs just lately; after a dearth of live music for nigh on two years I can't begin to tell you how good it feels to be back out there in the pubs, clubs, theatres and concert halls lending support to as many bands bands and artists as I can - musicians who all had the rug pulled from under them so unceremoniously back in March 2020.

And since getting my gig legs again I've found that a lot of  the shows I've been to have almost bordered on a spiritual experience; not least when Ian Prowse came back for an encore and sang Does This Train Stop on Merseyside at The Adelphi in Hull a few weeks ago; just the sound of the opening chords was enough to tip me over the edge; I absolutely lost it. By the end I was an emotional wreck. Rachel Unthank was the same at Nottingham's Albert Hall last month when the 800+ audience began to sing the chorus of their brand new song - Sorrows Away - back to her and the band; she was sobbing uncontrollably. I knew exactly how she felt. 

Whether or not I'll fall apart when I catch the Hanging Stars later in the year is anyone's guess. I literally only discovered them a handful of days ago yet can't stop playing them. Their latest album Hollow Heart is sumptuous. I think it could be the most perfect collection of songs I've heard since Revolver. Yes, it really is that good.  

The Hanging Stars - Heavy Blue (2021)

Sarah Shiels

Fast & Bulbous Records are a brilliantly titled new micro label based in Hull and are going to be releasing a digital single every month during 2021. Now that's what I call a New Year's Resolution.

This month's offering is 'Fruits of Life' by 24 year old songwriter and multi instrumentalist Sarah Shiels. Sarah, formerly of Ming City Rockers and Black Delta Movement, also plays bass with fellow Hull musician Sally Currie a.k.a. The Dyr Sister.

Sarah's list of influences is very interesting, name-checking Elliott Smith, Leonard Cohen and Suzanne Vega; glimpses of which can be detected in the DNA of this her stunning debut recording. Sarah describes the song as an ode to the modern world, capturing that feeling of watching those who have the world in their hands time and time again throwing away the chance of happiness.

Sarah Shiels - Fruits of Life (2021)

Links:

https://distrokid.com/hyperfollow/sarahshiels/fruits-of-life

https://sarahshiels.bandcamp.com/

https://fastbulbous.bandcamp.com/

https://www.sarahshiels.com/

Hammonds

On Christmas Eve many years ago my heavily pregnant mother fell down a flight of stairs in a Hull department store. Although she probably jingled all the way, nothing was broken; not there and then anyway - however her waters did break four days later and, instead of being a January baby, I decided to make my way kicking and screaming into this world on December 28th.

The department store in question - Hammonds of Hull - has been lovingly recreated by artist and illustrator Nick Coupland in his new collection Modernist Lines, Brutalist Shapes. As you can see, the staircase which led to my 'early doors' all those years ago has been evoked perfectly in his pen and ink drawing.

My Life in 10 Objects (#1)

I've been listening to recent reruns of the excellent Radio 4 series A History of the World in 100 Objects. It's a history of humanity through a myriad of man made objects of ancient art, industry, technology, and arms dating back to 9000BC. This amazing programme is presented by Neil McGregor from the British Museum who curates an incredible collection, and pulls in priceless artefacts as diverse as Hoa Hakananai's Easer Island Statue, relics from the Byzantine Empire, Moche warrior pots and a Japanese bronze mirror from the 12th century. A truly epic series broken down into one hundred 15 minute nuggets. Absolutely riveting. I can't recommend it highly enough.

I only wish I could say the same for this new mini series of my own. My Life in 10 Objects is, I've got to be honest with you, far from riveting. Seriously; I don't even know how I have the temerity to even mention the Director of the British Museum in the same sentence as this cheapskate version of Mr. McGregor's award winning series that took four years to research. But, hey, what are you gonna do?

My life on this planet, such that it is, has seen men walk on the moon, the Beatles, punk rock and more internet porn than you can shake a shitty stick at. So how does a child of the 60s condense nearly six decades of love, life and happiness (mostly) into a clutch of objects that probably wouldn't even fill an average size suitcase? Good question. The items I have chosen are a hotchpotch of the everyday mingled with stuff that I turn to only occasionally but are every bit as poignant/important to me. And no, I haven't got anything in there as mundane as my car (or even my car keys) or my phone or my favourite winter coat; though my list of also rans at the end of the series that didn't quite make the cut will include, I'm sure, all sorts of flotsam and jetsam that help make up my dodgy DNA.

Today's inaugural offering is an item that despite me knowing exactly where in the house it resides, I tend to only seek it out when I allow my mind to wander; specifically when it wanders back to one of my earliest exposures to television. So between Watch with Mother (when I'd be around five) and Doctor Who (I was all of seven when I first encountered Patrick Troughton) came Captain Scarlet. Quite how the colours of all the characters who worked for Spectrum were ever conveyed through the medium of a black and white telly is something of a mystery, but as a very impressionable six year old I'm convinced I could see that Captain Scarlet was indeed wearing a shiny red uniform and that Captain Blue's was, er, blue. It must have had something to do with all the merchandise around at the time - TV21 comics, action figures and the like.

Pride of place in my 1967 bedroom, however, was given over to a Spectrum wallet. Pictured here you can see it came in a striking scarlet livery and, most importantly, contained a driving licence (a full ten years before I got behind the wheel of my Vauxhall Viva), permitting me to drive both a Spectrum Patrol Car (the sporty red one) and a Spectrum Pursuit Vehicle (SPV - the one you drove whilst facing backwards). I probably wasn't cognisant of the fact that opportunities to drive such vehicles in Kingston-upon-Hull in the mid-1960s were few and far between; but that didn't shake the notion in my mind that I could walk into a back street petrol station, show my licence to the owner who would then point me in the direction of a dilapidated out building wherein would be parked one of the above mentioned vehicles. Equally important information was contained within this magical document too: a short Bio of each spectrum member beneath a passport style photo. Scarlet, for instance, was actually Paul Metcalfe in real life; not surprisingly he hasn't even been born yet - his date of birth is given as December 17, 2036 in Winchester, England.

Funnily enough I've dug this wallet out more times during the last three months than I have my 'real' wallet; it still contains the same tenner in there and trusty pieces of plastic that I went into lockdown with.
The woman in the spine must have finished that book by now.

In an Ideal World...

My lockdown listen of the last seven days features one of rock and roll's unsung heroes: Henry Priestman - born in Hull, raised in Liverpool - is one of life's good guys. He's enjoyed a multi faceted career, but is probably best known for being one of the Christians - the 80s/90s combo featuring the three Christian* brothers, Garry, Roger and Russell. Devotees of David Hepworth and Mark Ellen's Word in Your Ear podcasts will be aware that a spin-off video version 'A Word in Your Attic' has been open for business throughout the lockdown, inviting guests to join them via their Webcams in a delightful show and tell format that I've found absolutely riveting. Henry Priestman's episode can be found here. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did. Indeed I would strongly urge anyone contemplating a life laundry to give it a coat of looking at.

As they should this equally beguiling piece of footage: Henry himself has been recording his own lockdown sessions in his garden shed. Here he is performing a beautiful arrangement of Ideal World - with a little help from his (socially distancing) friends.

Henry Priestman - Ideal World (2020)

* Onomasticians can rest easy - for the record, Priestman's middle name is Christian.

Diamonds are Forever

I drove to Hull today and spent some quality time with my Auntie Margaret and Uncle Brian. I can't believe they celebrated their Diamond Wedding Anniversary earlier this year, but celebrate it they did, even receiving a signed card from our reigning Monarch. Around the time this photo was taken I remember Brian, an electrician by trade, building me a bespoke external speaker for my tinny portable cassette player - giving it much needed Oomph! Their friends recently found the 70s snap, blew it up, framed it and gave it to them as a gift on their big day.  It's such a spontaneous photograph, I love it. 

David Ari Leon - Shine On You Crazy Diamond

How I Need You

It was great to share the same stage as Peter Lister last Sunday at the Brain Jar in Hull. Peter's songs move me in ways that sometimes catch me unawares, leaving their mark on me indelibly.

Last year, with a little help from this blog (as I later found out), Peter's tour de force This House made the Top 100 Songs of 2016. I've never thought of myself as a discoverer of new talent (in the same way, probably, that Pete doesn't consider himself to be new), but if one good thing came out of my temporary exile in North Yorkshire (2010-2017) then it was meeting Peter at York Songwriters and listening to, and being absolutely mesmerised by, his beautifully crafted songs.

How I Need You has been on constant rotation at Medd Towers (YO18 and NG5) all year, and has featured on many of my playlists. Not least the one I'm currently compiling for Andy and Monika ahead of seeing them both tonight (more on that story later).

Anyway, fill your boots with another Peter Lister masterpiece.

Tigers on Vaseline

Ziggy

Ziggy and the Spiders. No one was really sure where Ziggy hailed from - Bromley in Kent, probably - but everyone knows where the Spiders came from. And no, it's not the red planet. The Spiders: Mick Ronson, Woody Woodmansey and Trevor Bolder were all residents of Kingston upon Hull. That would have been a bit of a mouthful back in 1972 when Ziggy Stardust was looking for a name for his backing band. So, Mars it was then.

Waggy

It's not documented whether or not Ken Wagstaff (the greatest striker ever to have pulled a Hull City shirt on) was a Bowie fan or not. But in '72, Waggy and the Tigers were plying their trade in the old Second Division. In that same year The Spiders from Mars tour was in full flow.

Meanwhile, back in Hull, City (unlike now) were consistently under achieving: it would be another thirty years or more before they reached the top flight. Bowie, on the other hand, was on fire. Ziggy Stardust catapulted both him and his East Yorkshire band members front and centre - their mammoth UK and North America1972 campaign pulled in some prestigious dates in the US including New York's Carnegie Hall and the Winterland Auditorium in San Fransisco, before rounding off the year at London's Rainbow Theatre. Hull's itinerary, meanwhile, included exotic locations such as Preston North End. And Middlesborough. Although Waggy missed part of the season due to injury, he was still finding the back of the net. However, they would still finish the season nearer the bottom of the league than the top. Tigers on vaseline, indeed.

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Today's offering comes on the back of finishing my new song, 'Won't Fade Away'. It's a eulogy to Hull - the place where I was born. York Songwriters are putting on a gig in the summer in a little bar in the Fruit Market later in the summer - each of us playing a Hull themed ditty. Unfortunately I'll have moved by then, so will miss it. Here's the first verse:

I was born on the Beverley High Road

When Waggy and the Tigers played at Boothferry Park

And we'd go to the Land of Green Ginger

Have a few few beers...stumble home in the dark

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