Hounds Gate, Nottingham; The early name for the street was Hungate, and it was referred to as such in 1326 and appeared in this form on John Speed’s map of Nottingham of 1610. It is thought it received this name from being where part of the kennels for Nottingham Castle 100 attack hounds were situated.
We could do with bringing them back! Hehehe!
I hobbled up it this morning with the camera, and the brain in nostalgia-Mode! It is a sad sight nowadays. Abandoned retailers, and a muggers and druggies paradise. I have found out that 1098 crimes in May 2019 were reported within and half a mile. Big Issue Sellers, and Ice Cream vans, and muggers today. Rumour has it that two Nottingham policemen were spotted patrolling on foot in Hounds Gate in 2018, but we cannot confirm this overdramatic, ridiculously sensationalised claim.
This morning, there were few Nottinghaman’s about, being early in the day. Thus less chance of being mugged, sold some weed or a street beggar begging and his dog snapping at my feet! Hehehe!.
It is interesting to remember that the first town steward, John Collishaw, who was appointed in 1787 lived in Houndsgate and he only died so recently as 1809. The spectacular Bridge of Sighs, which connects the two portions of a great soft-goods warehouse and which spans Hounds Gate in really a charming manner, was erected in 1923. My father used to collect and deliver to it as late as 1959. He always called to see if they had any returns, when he was on the Nottingham run. I suspect that this might have been prompted by the threepence 3d, he was paid for each one he collected. I used to go with Dad on school holidays, and the slightly pleasantly built meaty, muscular young lady who managed the warehouse and office, was always a cheerful soul as I recall! Haha!
Another memory, was of a twenty-year lad, legless, totally drunk, and getting arrested, on a Wednesday night, in about 1966. Yes, it was me! Shame-Mode-Adopted!
Sister Jane swore she saw two customers in that Sub-Way store last month! Huh!
Towards the top of the road, I came across a self-advertised Cargo-Bike. I looked back and took this picture while the chap was busy organising his load. He really ought to fit an alarm to it, you know!
Closer to the top of Hounds Gate, was Ye Olde Salutation Inn. Claimed to be the second oldest pub in England along with theRoyal Children pub on Castle Gate nearby.
I mention this, because I am not a born-again recovering holier than thou alcoholic, and remember visiting both pubs many times in my drinking days. And by gum, they sold some great beer, and the atmosphere was great!
I exited Hounds Gate, up the paved path. On to what was called Granby Street in 1963 when it was built. This was a Whoopsiedangleplop moment for me. The three-wheeled trolley guide then toppled over, the toe was mercilessly stubbed again in the process, and a few well-chosen words were spoken. Well, no that’s a fib – they were not well-chosen at all, the just burst out!
The memories flooded back at the same time, though.
Finally, a photo from c1920 of Hounds Gate.
Not much changed aesthetically I think.
I’ll let you know when I look up what aesthetically means.
02:05hrs. After yesterday evenings nodding offs, I was not exactly surprised when I woke up with a bit of energy, after only four hours of proper sleep.
Off course, seeing the reminder note on the TV screen, for the Audio Clinic appointment, stirred me into an almost semi-lifelike mode. Of sorts, anyway.
As mind began to try and sort-out the talks ahead for the day and decided that getting the Tuesday post updated as far as possible, and as quickly as possible was the primary demand, the need of a wee-wee became apparent. So, I extracted my short, plump, wobbly bellied lumbering short body out of the £300, second-hand, near-dilapidated, rickety, gungy-beige coloured, c1968, tatty recliner. The stubbed toe was of little bother, as I stood, gained my balance, got the stick and hobbled over to the EGPWWB (Emergency Grey Plastic Wee-wee Bucket) and had an RWPSWW (Reluctant-Weak-Painful-Spraying-Wee-Wee). Not a very pleasant experience. I prayed that the following wee-wees would be more comfortable.
Being as yesterday, idle-Tuesday, I had not even got dressed or shaved, there was no hand-washing to be done. Guilty-Mode-Engaged!
So, to the kitchen and got the kettle on, and the sphygmomanometer and medications out. The health check results were Sys, 137, Dia 56, Pulse 91, and Temperature 34.1°c. These readings looked fair to me. Took the medications, and left taking the Furesomide water tablets, being as I was going to the clinic. Don’t want to get caught out.
I checked that the Audio appointment book was in the jacket pocket with the bus pass. Then got on with updating the Tuesday blog. The fingers, thankfully were not too bad, dancing-wise at the moment, so I got the diary completed by 04:30hrs, and sent off. And, only two RWPSWWs needed while doing it! Smug-Mode-Adopted!
I made another brew and got started on this post. The wee-wees increased in frequency (so much for not taking the Furesomide, that helped didn’t it? Huh!) They were now of the ELDOPWW (Extra-long-Drawn-Out-Persistent-Wee-Wee) mode. Ever changing again!
I was going to take a photo from the unwanted light & view-blocking new balcony with the tons of glass to clean that cannot be accessed, and I spotted the new INR result sheet on the floor between the c1968 recliner and the c1950 easy-chair. I put in where it should be kept.
It was raining a little, lightly, and the mist had cleared, apart from in the distance. I managed to open the side window with the metal spring clip opener failing in its efforts to again take a chunk of flesh out of the hand or finger, this time. Swank-Mode-Adopted!
The light coloured paint on the cladding of the flats brightened this picture nicely.
I was doing better than I thought I would, with the fingers behaving for once. (This can’t last, of course!) I must not get over-confident, and still take the stick with me when I walk anywhere, so as not get in a picklement when they kick-off again. An amazingly rare Logical-Inchcock-Mode-Adopted!
I made a Morrison order for next week, Wednesday I think, good and early.
Got the ablutions tended to. Bit of a rush job and the shower cut off once? Which frit me, cause I had just sprayed some antifungal on the tiles when it stopped – thank heavens it started again!
Mor hurrying and scurrying, got things ready, and black bags to the chute.
Off to the shed.
The rain had stopped as I hobbled, being overtaken, en route to the Nottingham City Homes, Winwood Flats, Oberstgruppenführer Wardens Temporary HQ, Toilet, Sarcasm & Insult distribution area, Rumourmongering Clinic. Tenants Socialisation Shed. Telling Inchcock off Zone. Things like china and pottery to be stolen from, and residents room.
I explained my worries to Deana about Josie, she said Josie had attended the free meal yesterday. So at least she must be feeling a bit better?
I took a shot of Winwood and Winchester Street flats as I went out to the bus stop. Where a gang of residents had huddled in the bus shelter, with lurkers surrounding it, stood on the road and scattered having chinwags. Haha!
The bus arrived, and I caught the L9 to town. Not feeling very good at the time. I suppose my EQ told me that things were not going to go well at the clinic… it was right!
I got off the bus on Upper Parliament Street, and sto0d and took this photograph, catching the ladies pink reflections in the bus shelter plastic windows, without realising it.
I made my way down Clumber Street street to the City Centre. Where I took a couple of pictures of the Council House from Slab Square, on my way to the Poundland Shop to see if they had any of the large Pork Farm pork pies in stock.
They hadn’t, but I got a ready-made BLT sandwich, steak pasties, and some handing out nibbles. I paid at the self-serve checkout without any cock-ups for once.
Then made my hobblingly up to Standard Hill and the high climb to the Audio Centre.
The feet were already aching and stinging. By the time I had manoeuvered my way up… Oh dear! The climb wasn’t really that bad – oh yes it was! Hehehe!
The simple, organised, smooth running Audi Centre visit: Huh!
I got in, booked in with the receptionist and was told to take a seat, so I did.
A lady came out and called my name. We trotted to a service room.
What was the problem? She asked. I replied, the audiologist (that impresses her, I think) on my last visit, told me to make this appointment, to have new ear-inserts made, as the current ones had either cracked or bent somehow.
She had a look, and told me that dewaxing must be done immediately and asked why I had let them ears get so bad and not been earlier to have them seen to?
I explained about the peripheral neurosis being diagnosed, and the Stroke and nine weeks in hospital and then a residential home had caused me to forget about putting in the daily olive oil. No response as such, not even an ‘Erm’ or ‘I see!’
You must have them seen to immediately, the was looks so bad and tight, it may have some effect on your stroke?
She left the room and returned having found out the nurse could fit me in for a channel vacuuming.
She led me out to the waiting hall and told me to take a seat, so I did.
After a while, not long at all, the nurse came out and called my name. She took me to her treatment room.
I really wish I had asked her if I could photograph the lump of wax she had removed from the right earhole. She said she’d been doing this job for fourteen years, and had never seen so much compacted wax removed before.
I will have to have another hearing test, and I must book an appointment again later. (The heart sank once more at the thought of more waiting)!
She told me to go out to the waiting area, and someone would call me. So I did.
A receptionist bloke called my name out, and I went to the desk. It seems the nurse had kindly told him of my problems and all the waiting time. plus difficulties in getting the clinic (I saw a bit of the note the Angel had written on my paperwork ♥)
He explained that usually, it would take two-three weeks for an appointment… My heart sank! However, if I could get in tomorrow morning for 09:00hrs, I could get in a just-cancelled slot! I jumped at the chance! The man made the appointment and wrote it in my attendance book for me, mentioning that it was the first time he’s seen one of these, they had been stopped over seventeen years ago. Haha!
Now the mind was racing as I left the building. Today will tire me out, then I will have to get ready to leave the flat by 07:10hrs in the morning to pay for and catch the number 40 bus to town… I must make sure I have the right change, £2-30 bus fare.
Another stop to catch my breath…
Then on Friday, I have the Podiatrist visit to go to, at the Sherwood Health Cente.
I was having a little brain-churning-fretting session! And somewhat confused. Humph!
Down Standard hill and into the City Centre, where the timing worked out poorly, as I had just missed the L9 bus, and had another hour to wait for the next one. Never mind! I had a hobble around taking some photographs.
Made my way back to the bus stop, and decided to catch a 40 bus instead – a bad mistake this turned out to be! Almost a tale in itself:
Three stops along and a woman with a chap in a wheelchair got on, and utilised all three side-saddle seats opposite me, to get her patient’s chair in.
Next stop, a lady with a pushchair and her baby got on. She had to cram herself next to me, but for the few stops they were on the bus, I enjoyed smiling and swapping pulled-faces with the youngster. Hehe!
As the young lady got up to move her pushchair, she gave my right toe a jolly-good stubbing with the wheel – Twice!
At my bus stop, a chap got up early, and as the bus braked, he fell forward onto me! Standing on my right foot and toe! I was getting irritated with things now!
As the bus stopped, I asked him if he was alright, and got no reply.
The man, rather dangerously I thought, walked down the hill and crossed the road on the bend. I had walked up the incline to where the centre-rest was, to cross over. A car swerved to avoid him, and came a bit to close to me for comfort!
The bloke moved swiftly out of view, so I was pleased he had not hurt himself on the bus as he trod on my foot and fell on me!
By the time I had reached the flats and got inside, seeing no one at all en route, I was not in good condition.
I got the nosh sorted out and ate it all without any effort.
I washed the pots, and settled down in the c1968 recliner, and started to watch a Rumpole of the Bailey episode.