Inchcock – Thurs 19 Nov 20: Soylent Green Memories Prompted!

TFZer discrete meeting? Hahaha! ♥

Thursday 19th November 2020

Danish: Torsdag den 19 November 2020

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00:40hrs: It all happened in a sort of slow-motion, to start with. I semi-woke up and lay there pondering the upcoming opportunities this dedicated ‘Toilet Day’, of 12th November, had to offer.

What Accifauxpas, Whoopsiedangleplops, Disasters, Failures, Stalemates, Mental-implosions, Frustrations, Defeats, Katzenjammers, Nonachievements, Babalaases, Pitfalls, Disappointments, Mysterious wonders of Woodthorpe Court: The Ghosts, Hobgoblins, Boll-Weevils, Aliens, Gremlins, Karakia-cursing entities, Hallucinations. Materialisations, Poltergeist, Lemures, Spectres, Spirits, Spooks, Eidolons, Wairuas, Kehuas, Manifestations that permeate, pass through the pores and interstices of space, through the time-continuum, to torment and frighten the bejesus out of me; that might present themselves this Thursday.

Oddly enough, as I was thinking of this ‘Dedicated Toilet Day’, as I was removing my potbellied, portly, wobbling, paunched-bellied body from the c1968 recliner, a borborygmic mini-explosion from the innards, signalled the expergefactorial need for the Porcelain Throne. I thought it would be a good idea, if I didn’t delay, and got to the Porcelain Throne with all haste! So, I did!

Not only did I get to the wet room without any bother, (Well, there was a short loss of balance, but that was my own fault for not catching it as I grabbed Metal Micky), and that only lasted a few seconds without any detrimental damage or injury.

What followed was most encouraging. This session was the even less painful, no enteralgia, no bleeding!

And comfortably evacuated; This is first-time that this has happened in many a month! Yee-Haa! But I knew this could not last for long. But I  enjoyed it while it lasted.

Mind you, the poo colour was a sort of green. Still, it made a change: super-easy passage, and a pretty new colour for me to photograph for the gastroenterologist’s Neurogenic bladder and bowel management record.

I was tickled-pink, started singing to myself! (The Young Ones – Cliff Richard) As I was getting up to sort the cleaning up, I spotted the gunk-cleaner on the shower floor, that I’d left to soak in last night – and had forgotten all about doing! Oh, dear!

I went out to the hallway and turned on the shower-power at the box. Back in and as carefully as I could, got the shower on and I sprayed the cleaner away…

But it looked far worse than it did before my orgulous bright-spark of an idea was used.

Humph and Knackwrangles!

And then, of course, to completely demolish the memory of the successful Throne session and semi-contentment of the marvellous evacuation; The moment I moved the showerhead into the right hand so I could turn off the water, and Nicodemus’s neurotransmitters failed, and the showerhead flailed all over the place. This resulted in my attempt to retrieve the moving water-jetting, hose-pipe like head, I had a tumble to the floor and got an early morning closed up shower, and soaked the jammy bottoms and me, and I got a few knocks new and bangs, in the process! Tsk!

The struggle to get back up, the cleaning and sorting out, were done in a silent, stewing mood, ruminating and chewing the cud; determined not to get in a sulky frame of mind at the return of my devil’s own luck, and eventually affirmed it as just a tribulation. I was pleased with myself then, at how I’d talked myself into just accepting things, knowing these incidents will only get worse as the neurotransmitters slowly die anyway. Confusingly, sometimes it’s like this, others, I get all het-up, cursing my fate, and start Duodenal Donald and Anne Gyna off, but not on this occasion? I sort of habituated, adapted to the situation. I’ve no idea why this is so, but I’m pretty content and stilled about things now.

I made a brew of Glengettie tea and realised than yet again, I’d not taken the evening medications! What an Ahntoisht, Shilmazel! So I took the evenings doses, and hope that I remember in size hours or so, to take the morning ones. Putz!

I carried out the Health Checks. The sphygmomanometerisationing first. But I didn’t fret over this reading, no doubt the falling over altercation had effected the reading, I’m sure.

The new thermometer did not work first try. Do I turned it off and back on again, and got this disappointingly low reading, again though, this is probably due to the fracas in the wet-room?

I got on the computer and started to update the Wednesday blog. Which was done in a reasonable time for once, the ailments seem to be feeling sorry for my tumble, and are being kind to me perhaps? (I might be losing it again here!)

I poddled to the wet-room, for another wee-wee, and when I got back, I noticed the veins in the left arm were almost luminescent? And, odd;y they looked a little greener than usual?  When I took this photo, I used the flash, and it came out looking more strange than it really looked, but I WordPressed it anyway, cause it looked so odd. A camera glitch? Anyway, it made me think of Soylent Green. Hahaha!

Of course, it might just be one of the resident Woodthorpe Court mysterious Eidolons, Goblins, or Aliens, that are checking out my innards. The Chilli-Meatballs last night might have confused them? Chortle! Cackle! Guffaw!

I got the updating finished and sent off. Then emailed the link.

Pinterested some snaps, the got the ablutions sorted out. Well, I started to anyway. But I remembered the morning dosages needed to be taken, so returned and tool them, then back to the wet-room.

I noticed as I stripped off (a horrible, harrowing thought for you, I’m sorry. Hehe!), that I must have picked up in the tumble. Pretty scratch, though! Hahaha!

The teeth cleaning went fine.

The shaving surprisingly, only brought about two tiny weeny nicks, not worthy of mention really, but it’s too late now, I have written it. Simper!

I found one of the miniature wounds from the Accifauxpas on the right-hand knuckle. I seem to have picked up some nicks and bruises, ain’t I? However, the showering, which was something I was a smidge concerned about with the balance not yet back to normal, went great! No Dizzy Dennis’s, there was not a single clout or banging into anything, I was well pleased again.

The medicating was as smooth as could be expected! No bleeding from Harold’s Haemorrhoids or Little Inchies fungal lesion! The dressing was only bothered temporarily by a dodgy-wobble getting the trousers on, but I remained on my feet, Oh. Yes! This is a better day, up to now! Perhaps, my prayer and a few words to Mr G the other day had got through? Or, not! Snortle!

I was in good form after the ablutions, and set about moving the hand-washed togs about, to nearer the heater, now they had stopped dripping.

That reminds me of when I was a whipper-snapper! Every Saturday morning, come rain or shine; after I’d set and laid the fire, and done my paper rounds, I had to go to Sanderson’s Tripe & Cow Heel shop, on Arkwright Street, and wait (sometimes for hours), to claim the ham bone, once enough had been sliced and sold, 3d (Threepence it was)  And heaven help me if I couldn’t get it! Dad would not be happy with me at all!

This look like the original shop, I could find a photo of when they were open. Gawd the place smelt gorgeous! Once a fortnight I had to some tripe as well. Every week, the jellied pork dripping they sold, 9p a pound (weight) was bought as well. Oh, the memories are flooding back now! Of course, when Dad was working on a Saturday, meant I had a few hours of waiting for him to arrive home. Which, in the rare event that one of the three items was unavailable; meant I had to wait for the clips around the earhole longer.

Happy days, rough, hard work. Mater kept disappearing to avoid the police, so muggins had set the fire every morning! Do the paper rounds so kindly got for me by Dad, the cooking and cleaning too. But I did feel needed, wanted, and the odd belting!

But I was content, I knew no other life! There were plenty of lads worse off than I was… I’m waffling again, Sorry about that. It’s a bad habit of mine, wandering off, on some unrelated topic. Still, I do enjoy getting these memory-prompting meanderings.

I got the black bags gathered and onto the three-wheeler-guide trolley, and had a job to do it, but got it out of the door, along,  the lift lobby, and into the waste room, and deposited all the small bags down the chute.

It was deathly quiet, and no signs of any tellurians. Even the ‘Hum’ was quieter today.

Even Herbert has only been heard on two occasions up until now. I’m beginning to worry about this. He’s not one for persiflage, more your sort of taciturn, reserved, reticent, antisocial type.

The walk back to the flat along the newly, highly-attractive, ornamentally decorated and floored lift lobby.

It felt so. Haha! 

Getting into the three flat’s lobby was easy enough this time, and at that moment, I was feeling better than I have for a few days, getting tired, but that’s to be expected.

But, when it came to getting into the front door, that’s the maroon one, that the workers laying the floor for us all, decorated with some gunk for me, and left it there, and I have no intention of cleaning up – Swine!, I felt the weariness take a strong grip on me, and the missing so far today, Dizzy Dennis kicked into gear.

But I was not mentally tired, only bodily. Does that make sense? I went out on the balcony to take a couple of photos of the busy scene down below on Chestnut Walk.

Blimey, we had a traffic jam! Hahaha!

I spotted some crows in the distance and snapped them, but it was not a good shot. Shame. I wanted to post them to the TFZ site, Lona might have appreciated them.

Doing some updating on this blog, and I thought I heard a clunk, it may be the belated INR WArfarin results and new dosages. It was, and the dosages had changed. Meaning, because no one from the Clinic, Anticoagulation or Deep Vein Thrombosis had informed me from the Monday test, I have been taking too few Warfarins tablets since then. This Coronvirus is most likely killing a few people without the virus!

The landline chirped and flashed. It was some woman on a recorded message again, telling e they had taken £75 something from my account for ‘Prime’, if I want to cancel this press One, so I did. Waffling on a woman with either a Chinese or Indian/Pakistani accent – I couldn’t tell if it was recorded or real voice, she was going that fat, and without a cat in ells chance of understanding anything she was saying. I rang off.

Dizzy was joined by Anne Gyna, and I gave up on the computer and got the nosh prepped.

I had a good sniff at the out of date potato cakes, and luckily, they passed the sniffing nasal-assessment, so went in the oven, and were added to the tray.

The Chilli-Con-Carne, with the added tomatoes, mild chilli seasoning, Squid vinegar, garden peas and gravy, tasted jolly good!

There was so much of it though, you can see here that I couldn’t eat it all.  Titter! Seriously, it was a worthy 9.3/10 for a Flavour rating!

I was doing the washing up when Dizzy Dennis and BLB (Balance-Loss-Brian) allied to attack me. From here onwards, memory, of the night was enveloped it a vague mistiness.

When I woke up later – there was no scribbling on the notepad. I had a criminally, painful backache, and the shoulder was so painful. Signs of an Accifauxpa? But no memory. I’d not taken the evening medications, and was wearing the reading glasses?

Another mystery of life in Woodthorpe Court. Hey-Ho! 

Gawd the lower back hurts?

It’s Been a Funny Old Life Part 3 – Prosed ponderously by Inchcock

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As an ankle-snapper I had a skinny physique,

In fact they knicknamed me ‘The Pipsqeak’,

When Mam was at home, times were bleak,

She and Dad shouted and fought, they didn’t speak,

She rarley stayed home for more than a week,

To the outside loo, if one wanted a leak,

Getting the tin bath off the yard wall every week,

Demanded a certain safety-first technique.

Drag it into the front room in front of the fire,

Clean it up with bleach and a pad of wire,

Heating up water in kettles & pans was dire,

The use of the fire and stove I’d aquire,

To keep the bath topped up as Dad did require.

After several top-ups Dad would retire,

Then t’was my turn in the cold water in front of the fire!

Dry missen off with the wet towel Dad had used,

Bath back on’t wall ready fer it to be reused,

Out to the coal-house while Dad snoozed,

Chopped wood brought in coal, getting bruised,

Laid the fire for the morning – felt abused!

Life was how it was, so why feel sad or blue?

No hot running water, fridge or TV it’s true,

Tableclothes? The Evening newspaper would do,

Lighting the gas-lamps was risky too,

When Pennies in the meters were due…

Mam had some arcade coins, one or two!

No toilet paper for our out-side loo,

Cut-up newspaper for wiping: the memories ooh!…

Nottingham Then and Now Part 3: How some buildings have changed over the Years

Areas of Nottingham City Centre – and how they have changed!

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Long Row – shoppers passing what was Griffin & Spalding, then Debenhams department store.

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A flight of steps leading up from Weekday Cross. Under these steps, or their predecessors, was at one time kept a stock of whale-oil, which was used for the illumination of the town, which must have rendered the neighbourhood somewhat unsavoury. It is recorded that upon one occasion a frost occurred of such intensity as to freeze this stock of whale-oil.

Weekday Cross itself stood in the north-west corner of the area, in front of the more modern entrance to the hall. The first actual mention of it occurs in 1549, but a cross probably existed there much earlier. It was pulled down in 1804, and pictures which remain of it show it to have been an ordinary pillar cross upon steps. The arms had disappeared, and it was crowned by a great stone globe. From the steps surrounding it Royal and municipal proclamations were made, and it was really just an ordinary normal market cross.

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People wept openly in Long Row when the wrecking ball started smashing away one of Nottingham’s favourite old buildings.

These were the final, desperate moments for the Black Boy Hotel, the eccentric Watson Fothergill-designed Victorian edifice which, over the years, had welcomed stars of show business and sport through its doors.

It was the end of the Sixties, a time when functionalism was the trend, when an act of municipal vandalism swept away the splendid old hotel to replace it with a bland and ugly concrete monolith.

But more than 40 years later, people refuse to let the Black Boy’s glory fade. The name crops up whenever the subject of Nottingham’s lost architectural history is aired.

And tomorrow it will be given a permanent memorial when a plaque commissioned by Nottingham Civic Society is officially unveiled on the site – now occupied by Primark – by the Lord Mayor Coun Brian Grocock.

Hilary Silvester, chairman of the Nottingham Civic Society, said: “The plaque will be a tribute to Mr Fothergill’s work.

“Fothergill went in for fantastic designs with timbering and gabling and turrets. The Black Boy Hotel was his masterpiece where he incorporated all of these bits of different design.”

The Black Boy Hotel began life in the 17th century on land owned by the Brunts family of East Bridgford, and by 1700 the inn was an established staging post with coaches departing to all parts of the country.

In 1711 Samuel Brunts founded the charity which still bears his name. Among the foundations he created were almshouses and schools in Mansfield, funded by income from various properties, including the Black Boy.

The Turner family became tenants of the Black Boy in the mid-19th century – a connection which was to last for more than 100 years.

In 1878 architect Fothergill Watson, as he was then known, extended the hotel and thereby began his involvement in the redesign of the building.

Nine years later he completely rebuilt the Long Row frontage, retaining its fashionable colonnade.

The Bavarian design had all Fothergill’s characteristic ornamentation.

In 1897 – by which time the architect had switched his name to the grander Watson Fothergill – a central tower was created with stone lions at its base, and a statue of Samuel Brunts was mounted over the front entrance of the hotel.

During renovations of the Black Boy in 1928, the well-known local artist Denholm Davis was commissioned to paint two murals in the Haddon Room, depicting views of Haddon Hall.

Sadly, the effect of tobacco smoke was such that the murals were eventually covered by oak panelling.

During the years immediately before and after the Second World War, when the Black Boy Hotel was at the height of its fame, many well-known celebrities stayed there including Gracie Fields, George Formby, Gregory Peck and Laurence Olivier.

The Australian cricketers were regular visitors and a story is told of their efforts to have Little John – the bell of the Council House clock – silenced at night. The English team were a safe distance away in the Victoria Station Hotel!

The reception rooms of the Black Boy were impressive with four of the main rooms named after local country houses… Thoresby, Rufford, Haddon and Chatsworth.

The hotel also boasted an American bar, a gentlemen’s-only bar, a writing room and a hairdressing salon.

The remainder of the hotel was, however, short of modern facilities, with bathrooms at a premium, and the upper floors resembling a warren. Perhaps the need for modernisation was the reason the lease was offered for sale by the trustees of the Brunts Charity in 1960.

The following year, Littlewoods acquired the site for the next 99 years at a starting price of £46,000 a year.

The opinion was expressed by the auctioneer, W R Brackett, that the site offered an opportunity for a large and imaginative development. Although protests were voiced at the prospect of the Black Boy closing, the hotel finally shut its doors on March 8, 1969.

Everything was sold at the auction which followed the closure of the hotel. A set of George III dining chairs went for £750 and an oil painting of Watson Fothergill and his family fetched £575.

Forty waste paper baskets and four fire buckets also went under the hammer.

The four stone lions which guarded the central tower were bought by the corporation and can now be found in the grounds of Nottingham Castle.

The statue of Samuel Brunts, which graced the façade of the hotel, was given to the Brunts School, Mansfield, where it remains – although with its left hand missing.

The small statue of a black boy, which was in the foyer of the hotel, was also saved, but a similar statue of a black girl appears to have been lost, along with the Davis mural.

In the early 1970s the utilitarian Littlewood store was built on the site, opposite the windows of the Council House, providing a permanent reminder of the city planners’ short-sighted, criminal folly..

Ken Brand, a Watson Fothergill expert, said it was a travesty the Black Boy was no longer standing.

“Its demolition was considered by most to be the worst example of architectural vandalism of that era in Nottingham… or anywhere” he said.

Well Inchcock agrees with him 100%!

Nottingham Then and Now: Part 2: The Elite Cinema, Upper Pariament Street

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Memories of The Elite Cinema, Upper Pariament Street, Nottingham

The Elite was one of the first in a new breed of ‘super-cinema’ to be built in Nottingham. Designed by the London architectural firm of Adamson & Kinns, the facade and exterior side walls were treated in an expensive white glazed tiling and contained statues along the upper portion of the building. Internally the decoration was carried out by interior designer Fred A. Foster who created a stunning interior with the auditorium walls lined with wood panels and a great deal of decorative plaster. Seating was provided in stalls and circle levels.

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It opened on 22nd August 1921 with Mary Pickford in “Pollyanna”. There was a grand concert organ by the firm of Willis-Lewis which had 78 stops, plus a full orchestra. The facilities within the building also included a a restaurant, a Georgian Tea Room, a French Cafe in Louis XVI style and a large ballroom located on the top floor.

In the reception was a gigantic ornate open coal-fired fire-place.

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The first ‘talkie’ in Nottingham was shown at the Elite Picture Theatre, George Jessel in “Lucky Boy” and after its screening, the cinema was closed for several weeks in July 1929 for a refurbishment.

A new Compton 2Manual/6Ranks organ was installed which was opened by Cyril Birmingham.

24 June 1929: The talking picture show had been introduced two years earlier in America with Al Jolson’s The Jazz Singer.

002Elite6The first full-length ‘talkie’ film in Nottingham were shown at the Elite Cinema.

Organist Jack Helyer, in his white coat and tails, entertained audiences with their favourite tunes.

Peoples best memories was of the open fire in the foyer, especially when they arrived at he cinema and it was cold and icy outside!

Next in the Nottingham Then and Now Series:

A selction of Nottingham area photographs of specific Buildings

Then and Now – See the changes that has taken place.

Nottingham Then and Now – Part One: Sheep Lane – Market Street

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Market Street (Above colour photograph) started out as a narrow alley called Sheep Lane but due to its limited width quite a few accidents happened, pedestrians going up meeting carts coming down caused people to be squashed against the sides – usually resulting in blood stains on the floor and wall.

This led to the locals referring to it as Blood Lane.

When it was widened (civic improvements in 1866) the aim of the Gentry was to name it Theatre Street, because it led from the Market Square to the Theatre Royal.

The market people had other ideas and the night before the official unveiling some of them unscrewed the sign and replaced it with one stating Market Street.

The following day was market day and everyone, the Gentry and the market people, congregated at the bottom of the widened Sheep Lane for the opening ceremony.

The Mayor pulled on the cord to revel the new sign and proclaimed the new roadway to be “Market Street”, even though a portion of the assembled crowd – mostly Gentry – complained; but they were heavily outnumbered, and tried to point out the Mayor’s error when it was already too late.

There has been 128 murders recorded on Sheep Lane/Market Street.

Next in this series: The Elite Cinema – Upper Parliament Street.

Inchcocks Memories Invoked by One old Photograph

Baroness-Ruth-Henig-CBE

Down the alleyway between the cafe and the Naval Club was where my doctors was situated: Dr Foley. An elderly woman with a no fuss attitude, I liked her – I can picture her now – with her fussing and stern assistant/pharmacist/nurse who would light the gas-fire in the waiting room with a loud bang and flash of flame. I was on her books from 1949 to 1969.

The cafe (Can’t remember the name, something Latin I think? No doubt someone will be able to inform me I hope) The owner hired young near-do-wells like myself to sell hot dogs at the weekends in the city centre. I think they sold for 9p beefburgers 1/-. They were stored in hot water in compartments in the heavy and hard to push trolley base. The onions were horrible. Keeping folk from nicking the watered down ketchup and Daddies sauce was a problem.

To the right was the Hong Kong Restaurant. On more than one occasion they were prosecuted for some hygiene irregularity but there were so many brothers and sisters in the family, that when they were barred from running food premises, they just sold it to another family member. Mother worked there for a while – and often she was given tins with no labels on them to open and mix ready for the cook to prepare in dishes. One day she told Dad that one of these tins had a bit of label left on it – it was Top Cat cat food! Later they were done yet again, but I never heard any of the locals complain and it was always busy?

The Italian restaurant I cannot remember ever seeing anyone ever eat there. We used to joke that it must be a cover-base for the Mafia.

In later year I’d frequent the Naval Club, where the beer was only so-so but the  company was great – I loved listening to the members stories of their war exploits.

In one of the  flats above the Hong Kong restaurant lived a lass by the name of Maureen Hutterswaithe – a bonny lass generous with her foibles as I remember… but that might not be a suitable story for  here. But it were grand!

Austin A40Arkwright Street, my stomping ground as an underfed impecunious little ragamuffin.

Not all good memories but much missed nowadays in this greedy uncaring atmosphere I laughingly call life.

Hey-ho – so now I’m feeling a bit low…

Inchy’s Historical Walks of Ye Olde Nottingham: City to the Castle

From the City Centre – to Nottingham Castle

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Inchy, on one of his better days

Our local historian, guide, agniologist and doddery pensioner Juan Inchcock takes you along the route, describing what we sees now, and what was there in his youth and before. A Nottingham born Lad of a gentle nature, uneducated, insanitary, and in ill health, he’s been reporting on Nottingham for many years. He’s currently the top unpaid journalist for WordPress.com. and a founder member of the ‘Outer Peruvian Pregnant Kangaroo Appreciation Society, and offers half of all the money that he doesn’t earn to support to the ‘Bring Back the Death Penalty for Politician’s – Senile Diplegic Supporters Division, Nottingham Branch’, as Secretary to the branches cleaning operatives third cousin.

The comparisons depict the changing face of life for Nottinghamians’.

Nottingham City Centre

1863:

We stand in the market-place amidst the horse and carts of the traders, opposite the Soup kitchens.

1963:

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Bill Fury, one of my all time favourites, along with Nat King Cole, Dean Martin, Adam Faith, The Shadows, Acker Bilk… I’d better stop or I’ll not have any room left!

We stand at the taxi rank, opposite the McFisheries supermarket. Billy Fury, Elvis, Adam Faith and the new group theBeatles records on sale at Griffin and Spalding store.

2014:

We stand on the new tram lines on South Parade, opposite the bank raided by armed robbers last July, the Pay-Day loan shop, and the Fountains provided for our children to play and urinate in, and the three Coffee Houses.

 

Friar Lane (bottom)

1863:

On the corner on our left, is the Mikado Cafe, tea or coffee costing 1/8th of a penny. (Farthing) 0.005p)

1963:

On the corner on our left, is The Friary Cafe, tea or coffee 3d (1¼p) Toby’s department store, and Burton’s Tailors next to Wimpey Cafe/Bar.

2014:

On the corner on our left, is Starbucks cafe, (looted in the 2010 Nottingham riots), tea £1.20 coffee up to £3.39. Where a few years ago I was responding to an alarm call, and got booked my a traffic warden.

Friar Lane (Way up on the left)

1863:

No buildings at all by the lane, which was almost a very wide pathway then.

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She earned more in a month as a part-time Barclay’s ‘Advisor’, than I did in a year! Didn’t bother me though… oh no!

1963:

A sweetshop, Hambro’s Bank (went defunct in 1988), no Conservative minister investors to save them then, like William Hague to ensure his wife’s income from her part-time job as a Barclay’s bank advisor remained profitable, like in 2010, an old peoples help centre (conveniently positions at the top of the hill).. oh dear, now closed down, and an Indian restaurant.

2014:

A cobblers, hairdressers, empty Co-op bank building, and a Charity Shop, Chinese Food shop, and Pay-Day Loan crooks shop.

Friar Lane (Way up on the right)

 

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Many beautiful designs of Fothergill’s in Nottingham have destroyed by our wonderful Nottingham City Council. This one survived, but is unoccupied.

1863:

Some magnificent houses of the rich, designed by William Fothergill, gargoyles included.

1963:

The grand Toby’s Department Store (Vernon House). Went Bankrupt a few years later.

2014:

A Charity shop, the Citi Restaurant (Beer from £2.99 per bottle), and a newsagents.

Friar Lane (Junction of Derby Road) Corner one on the left:

1863:

This area was (apart from a footpath forged through it) all wasteland, with lookout posts from the military based at the Castle.

1963:

A cafe (cannot remember the name, possibly Maid Marion Cafe. Fish & Chips 1/10d (9p)

2014:

Indian Resturant Fish and Chips £7.99.

Corner One on the right:

1863:

Wasteland

1963:

Newspaper shop – Evening Post 1d (¼p)

2014:

Newspaper shop – Evening Post 50p weekdays, 60p Saturdays.

Corner Three on the left:

1863:

Lookout post for Nottingham Castle troops.

1963:

Derelict lookout post for Nottingham Castle troops.

2014:

Abandoned office block.

Corner four on the right

1863:

Wasteland

1963:

Tesco supermarket (purchased from Elmo supermarkets)

2014:

Abandoned Robin Hood Centre (torched in the Nottingham Riots 2010).

Friar Lane (Top end right)

1863:

Stables for the cavalry based at Nottingham Castle.

1963:

Travel Agents, Wimpey’s snack bar, and ice cream shop.

2014:

Row of abandoned businesses, charity shop, and a night shelter for street dwellers.

Friar Lane (Top end left)

1863:

Residential premises.

1963:

Residential and now offices built.

2014:

Abandoned offices.

Nottingham Castle Entrance

1863:

Near main gates: Horse-guard’s Cavalry Stables and arsenal. No admittance to the citizenry.

1963:

WalksFriar004Near main gates: Ice-cream vendor, flower seller, and Boy Scout hut. Robin Hood statue and car park. Admission free.

2014:

Near main gates: Graffiti ridden Robin Hood statue cleaned up, CCTV cameras, No parking sign, Admission fee £6.50.

More Historical Walks of Ye Olde Nottingham to follow