Wednesday, 9 December 2015

The Crystal Palace

No - not that Crystal Palace, the one in Bath.  You know, in Abbey Green.  This one:


Apparently, yon big tree thing was known as The Hanging Tree, due to the executions that were rumoured to take place there.  It's an impressive tree all the same, as you can see.

The Crystal Palace is right smack in the centre of the city and used to be a good student pub, back in the days.  Nowadays it's a good tourist pub.  I ventured in for old times' sake and exchanged almost 5 English Pounds for a pint of fine ale.  Impressive prices - I bet not too many students frequent nowadays, which would be a damn shame.  Friday nights I recall were always good nights out, but no matter how crowded the bar in the CP would get (and it would get busy - back in those days we got grants to go to Uni, for goodness' sake) there was always one table kept reverently free.  About 9 o'clock the student body would part to let a little white-haired elderly lady through to her seat.  The bar staff would fetch her a glass of sweet sherry and she would quietly sup while us Bright Young Things enjoyed ourselves.  Good times.

Still, on the particular night I wandered in a couple of weeks ago, the bar area was quiet and since I was in a good mood I thought I would engage the young lady (of student age) on the other side of the jump in some conversation.  I remarked how the place had changed since my last visit.  She replied cheerily enough, asking if I had been in a couple of years ago and saying that the place had had a re-fit since then.  I smiled and said, well, I was actually comparing it to when I came in here as a student, back in the early 80s.  And that, dear friends, was the end of that conversation.

This was it at night:


Tuesday, 8 December 2015

Bath's Bikes

I noticed a lot of bicycles as I wandered about Bath - understandable since the roads seem very congested...I guess those Georgians didn't plan for 21st Century traffic levels.

These ones seemed to be quite sociable:


This next one was down by the Theatre.  Did I tell you I got to see 'An Inspector Calls'?  Well I did and very good it was too - as you would expect from a National Theatre production fresh from the West End and Broadway.  You have to avail of a bit of culture when you can, don't you.  One of the downsides of living in The Liberties is that you get a limited choice in that department.  I mean, there are lots of cultural things here, but sometimes it's nice to see a Big Production, if you see what I mean.  Anyway, I enjoyed it.  First time I've ever seen rain in a play - proper rain it was too, wet and everything.  Reminded me of home, it did.


It wasn't the bicycle that attracted my attention in this next shot, it was the bricked up doorway:


Bricked up windows are very common in Bath, due to the famous 'window tax' in the 17th and 18th Centuries.  But I've never seen a bricked up doorway before.  Was there ever a 'doorway tax' I wonder?  I like the fact that the step up from the pavement is still there...

The plaque on the wall names John Palmer as resident - he was Bath Architect sometime in the 18th Century, apparently.  The bike I know nothing about, other than it was chained to the railings.

Which leads nicely on to:


I don't know how this was done, but someone has clearly taken on board the notice and somehow lifted his bicycle-contraption over the railings.  There was no gate, that I could see anyhow.  Very strange...

Monday, 7 December 2015

View from the top

I was up high while in Bath.   Clive and Charles were there too.  One a retired London barrister and one a bloke from The Midlands who cycles 7 miles to work every morning, does a 12 hour shift and cycles home.  Oh, and he walks the dog before going to work and when he gets home.  And he skis.  Clive had, it needs to be said, good legs.  And stamina...by the bucket-load.  You see, ankylosing spondylitis not only gets to work it's little magic on people from all walks of life but it takes a different path with every one of us lucky people.

I know you are hearing a lot about AS these days...but I've been living it, breathing it and sleeping it for 12 days whilst at The Min, so forgive me.  It's cathartic.  I need to get this out.  Stay with me.

Bath Abbey.  At night.
Our accommodation was up above the melee.  You get a different perspective on things.


I don't think the sky was as dark as it appears above.  Blame the Nikon, HP5+ or ID-11.  Or all three.

Bath is lovely.  All sandstone buildings and everything.  Crescents and things like that wot you can see in these here snaps.  John Wood the Elder did a lot of it...including The Circus and, ladies and gentlemen, The Min.



Bath is in a hollow...built, so the legend goes, like Rome, surrounded by 7 hills.  The downside is that nowadays, I'm reliably informed, that means as you are driving into the city on a lovely summer morning the first thing you notice is the pall of fumes hanging over the city.  So the sandstone buildings get black very quickly.  As, presumably, do your lungs.  That, dear readers, is the price you pay for being in the centre of All Things Beautiful, along with über-inflated property prices and a plethora of boutique shops selling pretty but useless things at über-inflated prices.



A good friend once said Bath is the graveyard of dreams...young people happen by here in their 20s, their heads full of ambition, careers, travel and stuff, fall in love with the place, can't bear to leave, end up working in the Theatre Royal as ushers for minimum wage.  Or Wetherspoons. Or Poundland.  Yes, they do exist in Bath, alongside shops like Gieves&Hawkes and Christopher Barry - the sort of shops wot don't put prices in the windows.   And you know what that means, of course - without having to ask.

Friday, 4 December 2015

An Epic Tale

Friday is Archive Day and today we embark on the first part of a truly epic tale, by way of The Uncle (who you met in Toledo last week).  The Uncle, it should be said, is no longer with us, having hung up his boots (and cameras) for the last time some years ago at the ripe old age of 88.

Exactas, he liked Exacta cameras.  Funny thing is, I don't know what became of them.  Although near the end a kindly neighbour took it upon himself to flog off a lot of The Uncle's possessions, so perhaps that what happened to them.  Some people, eh?

As we know, The Uncle liked to travel and sometime in the 1930s he met a Hungarian academic who became a life-long friend.  Balazs was, I believe, a professor in the University of Budapest.  He was also Jewish.

Balazs, 1938
(My knowledge of the Hungarian language is nil, but if memory serves me correctly his name is pronounced Ball-ashe).

Fortunately, The Uncle carried a camera on his travels and he recorded the details of one particular trip in some detail.  In the summer of 1938 he and a few colleagues set sail from Galway, Ireland, destination Budapest.  Their ship docked at Hamburg, Germany.  Not just any ship, mind - a ship that was about to become very famous, for all the wrong reasons.  The SS St Louis.


Less than a year after The Uncle's trip, the SS St Louis set sail from Hamburg to Cuba with over 900 passengers, mostly Jewish, seeking asylum from Nazi persecution.   Unfortunately only a handful of passengers with official Cuban visas were allowed to disembark at Havana.   The German captain, Gustav Schröder, was forced to try another country and headed for Florida.  No luck there - America was having none of it, preventing them from landing and even preventing Schröder from beaching the ship in order for the refugees to escape.  Canada proved no better.  Forced to return to Europe, Schröder, a non-Jewish German, refused to return to Hamburg until all the passengers had been given entry to some other country.  Eventually the ship docked at Antwerp, Belgium and passengers were eventually distributed between the UK, France, Belgium and The Netherlands.  It has been estimated that a quarter of those who disembarked on continental Europe died in death camps.

For his actions, Captain Schröder was awarded the Order of Merit by the Federal Republic of Germany and posthumously named as one of the Righteous among the Nations in the Holocaust Memorial in Israel.

OK let's get all the bad stuff over in one post...

As an intellectual Jew, Balazs was right in the sweet spot for the attention of Mr Hitler et al and so both him and his wife found themselves in one of the death camps during the war.  His wife, separated from him in the camp, didn't survive.  He did.  I can recall The Uncle relating how his friend realised very quickly that you had to be selfish to survive.  They were sent to work during the day - anyone too ill or exhausted to work was dealt with in the usual fashion.  Conditions were cramped to say the least and in order to get some sleep at night Balazs hauled himself up to a beam supporting the roof of the cabin in which they were housed.  He would strap himself to the beam with his belt so as not to fall off and get what sleep he could in order to be ready for work the next day.  Food was scarce and he took to chewing pieces of his belt in order to keep his gastric system working.  But he survived.

Of course after the war, Hungary was under Communist control and behind the 'Iron Curtain'.  The 1956 revolution did improve things but travel, for example, was still severely restricted until the late 1980s and I don't think Balazs was able to go outside his country more than a couple of times.  He did come to The Liberties once, sometime in the late 1970s.  Here he is, along with his second wife.  My father is on the right.


Balazs's second wife is another interesting story, since his first wife died in the camps.  In those days, in Hungary, it was the custom to take a sister as your wife if your first wife died.  My understanding is that that is indeed what happened.

Back to the SS St Louis, of course The Uncle and his friends had no idea of the important place in history that their ship would have - they were, no doubt, excited about the forthcoming journey through Germany and Czechoslovakia en route to Hungary.  Unfortunately no-one had remembered to pack an iPad, so they had to amuse themselves with some exciting board games:


Conditions in Steerage Class were perhaps less than opulent:


They might have had two washbasins, but clearly no beds.  Perhaps they took it in turns to sit on the toilet for a nap - and if so, by the look of things some-one had overstayed their allocated time.

A nice thing is that not only do we have an annotated photo album of this trip - we also have more than a few negatives, some of which I am printing, some 77 years later.   And while I can't promise you amazing shots of political rallies as they passed through Berlin in the summer of 1938 what I can do is show something of their trip on the Friday slot over the next few weeks.

Thursday, 3 December 2015

Bath Abbey, take 2

OK, so I nearly got a photograph of The Abbey itself...


Well you can see a bit of it there, on the left, just after the entrance to the Roman Baths.  I bet she got a good photograph, though.

Sometimes I actually post a photograph I like.  Not often, it has be said.  I know, I have low standards.  This one I quite like.

Wednesday, 2 December 2015

Bath Abbey

Yes, that's what they were all doing.  Taking snaps of Bath Abbey.

I wasn't.  I was taking snaps of them.


I know, pity I cut his foot off.  No-one's perfect.



Funny place Bath - all that Georgian architecture and what have you.  Tinsel-town I call it...it's not real, you see.  It's full of tourists (and a few people with ankylosing spondylitis visiting The Min).

I don't know what happened to the lady's leg on the right in this next one - I think it was something to do with the fading light...


It's good watching people.  And even better taking their photograph.  I never thought this sort of thing was 'my bag', but I must admit I did enjoy it.  It must be a Bath thing.  I wonder how it will translate now I'm back in The Liberties.  Time will tell, I suppose.

All taken with the Nikon, a bog standard 50mm f1.8 and good old HP5+.

Tuesday, 1 December 2015

Strange goings-on

There wasn't much light around Bath by the time I was able to get out and about.  The Nikon found it easy enough to deal with...but I'm not so sure I did.  Anyway, this sort of thing happened...


Still, it's a change from the usual sort of stuff you get on here.