Category Archives: montpelier

snow!

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P1200003 Life has been very busy lately, which is why it’s been rather quiet here on the blog. But the thick blanket of snow which arrived on Friday morning has changed all that.

P1200018In a matter of hours our neighbourhood was transformed. Most of Bristol’s schools were closed and the atmosphere in our street, and in the park, was a bit like having a second run at Christmas but without any of the Bah! Humbug! and stress.

P1200021 P1200022 P1200092 P1200091 P1200093Life has slowed to an unsteady dawdle (though now that I’ve located my Yaktrax, I’ve been able to speed up a bit) and the last two days have been a lovely mixture of tobogganing in the park and walking the dog – usually the last thing the girls want to do is walk the dog, but it’s suddenly right up there at the top of the what-I-want-to-do-today list.

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The dog adores the snow, and races around the park and the garden in a state of demented joy and then passes out by the fire when we get home. The poor cat is in a deep sulk – she hates the snow and is wearing an expression of pained resignation.

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creepy

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The rain came down but that didn’t put anyone off. Although only nine houses hosted happenings, the street was so full of children in fancy dress it looked like the set of ET.

As you can see, I managed to make Martha’s cape. I kept putting it off, the material felt so slippery and horrible I didn’t want to touch it, and beyond Martha’s drawing, I didn’t have a pattern to work from – cape construction is not really my thing. But at 5 o’clock this evening I had to face my demons and get on with it. Amazingly it took about five minutes – incredible what you can do when you are against the clock and beyond caring. The drape of the fabric is very forgiving, completely concealing my shoddy pleating. Martha, who had given up all hope of wearing a cape, was suitably impressed.

We are all off to Dorset tomorrow to recover.

planning

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I know that Halloween is not to everyone’s taste, but in Montpelier it is celebrated with great enthusiasm (previous years’ fun here and here), though this year’s bash may be a rather low-key affair as it falls in the middle of half term and lots of families are away.

But of course none of this has dampened the girls’ excitement. In fact discussions have been underway for some time now: the picture above, which I thought was just another one of Martha’s endless drawings – she produces a lot – is actually a costume design. A design she is expecting me to follow when I make her costume. From scratch. Today. Eh?

When I complained that I’d had no warning, there was a loud chorus of “but mum you said you’d make me a dead bride/zombie red riding hood/creey doll costume” which, when I glowered at them across the breakfast table, quickly became a slightly sheepish, “well you didn’t say you wouldn’t!” So we are all off to Fabric Land in an hour or so, in search of red fleece, white netting, and whatever else I think I might be able to magic into something spooky with my limited sewing skills. We’ll tackle the pumpkin tonight.

going solo

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The girls returned to school yesterday and I found myself alone for the first time in six weeks. I wandered down the road to buy a newspaper, delighting in the fact that there was no one at my elbow begging for sweets.

Elbow room and head space – that’s what I’ve missed. It’s been a lovely summer break, but it’s nice to be alone again for part of the day. A treat to walk around the neighbourhood and take in the changes that have occurred over the summer, such as these houses on Picton Street, which were spruced up in August.

Yesterday, I was struck by the lovely graffiti-like play of sunlight on the walls. In fact at first I really thought it was graffiti, a sort of weird washed out version of the Olympics logo!

Although Montpelier is fairly scuzzy in places – mindless tags adorn walls and bins, and we seem to have far more than our fair share or dog shit – the neighbourhood is also full of real beauty. In particular its wonderful mix of architecture: Georgian townhouses and cottages, Victorian villas and terraces, and even one or two interesting 20th and 21st-century additions. Of course there are plenty of duds in the mix as well, whole rows of dull, mean-looking 80s Toy Town nothingness. But the mix is the thing. For me the scuzz points up the beauty so, dog shit aside, I’m happy to put up with all the tagging, and even a bit of litter, because, when taken as a whole, Montpelier has immense charm and character.

And it’s lovely to resume my term time routine – a daily (nosy) stroll around the streets, admiring other people’s window boxes and gardens, their front doors and curtains.

grey sky graffiti

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I’ve been rather housebound recently. Lots of work, which is nice, and lots of random projects, also nice, and lots of domestic drudge, not nice. The dreadful weather has also played its part. And so apart from the obligatory dog walk I haven’t really been out and about in the neighbourhood that much. In fact, when I come to think about it, my walks with Sybil have changed recently and taken me further afield than usual – out into the woods or up to Ashton Court rather than the local park. Somehow wet weather is more bearable in the countryside.

All of which is a long-winded way of saying that a) I haven’t posted much about my favourite piece of local graffiti, the squiggle man, and b) the fact that I hadn’t spotted this new version of him until this morning, when I did venture back to the local park.

It seems that he’s having a bit of a yellow and grey moment too. That’s when he’s not feeling green …

Or off on a skiing trip ..

This last photo was taken by my neighbour, Sarah, who knows about my obsession with Mr Squiggle, and couldn’t quite believe her eyes when she spotted him lurking near their hotel in Chamonix when they were skiing earlier in the year.

park life

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The first time I visited St Andrew’s Park, five years ago, it was as a parent rather than a dog walker. I thought it was rather gloomy despite the well-equipped playground and charming cafe (run from a van around which tables covered with polka dot oil cloths are set up), and vowed to visit only if I really, really had to. How things change.

Several years on, and now a dog owner, I find that I am in the same slightly gloomy park on an almost daily basis (I must add here that Sybil does get walked elsewhere, but time is limited at the moment, and a local walk is all we can manage). Given my initial feelings about the park, you’d think this would be a recipe for utter misery and boredom on my part, but curiously, for such a small place, there is always something new to see.

Over the last two weeks snowdrops have been emerging, first one small cluster and now great clumps light up an otherwise dull corner. The crocuses have also started popping up: brilliant flashes of electric yellow and purple along the muddy banks. And although the trees are still leafless and skeletal, there have been some interesting additions: this kite, lit up by the sun, caught my eye the other day.

And at the weekend I could hardly fail to spot this spectacular bit of yarn-bombing.

Recently, I came across a whole group of photos that I took last July when the trees were covered with ribbons in advance of an annual arts festival. Sadly, we weren’t around for the actual festival and I guess that’s why I never got round to posting these photos.

 As I’ve said, St Andrew’s park is not particularly large, or even especially pretty, but I love it more and more, and clearly I am not alone.

resolutions

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Every neighbourhood needs one of these, I think. It says it’s a Resolution Tree. I have no idea when it sprang up, but I do know that it wasn’t like this in the early hours of 2012 when we tottered past on our way home from a fabulous fancy dress party organised by my brilliantly inventive friend, Penny.

But there it was this morning, luggage labels flapping in the breeze like the flags on the SS Great Britain (which is no so very far away). I stopped to read one or two of the resolutions, some of which were surprisingly graphic descriptions of things the authors wished to take up, others, like these two, were rather sweet and endearing.

Some seemed predictable enough, until I took a closer look …

I thought the last bit read “work less”, but it doesn’t does it? Anyway, it left me wondering what my resolutions should be. I didn’t make any last year, just a long To Do list.

NB: Any local readers who want to fill in a resolution tag will find the tree at the bottom of Nine Tree Hill, next to Sofa Riot (now closed) and opposite Cafe Kino. 

true grit

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The recent appearance of a rather alarmed face on this grit box, above, which I pass most mornings on my way either to or from the park, reminded me that although I have quite a collection of grit box ‘portraits’, I haven’t posted anything about them. Here they are in all their gritty glory.

I love the range of expressions – slightly madly happy, stoned, sullen and angry.
Whoever you are, grit box graffiti person, I salute you!

about last night

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Very sinister goings on in the neighbourhood last night…

I must warn you that once you get past the pumpkin, some of these photographs are a little tasteless. But despite appearances – copious amounts of Ketchup, jam of dubious origin and a very noisy chainsaw (blades off) – it was actually incredibly jolly.

The air was filled with shrieks and screams, and lots and lots of laughter, as a couple of hundred trick-or-treaters were treated to grisly tricks and vast quantities of sweets.

woooooooo!

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Lots of activity on the street in preparation for our annual Hallowe’en bash. As it’s a weekday, and quite a few of us have been caught out by an inset day today (gah! needed that like I needed a poke in the eye), it won’t be quite as big as last year’s event. But from what little I’ve seen and heard, the houses that are participating will be giving it their all.

I know that people have very mixed feelings about Hallowe’en, but here it is celebrated with such gusto and high spirits, that it’s impossible to resist. I love the way that neighbours whose children have grown up and left home still go to considerable lengths to create spooky happenings for other people’s children. And of course the girls LOVE it. In fact black tights are being sacrificed by scissor-happy children as I type. Hair has already been teased back into the tangled nests I painstakingly untangled last night.

PS Thank you so much for all the sweet comments about Otto. We are all feeling much better about it now. It was certainly the right thing to have done, it just felt so awful having to make the decision.