The Red Lion of Cambridge

The Red Lion statue is something of a Cambridge icon. It stood on a plinth in Lion Yard, which opened in the early 1970s, and marked the spot of the Red Lion Hotel/Pub that was demolished in 1969 and gave the  shopping precinct it's name. A wikipedia article claims the statue was a prototype of the South Bank Lion, originally made for  the Lion Brewery in Lambeth in the 1800s and currently residing on Westminster Bridge. The prototype was apparently later discovered in Woburn, near Milton Keynes, and moved to Cambridge when the Lion Yard was opened. I don't know accurate this is but I can find nothing else on how the statue came into being so I'm prepared to give this tale the benefit of the doubt.

The Lion provided the focal point of the precinct. 'I'll meet you under the Red Lion' must have been one of the most used expressions in town.  Around the turn of the millennium, the precinct was re-developed and the Lion put in storage. It did not reappear. In Local legend, drunk university students had climbed up the plinth to sit on the lion before falling off and injuring themselves, rendering the statue too much of a health and safety hazard for the council to risk reinstating it. This is almost certainly an urban myth although no doubt pissed people had attempted to scale the plinth and possibly hurt themselves on more than one occasion. Others thought the council had carelessly lost the Lion due to ineptness. 

When the precinct reopened, it had become a sort of proto-public-private space. Gates were added and closed at night, removing access to what had previously been an apparently public right of way. Smoking, dogs and bikes were prohibited. Later, the council revealed it had found the Lion and had agreed to give it to the Cambridge University Rugby Union Club. A campaign appeared on Facebook demanding the statue be returned to its rightful place, but was unsuccessful. The Facebook campaign reflected the feeling that 'ordinary' people's interests had been set aside in favour of commercial development and the University. The exile of the Lion from it's 'rightful habitat' seems to symbolize a significant point in the ongoing gentrification and accelerated development in Cambridge. The larger and more upmarket Grand Arcade shopping centre was attached to the Lion Yard not long after the initial re-development. Elsewhere in the city saw the start of increasing development of luxury flats and student housing schemes as well as the ongoing pseudo-public space of the CB1 development around the station. The Cambridge Leisure Park on the old cattle market site has undoubtedly provided a place incorporating leisure activities aimed more at the Hoi Polloi. But these are cordoned these off in an edge out of town sterile pseudo-public space dominated by the usual chain restaurants, a Travelodge, Sainsbury's and Tesco Express to compliment the cinema, bowling alley and the Junction arts/music venue.

 

I decided to make a walk to the Lion in its current and possibly permanent abode, trapped in a perspex case doomed to watch rugby for eternity.  It would have made sense I suppose to have started at the original site but I couldn't be doing with the shoppers and tourists (it was a Saturday). I decided to take a less obvious and rambling walk starting at Cambridge's currently most maligned development, the area around the station. My starting point was the bottom of one of the more sensible constructions of recent decades, the cycle bridge in the Station car park (above).

The CB1 development, irritatingly marketed as 'See, Bee' and ' The new city quarter for Cambridge', has transformed the area immediately surrounding the station. Much has been said about it elsewhere, not a lot of it complimentary. It's been called a 'future slum' and apparently has been 'plagued by anti-social development and sex trafficking'  A recent Guardian article gave a pretty good summary. In contrast, the ominously named 'CB1 Masterplan' was shortlisted for a prestigious Royal Town Planning Institute Award for 'exceptional examples of planning.' But then, they don't have to use it.

The original station building is listed and so is (at least on the outside) unaffected. I'd never really paid too much attention to the various coats of arms decorating the front of the building. These date back to the building of the station, although others have been added as recently as 1986. Some have disappeared and reappeared in different locations on the building over the years. Most represent various Cambridge colleges.

The one above belongs to Murray Edwards College, previously known as New Hall until about 2008. The name change was not connected to the colleges disasterous University Challenge performance a decade before, with one of the lowest ever scores ever seen, against Nottingham University.

The arcaneness of the heraldry here adds a bit of mystery and intrigue to the area. Which is just as well, because it is in short supply, other than the lack of communication about the 'by laws' enforceable by the site owners, Brookgate. As in most 'private public spaces' there is little to tell you the space is privately owned with its own rules until you break them and are approached by a man in a hi-vis jacket.

This building above, which predates the main development, is opposite the station. In the foreground the new taxi rank, which didn't seem to feature in the computer generated art promoting the area before it was finished. It was depicted, rather, as a sophisticated plaza with coffee shops and people sitting around relaxing.

The sculpture below is outside the new Microsoft building, which replaced a 60s office block demolished a few years ago. I was tempted to walk through it. Maybe I would be teleported to a different dimension, Narnia or the Golden Egg restaurant in the '70s where I could drink a milshake withing feet of the Lion's podium. More likely I'd be taken to task by a high-vis jacket wearing official or one of the ridiculously attired porters outside the new posh hotel next door.

Along  station road away from the station and the plaza/taxi rank, one side is in the process of development, all office buildings. The Victorian era Wilton Terrace was fairly recently demolished, despite significant opposition and the City Council initially refusing the planning application. The City Council were overruled  by the Government Planning inspector who saw 'little architectural interest' in Wilton Terrace. A large office block will be constructed in its place and will probably mean the independent  traders operating out sheds days are numbered. Apparently it was made difficult for independent businesses to apply to take on any of the retail units in front of the station, resulting in the usual cavalcade of bland eateries and coffee shops (and Sainsburys).

The other side of the street, once beyond the Microsoft Building, is made up of Victorian buildings like the one above. Some are used for offices, others for language schools and private sixth form colleges. These are untouched by the  development so far, as is the parade of shops and flats on the corner of Station Road/Hills Road.  The latter was recently up for auction with 'development potential'. Diagonally opposite this is the giant space age glass edifice of of Botanic House, a building I had observed growing from the back yard of excellent Flying Pig next door. The Pig, unfortunately, is under threat to be knocked down at some point and replaced by more offices or flats with a new bar incorporated as an inadequate concession to the loss of a fine pub.

The Q Club is part of building on the corner of Hills Road/Station Road. This is probably the last 'alternative' nightclub in Cambridge (not that there's ever been many) and the final bastion for various club nights that used to happen in other venues around town. The metal door looks bullet proof,  as if the place is under siege. The club has had previous incarnations. Previously it was a Salsa club. Prior to that it was Zenon, I think. Back in the early 80s it was the Sound Cellar. I remember going past in my parents car seeing punks que up outside.  Punk bands played there, as well as people like Marillion, Tears For Fears, Big Country and various others who went on to greater things and many who didn't. Notable local bands who played when starting out are The Fire Department, who later had connections with Thee Headcoats and Billy Childish, and Subculture, a skinhead band who I believe are still around. It's not big inside the 'cellar' and the atmosphere must have been intimate to say the least. And sweaty.

Opposite the Q Club is a bizarre office building currently occupied by Apple. I read somewhere that they were secretly in the building when it appeared empty, for some reason not wanting to draw attention to themselves. The Apple logo is now displayed outside but is quite low key. The building has a sort of secret laboratory feel and i can imagine men in white coats conducting secret experiments inside, the sort of thing that might feature in an episode of  The Avengers or The Men From Uncle. Quite a contrast to the Microsoft building down the road.

Heading along Hills Road towards town I passed Highsett. I'd never really taken much notice of it  and assumed it was some sort of warden controlled community for retired people. It doesn't seem accessible to the public, and although I've never tried to enter, google street view won't allow you to follow the road through the back entrance on Tenisson Avenue which sort of backs this up.  The development was conceived by Architects Eric Lyons and Ivor Cunningham for Span Developments Limited. The first phase (a bit of which is shown below) dates from 1960 and the last phase finished in 1964. The development has won architectural awards and some of the buildings are grade II listed. Originally they were conceived as affordable homes for young professionals and the modernist design was radical at the time. They resemble the types of building seen on more well though out council estates in some parts of the country. Now going for about half a million, affordable is no longer a fitting description, even for young professionals. It's a pity that affordable homes can't be built like this any longer. Eric Lyons is quoted as saying 'The test of good housing is not whether it can be built easily, but whether it can be lived in easily.'  A test that rarely seems to be applied to contemporary residential development.

I took a wander down Russell Street, next to the Coop where my Dad was the manager. He retired about 20 years ago, but still recalls tales of confrontations with drunks and shoplifters, which for him were some of the highlights of the job. Other characters visiting the shop were residents of a sort of half way house for people with mental health problems. These included a man who insisted it was the law for men to grow beards (if he's still alive he must be pleased) and an enormous man called Kennedy who was kept on medication to sedate him. I thought there might be a cut through at the end of Russel Street but there wasn't. I'd never been right to the bottom of the street where  I came across the building above.  Formerly St Pauls Day and Sunday School, a National School no less according to the old engraving on the front, it is now private residencies. I'm not sure when the building ceased to be a school but my mum went there in the late 40s, maybe early 50s. The St Pauls School moved to new buildings later on the parallel Coronation Street (no, not that one!).

I headed back onto Hills Road to be faced with the 'Chosen Bun', an expensive hipster burger joint. This brought back memories of the Mumtaz Mahal Indian Restaurant which once occupied the building and must have closed in the 80s. I say memories, but only vague ones of the downstairs bar/takeaway area while I waited with my Dad occasionally for a very good curry. This was in the days where my Dad had moved on from providing a Friday night Vesta curry to something more sophisticated. Maybe he'd had a payrise. I don't recall what the Mumtaz became following it's closure but later it was a Dominos pizza place before it's current incarnation. Back in the early 20th century the building was the site of the Norfolk Temperance Hotel. Temperance hotels were, from what I can gather, pubs with no beer and many were established across the country. Later I recall visiting another Indian restaurant almost opposite, The Raj-Balesh, on my 16th birthday. The restaurant has survived til this day. Another semi-legendary institution was the Sultan's Restaurant across the road. This did fine kebabs and steaks but possibly more notably, had a sort of basement area which opened late for drinks and pool playing (this was pre-24 hour licencing). Along with Bodrums which used to be next to the Q club, this provided a mixture of mostly locals and students from the various language schools  with the opportunity for a late drink without having to face the horrors of the town centre's naff and conventional night clubs and the people who inhabited them.The area being a bit out of town made it feel a bit of a safe haven while at the same time slightly dodgy. I recall the drink of choice (the only choice) in Bodrums was sherry.

Just next door to Sultan's (now a Chinese Restaurant) is St Pauls Church.  I headed down Coronation Street, just opposite. A little way along, an intriguingly half revealed/half covered notice about contacting someone about something.

Opposite are two of Cambridge's tallest blocks of flats, Hanover Court and Princess Court, the nearest thing to high rise the City has other than the nurses quarters at Addenbrookes Hospital. They were built after slum clearance of part of the area, which is part of a district called Newtown. My mum had an aunt and uncle living in one of the streets, Queen Street she says.

My only direct experience of the flats is delivering leaflets for my dad when I was in my 20s. This took place on Sunday mornings and was an activity that came to be known in my head as 'Hangover Court'. I don't recall hearing or seeing a single person while I marched up and down stairs and corridors shoving undoubtedly unwanted bits of paper through letter boxes. On more than one occasion the communal rubbish shute became a depository for handfuls of the leaflets (sorry Dad!).

My Dad had a somewhat unpleasant experience in the 80s when he, accompanied by the police, followed a shoplifter to a flat there. The man threatened to push my dad off the balcony before he was nicked. My Dad was lucky. Less so the man who recently fell to his death from one of the blocks. Someone was arrested for attempted murder and the story brought the flats to the attention of the Mirror and The Daily Mail. The internet doesn't offer up much other information about the flats other than a community garden group and residents association exists, momentum held a meeting in the community hall recently and the flats were a favoured spot for parkour a few years ago resulting in damage to the buildings.

                                                  

St Paul's School has its current location opposite. A notice about funding next to one advertising a car boot sale indicating the financial climate of contemporary state education. Private schools St Mary's and Perse Girls School, a stone's throw away, undoubtedly are immune from these worries.

I

A bit further down, a garage sporting a Dutch flag.

Below is the back window of the Panton Arms, the more upmarket of the two pubs in the area. Before the slum clearance there was at least one other, The Ship. After this disappeared a replacement Ship was built on Kings Hedges estate in Northern outskirts of Cambridge, one of very few estate/flat roofed pubs in the City.  And future destination for a walk I think.

At the bottom of Russell Court there is a sort of depression used as a yard/car park. In one of the walls a Cambridge Coat of Arms has been incorporated. The helmet was not added to the coat of arms until 1974 which might pre-date the wall but not by much. 1974 was also the year Cambridge was re-awarded City status.

The windows peering over the wall behind the coat of arms belong to The Alma, the other pub in the area. It used to be called the Alma Brewery until sometime into the 90s. Around that time it seemed a thing for pubs to drop the end bit off their names, becoming 'the something' instead of 'the something Arms' etc. It's still renowned for live music. There is a regular Sunday night open mike slot called  'Songsmith Sessions', run by Ezio, one of Cambridge's more famous local musos, who had the dubious honour of being featured in Tony Blair's desert island disc selection.

The Alma is one of those pubs I've not visited much, other than the occasional work do. I've never managed to see any music there either. My first attempted visit to the pub, and only attempt to go to a gig there, was to see a local rock band called 'Colonel Gomez' when I was about 15. The landlord at the time was a chap called Nick Wittington who later went on to stand for the Monster Raving Looney Party in Cambridge as well as running other pubs and having an impressive collection of hats. He wasn't loony enough to lose his licence for letting in underaged drinkers and told us in no uncertain terms we had to leave and wouldn't be seeing the band. Arriving on my mums shopper bike might not have helped my cause.

The compere of the Songsmith Sessions is Tom Dalpra, a musical character who has been around since my youth when he used to front the local band Nutmeg. They won the Cambridge Rock Competition the first year I went to it (1988?) and were quite a big thing locally after that for a few years. Colonel Gomez had played the rock competition probably a year or two before that (the link above is at the event I think). Both bands were staples of the local rock scene of my youth and passing the Alma dredged up memories of sweaty mosh pits, getting drunk  and mostly poor attempts at relations with the opposite sex at places like the Sea Cadet Hall, the Burleigh Arms and The Boat Race. None at the Alma though, which is the only one still there.

Across the street the Christian Science Church were soon to host a summer soiree, shamefully showing how long it's taken me to get round to writing this blog. The building has been used as a polling station for many years. It was upgraded in 2011 and is hired out for various community activities, as an exam hall and for music. One of the few things left in Cambridge that's cheap (and in many cases free) are lunchtime concerts and talks at various churches and University buildings. These are not always very well advertised and have to be sought out a bit if you're not in the know or stumbled on by accident. I went to a talk a while back at a part of the University with Iain Sinclair and Nick Papadimitriou. It was part of an opening night of an art exhibition on edgelands and space. I can't recall how I found out about it but these things go on all the time. Nick Papadimitriou said it was the first time he had arrived in Cambridge by train since doing his A-Levels at CCAT in the 70s. I think his first impressions of 'See Bee 2' were on par with mine.  Anyhow, the Christian Science Church is on the circuit of free and obscure events, although probably not many featuring psychogeographers.

By contrast, at the Cambridge Masonic Hall round the corner on Bateman Street 'very limited opportunity' for private functions and business seminars is available. This is the meeting place of the Lodge of The Three Grand Principles No.441, who acquired the building in 1968. Previously it was occupied by Cheshunt College, a Theological college which had merged the year before with Westminister College on Madingley Road. Before this, for just over 100 years, until 1962, Lodge No. 441 had met at the Red Lion Hotel, moving due to the development that would soon after see the coming of the Red Lion Statue to the same spot. If I were a conspiracy theorist I'm sure I could come up with some sinister connection between these events. But I'm not. However, there was a connection with this walk, since it was about the Red Lion and it's former site. That's good enough for me.

The building seems also to be used by the three private educational establishments listed on the sign above. The main St Mary's school is just across the street. The other two I had never heard of. Looking through the gates into the grounds made me wonder how I had not noticed this building before, while other places in the area were well known to me.

Onto Trumpington Road, one of the main routes in and out of Cambridge, I crossed Hobson's Conduit This waterway runs from the Nine Wells, beyond Addenbrokes Hospital at the edge of Cambridge, into town. Designed to bring clean water into town and named after Thomas Hobson, entrepreneur and philaphropist who provided much of the funding. He is probably best known for the expression 'Hobson's choice, coined by the poet John Milton and a reference to the way Hobson hired his horses to people. The customer could choose the next one in line by the staable door or none at all. The conduit, aka Hobsons's Brook, is a walk I'll save for another day.

I have clear memories of the wall below having 'Theatre of Hate' painted on it in large letters, probably in the early 80s. I would have gone past it on the way to the dentist in my dad's car, probably the only time I would have seen it in those days. I'm certain it was there for some time, but like an obscure childrens TV programme, it's  something nobody else  I talk to seems to remember. The same is true of the legend 'Jack the Biscuit is Skinhead OK' spray painted in a similar size on a wall across town on Perne Road around the same time. Seemingly connected to this one was a smaller bit of graffitti in Cherry Hinton that said 'Jack The Biscuit is Fred The Carpet'. I think I probably knew that Theatre Of Hate were a band, I think they had been on Top of The Pops. But Jack the Biscuit was an unknown quantity, and since it involved Skinheads, one that indicated violence in my young mind.

None of my friends knew who Jack the biscuit/Fred the Carpet were and I had never heard of the Kray Twins at the time or Jack 'The Hat' McVitie (Jack the Biscuit - get it?). Had a local skinhead assumed the moniker?  Was the graffitti artist was refering to himself? Or did Jack live only in his imagination, as he did in mine? Maybe it was a  cryptic message between groups of football hooligans. Theatre of Hate and Jack The Biscuit have been removed from both walls  for years ago now and seemingly the collective memory to.

I've never been sure of the name of the area of green which occupies the space between the footpath along the wall and that following the course of another branch of Hobson's conduit (directy behind the camera in the picture). A bit further along this branch of the brook is Sheeps Green/Lammas Land and Coe Fen. I've never been sure which is which, my parents used to refer to it all as 'Newnham', which is the name of the suburb/village just West and North of the green spaces. Helpfully, this map seems to suggest this bit is called 'New Bit' which may or may not be the proper name. I reckon 'Theatre of Hate Wall Green' would be a better one.

Along the brook there are a couple of crossings to schools and private houses, as well as the one above with an intriguing passage to somewhere in the direction of Chaucer Road, a very 'Gown' area of Cambridge. I'd never been down it and made a mental note to revisit.

Above is a bit of Coe Fen (according to the map just referred to). Cambridge is quite good at green spaces and this area is one of the better ones, particularly in winter when there are less people about. It has a bizarre marshy quality and slight otherworldlyness.

From the footbridge over the River Cam (or maybe it's called Granta at this point, another thing I'm not sure of depite living here for over 40 years), I tried to get a picture (above) of Hodson's folly. Not to be confused with Hobson of the Conduit, the name refers to John Hodson, who had the small shelter built in 1887 so he could keep an eye on his daughter while she swam in the river. I'd have thought a normal bench and an umbrella would have done the job. But then, I've never inherited a large sum of money, some freehold properties and a collection of stuffed birds. If I had, maybe I'd think differently.

I carried on until I reached the Lammas Land paddling pool. It being autumn, it was closed for use and had been drained. In the grey light of the day, the blue of the bottom of the pool looked intense. I don't know what they use for lining it.

The sign explaining the seasonal closure wanted  to direct me to the website of an organisation called 'Better' so I could find out how they could help me keep active active over the winter. I wasn't aware of Better, probably because I don't use gyms and swimming pools. I've had a look since and it is the public facing 'brand' of Greenwich Leisure Limited, a social enterprise initially set up to remove the burden of providing leisure facilities, such as swimming pools and libraries, from the local authorities in Greenwich. I notice on their website displays the logo of the  'Big Society Awards 2011'. Around that time, 'The Big Society' was an idea promoted by the conservative MP Eric Pickles when he was Secretary of State for Local Government (or something like that). It was basically a way of moving the provsion of as many  public social services as possible to anyone other than local or central and Government, as cheaply as possible. Often by volunteers for free, if not by other 'third sector' organisations such as social enterprises and other charities. This is still going on, of course, even though the slogan 'Big Society' is seldom used anymore. It's just seen as 'business as usual' these days.

I'm not sure who is responsible for the ice cream art above but I'd wager it's a product of the third sector, probably unpaid primary school children.

On Lammas Land next to the paddling pool is a childrens play area. I used to come here as a kid and play on the rides. I was pleasantly surprised that some of the old ones were still here.  The roundabout and horse shown below are things I thought would long since have been replaced and would be considered old hat and probaly too dangerous these days, even without the concrete bases they used to have.

The way the horses head was painted now reminded me of a hobby horse, like those seen in the parade in The wicker Man or sometimes with Morris dancers . Before it would have been painted red all over, resembling a mutant chess piece. The playground horse is a bizarre creature in, being elongated enough to accommodate five saddles and having no legs.

It was early Saturday afternoon and the area was pretty much deserted and no children were playing there at all. Granted, it was raining a bit and late September. From a purely selfish point of view I was glad of this. It was the nearest I'd get in Cambridge to wandering around an abandoned fairground.

Nearby a couple of trees were partly pointed blue, giving off a glowing hue in the grey light of the day. Almost a reflection of the paddling pool. I don't know if this a mark of disease and impending removal by tree surgeons. It would be nice to think they were connected to the 'Blue Trees project' in America but I suspect not. There would have been a notice or something.


I followed the path to the bowling  pavillion and crossed the road before heading down a road called 'Summerfield' that I'd never been down. It lead to a sports field and tennis court, which according to google maps is Gonville and Caius College Sports Ground. When I arrived nobody was around, although an 'annual gathering' was due to take place, probably for alumi of the college (or another college). The decription of these events, which sound very formal, can be found here. I'd never heard of anyone being  'Marticulated' before reading this. A student is marticulated when they are enrolled at a college formally and a ceremony involving things like formal photographs, dinners and services. A bit like a graduation but at the beginning of University instead of the end. Students become members of colleges for life and hence are invited back for the annual gatherings, mainly I think to extract donations from them. Such are the bizarre rituals and rites that go on in the University.

Next to the tennis court I spotted an open gate and footpath , running between the sports field and the back of some houses. There were no signs to say I shouldn't, so I followed it. Having lived in Cambridge as long as I have, I'm glad there are still plenty of nooks and crannies I've never explored and don't yet know exist. The path was pointing the right way to the Lion so I was hoping to find a way there which meant I could avoid the familiar route of Barton Road (a main road to the left of here).

The path turned left after it ran out of backs of houses and was diverted by another sports field which couldn't be accessed.  I found myself in Clare Road, another place up to now unknown to me. It had large houses and the feel of a private road to begin with. I felt a bit self concious and wondered if I was 'allowed' here. It was eerily quiet and I saw no-one. There were no signs so I pressed on. I had a rucksack and could probably pass myself as a lost middle aged walker from out of town (it would only be partly untrue!).

Emerging from Clare Road, I was almost opposite the Red Bull pub. Another pub I have visited very rarely, it's a bit out of the way for me. I was tempted to go in but the road was too busy to cross easily. I took this as a sign and carried on in the opposite direction.

I little way along on the right was St Mary's Court, yet another road I'd never been down. Hoping there was a route through to Grange Road, I turned right into it. The dwellings here were considerably less grand than those in the surronding areas, they looked like they may have been council housing originally, mostly of the unsual flat roofed type as seen in the picture below. It was like walking into a completely different part of town. 

The road ended but turned into a footpath leading to another road which turned left and out onto Grange Road. Opposite was another intriguing road/path, this time leading to 'Leckhampton', a post graduate facility belonging to Corpus Christi College. There was no doubt this was private, so I carried on along Grange Road.

Grange Road is the home of various colleges, post graduate accomodation and various other University buidlings and sites. I don't think there is anything along it not connected to the University.  I didn't spot anything else of particular interest along the way, but the atmopshere is a 'university-ish' (unsurprisingly). I can't really explain what I meant by that..something to do with memories of visiting bits of the University when I was a child, probably on school trips or just wandering round with my parents. The students looked old to me then and back in the 70s I remember them being people who wore corduroy, had beards and looked similar to Bamber Gascoine who used to host University Challenge. I had no real idea what being a student was and didn't know anything about the colleges or University. It sounded complicated and important and part of something other. I had no interest in the old buildings like Kings Chapel back thenbut remember more the modernist/brutalist type architecture of colleges like Churchill College. I imagined what it must be like to inhabit such places.

In later years I got to know a few people at Cambridge University, mostly ones who were involved in the 'Gong Appreciation Society' and who mingled with locals like me. They used to hold 'GAS Discos', usually at Clare College Cellars. I was able to visit bits of collages, mainly bars but also halls of residence and dining rooms with these people. Although my perception of students had changed - they were younger and didn't look like Bamber Gasgoine anymore - the atmosphere still felt the same as it had when I was a kid- still a bit other, a bit late 70s. My brain seems to bring this to the fore when areas like Grange Road, as if it's stuck with this imaginary perception from my earliest encounters of the University of Cambridge.

I pondered this until I got to the point of my walk. The Cambridge University Rugby Union Football Club has a Red Lion as it's symbol. The club will mark it's 150th anniversary in 2021. It's website bears the slogan 'Roaring Louder, Roaring Prounder'. But like everyone else, they seem to be undergoing some financial hardship having made losses for the last three years and are eating into their reserves. They are tapping up the alumni as part of their funding and development plan.

At the moment though, they haven't resorted to extracting money from visitors to see the Lion, or even worse raffling him in a charity draw.  Nobody stopped me going in. The gate was open and a couple of people appeared to have arrived early for a rugby match but ignored me and I ignored them.

It was at the sametime magical and mundane to see the Lion again. It was in a car park next to some fire escape stairs, a less than magnificent setting. I'm not sure if this is a permenant arrangement but presumably funding a plinth is not a priority in the current financial climate. But at least it is being looked after and on display for those who can be bothered to make the trek to Grange Road. I think it is on a bus route for those less enthused by walking.

I was glad I'd finally seen the Lion in it's new setting. If it had always been here it would have fitted in, I wouldn't have batted an eyelid. Afterall,  the University is inundated with heraldry and symbolism, which often incorporates lions and other animals. But it hasn't and it felt out of place, like when you see a person you know at random in a place you've never associated with them or never expected to see them in. I couldn't help but equate the 'banishment'  and 'trapping' of the Lion to this space with the ongoing gentrification and change in Cambridge. It was as if by restraining the Lion these forces have been left unchecked without any significant challenge while they push out the old and replace it with the new. The Lion looks a bit  sad and demoralised.  It would be nice to think if it was freed and put back in town the tide would turn (at least a bit). Like in the Lion, the Witch and The Wardrobe when the Lion leads the revolt against the Ice Queen and her turkish delight. If this brought about the revival of 'Golden Egg' cafes instead of Costa Coffee, so much the better.

I reflected on this admittedly whimsical analogy while I walked away. I wondered if I was wallowing too much in nostalgia (there's a fine line between that and psychogeography I think). I also considered that when I started to do walks the aim was to seek out the interesting and bizarre, and escape the everyday through the mundane. But I'd just ended up ranting on about gentrification. In many cities this is something that is both physically and mentally difficult to escape from, and in Cambridge it is rife.

As I had reached my destination, the walk was 'officially' ended. Except I still had to walk home. I carried on down Grange Road and eventually found myself at The Punter in Northampton Street, where I escaped gentrification temporarily with a pint of Turpin's Black. Here's a few more pictures from that stretch finishing with a view of the wallpaper and grafiiti in the gents at the Punter.

St Catherine's College coat of arms features the Breaking wheel (or Catherine Wheel), a device used for torture and execution in Roman Times. Catherine of Alexandria, the story goes, was ordered to been executed on such a wheel. But the wheel fell apart on touching her. She was beheaded instead. The Wheel is also the name of the colleges alumni publication. Hopefully a real one isn't brought out at the annual gatherings as a way of extracting funds.

Above a modern sculpture in front of an old building. No idea of it's significance.

Above the red brick brutalist Robinson College. A sometime venue for GAS discos I recall and a college attended by a couple of people I still know from that time. Around the same time Nick Clegg, the Liberal Democrat, also attended this college (not the GAS discos though, I don't think). From this angle the building looks not unlike Hanover Court.

A rear view of the Cambridge University Library and it's sinister tower. It always reminded me of the TV programme 'The Book Tower' with Tom Baker. They used to let locals go in to the library who were studying at other institutions in the summer. I spent a summer 'revising' there and found a desserted area among volumes of a publication called 'Yachting Monthly' on the sixth floor. Nobody ever came up there and it was a proper library where you had to be quiet. The place was staffed by a particularly bizarre array of people. The University had (if not anymore) a reputation for providing employment for those unemployable elsewhere (except maybe the civil service). My experience seemed to bear this out.

Good to see some real tennis still goes on, rather than all this fake tennis you keep hearing about. Maybe this for the benefit of Donald Trump should Cambridge ever have the unfortunate pleasure of a visit from him.

Near the Backs, on Queens Road, disquiet about the Cambridge City Deal from the Coton Busway Action Group. It seems that one of the plans was to close the road along the Backs and Grange Road at peak times, meaning more traffic in Coton. Theres also the proposed busway that the residents of Coton are not happy about. How this has any detriment to the Backs themselves I'm not sure.  Prior to this protest the City Deal had been rebranded the Greater Cambridge Partnership and had a new slogan 'Growing and Sharing Prosperity'. Im not sure why this was necessary. I think the residents of Coton have some good points to make about increased traffice congestion and the fallacy of another (mis) guided busway but can't help feeling there is also a large helping of nimbyism going on (said the man who's been ranting about gentrification).

At the end of Queens Road the Westminister College, mentioned earlier.

I'll leave the last word to the wall of the gents in the Punter.

Wandering the Steel City

Staying just outside of Sheffield for a few days provided the chance for a wander around the 'Steel City' with my partner. An 'alternative' city guide book provided by our hosts served as a starting point. It was split into sections for different 'quarters' of the city.  An odd term I always think, since there usually seem to be more than four of them. Sheffield originally had eleven according to Wikipedia and later a twelfth was  added from what I can gather. Confusingly, Sheffield also has four city centre 'districts'.  In Roman times cities were often divided into four actual quarters where presumably the term originates. I suppose more accurately calling an area the 'Devonshire Eleventh' might be more confusing but I think  would have a certain ring to it. Anyway, I digress. The guidebook provided enough inspiration to make up a very rudimentary checklist of areas/things we might incorporate into our wander which gave us a very loose plan. My partner was not really up for the idea of just wandering off in a random direction and seeing what happened in my usual fashion. Having had a cursory look at a map the night before, put an A-Z in the rucksack for emergencies and with combined vague memories of previous visits some years back, we caught a train to the Steel City armed with probably very different but equally unreliable mental maps.

Leaving the station at Sheffield we were confronted by the steel wall of the Cutting Edge sculpture. An 81 foot long graffiti proof water fountain, this is part of something called the 'Gold Route'. A series of spaces and streets incorporating public art, intersecting with both Universities and the main shopping 'spine', representing 'The Heart of the City'. We weren't aware of this formal route while we were there but our walk took us through its early stages. Had we not been heading for the Millennium Gallery anyway, I'm sure we would have found ourselves pulled in it's direction.

Along the way there was street art complimented by giant poems on the side of buildings, written by ex-poet laureate Andrew Motion and Ian McMillen (that bloke from 'the Verb' on Radio 3). The painting on the side of the building below is Harry Bearley , credited as being the inventor of stainless steel.

Poetry in Motion.....

In the Millennium Gallery we were confronted by an impressive sculpture of a sunflower made out of steel cutlery. While we were admiring it a very friendly woman approached and introduced herself as the former art teacher of the sculptor. We had no reason to doubt her. Following this brief encounter and chance connection with the object made of steel cutlery, which itself represented the city in some way (sunflowers, roots, rejuvenation??), we soon had a less than brief encounter with another Sheffield resident.

The man in question, it turned out, had worked in the steel industry in some capacity since he had left school, and was  a victim of its decline. In his 60s and baffled by the internet age, he had been left behind by technology after being made redundant.  I got the impression he was a frequent visitor to the cutlery room and would to talk to anyone who would listen about the industry, it's decline and his plight. The environment of the Millennium Gallery seemed to represent rejuvenation of the city and hope for the future.   This man was a living ghost of its recent past, haunting the cutlery room as an inconvenient reminder of the  washed-up and de-skilled. The cruel irony of all this was all too apparent. But he did go on. As we attempted to politely extract ourselves from his rambling monologue, he recommended the pubs of Kelham Island where he said he was heading later. A good pint of Barnsley Bitter could still be had, he said.

Between the encounter with cutlery man and the teacher, in another part of the gallery I saw an excellent exhibit about the journey of tomato seeds through the sewage system. Tomato seeds remain intact when they pass through the human digestive system, and during their journey through the sewage system, ending at waste dumps where the sludge is piled up and tomato plants thrive.  The main part of the exhibit was a film on loop depicting the journey of the  the tomato seed through the liminal civil engineered landscape.  The artist harvested fruit from some of the plants, had it checked out and found it was safe to eat so made some jars of  'Shit Chutney'.  More about this can be found at the artist Ruth Levene's website. Some of her other work covers maps, water and walking and is worth checking out.

Away from the gallery we found ourselves in a square featuring a temporary 'seaside' with fairground rides, stalls and somewhat alarming rubbish bins.

A short distance from this we found ourselves in an area evidently in the process of 'development'. The Salvation Army had abandoned it's citadel. I didn't know the Sally Army had citadels. Such things sound a bit exotic for an organisation associated with Jesus, temperance and brass bands. But I liked the building and felt sad that it might be demolished to make way for something far less interesting. 

Near a car park and what was left of light industrial/workshop type buildings the other end of this street, a sort of army Captain was depicted, maybe a Salvation Army Captain as viewed by a less temperant member of the community. Maybe pointing in warning of both 'the drink' and of the bland shopping centre that the notices nearby showed planned for the area.

We had planned to visit the iconic bookshop Rare and Racy, but it turned out it had recently closed. Devonshire Road (in the 'Devonshire Quarter') was undergoing development. Jarvis Cocker from Pulp viewed the idea to close the shop as a crime and somebody the local paper asked said they would not walk down that stretch of road anymore. The street currently has a mixture of  coffee shops, restaurants, vintage clothes emporiums and a miscellany of other independent shops, but there is concern whether these will last before more bland development and more generic chain outlets move in. Same old story. I acquired a very fine suede jacket in one of the shops, getting a bargain and doing my bit to support them.

The woman who sold me the jacket said the area had some shops in the street could do with improvement. I'd noticed a Private Shop nearby and wondered if she had been referring to it. The chain of sex shops always seemed to locate in slightly less salubrious parts of town. We have one in Cambridge on Chesterton Road, which is another area currently undergoing a sort of post-hipster gentrification. I've often wondered how on earth such shops keep going in the age of the internet and relentlessly bland urban development. You'd have thought they would have declined at a similar rate to 'bramble mags' which, like white dogshit, you rarely see anymore.  While I'm not inclined to go into such places, I think as long as they exist they represent something 'other' and have the ability to make passers by feel a bit uncomfortable in their surroundings. As such they give two fingers to those who want to 'smarten up' areas to the point of sterility.

Not far from the vintage shop we saw a man my partner was convinced was on the 'zombie' drug 'spice' standing (just about) on a corner. Another man was sprawled half unconscious outside a pub. She maintained he must have been on spice too. It was hard to argue that the bloke may have just been very pissed considering the pub had only just opened and I don't doubt she was right. The contrast between the men out of their heads and the future aspirations of the encroaching developers on the  Devonshire Quarter seemed to symbolise the opposite and grim ends of the pole of contemporary urban development and (post) modern Britain in general.

The mural above was somewhere at the end of the road. The area has a good amount of streetart. This one done by Tellas, an Italian artist, was part of something called 'Feature walls' in 2016. The street art of the City is extensively documented on Street Art Sheffield, including a map which would be good for anyone wanting to conduct a 'street art' walk.

Soon after we found ourselves in the pedestrianised shopping area known as The Moor.  The link is actually for an article about 'The Moor Quarter' which presumably includes a slightly wider area. This is one of the major shopping areas in the City. It was good to see it thriving despite the presence of the out of town Meadowhall, which at one time was seen as a threat to city centre shops. I'm not a great one for shopping but if I have to a shopping street, without a roof over it, is in my view far preferable to an out of town covered 'Mall' with its own security guards and terrible piped music. I went to Meadowhall on a geography field trip in the early '90s and found the experience profoundly uninspiring.

Across the road at the end of the street we walked past the giant brown ziggurat-like behemoth of the Moorfoot building dwarfing a small precinct of shops at its base. The building housed Civil Servants from various Government Departments until 2014. Now it's occupied by Sheffield City Council, following an abandoned plan to demolish it. The building dates from 1981 and originally had a staff restaurant, a rarity these days in the workplace and bar which is even rarer.

The other side of the building we crossed the inner ring road through an impressive underpass which I failed to photograph. Over the other side, at the end of London Road, the face above may have been trying to scare us off. I read somewhere later that London Road had a reputation for drugs and violence. We saw some rowdy football fans (there was a match on, one of the Sheffield football teams plays not far away), and a couple of dodgy looking blokes outside a pub. But a bit further down the road were newer coffee bars and restaurants opening.

Before we started down the road I was trying to photograph the Chinese Fireworks Company. I always seem to encounter establishments connected to fireworks on these walks. I only managed the effort below before my partner suggested we move on swiftly. She'd spotted Cutlery Man  in a nearby phone box looking for money or fag butts. We didn't have time for a second  prolonged encounter with him and luckily he didn't see us.

Just further up is a Sainsburys housed in what's left of a former cinema. The facade is retained but much of the original building was demolished as part of a development. The building had been used as a nightclub called Tiffany's in the 70's and more recently known as known as 'Bed' before closing down.

We were heading towards Abbeydale Road, a long stretch in the 'Antiques Quarter'. Unfortunately the splendidly named Rude Shipyard, the first shop we passed,was closed. The name made me wonder if the proprietor was an antique selling nautical version of Bernard Black from the TV comedey  'Black Books'.  The road contained various other antique/vintage/junk shops. There is also a cafe, said to be frequented by scooter boys and mods from the Ace Scooter Club but there was no sign of them when we went by, just a lady in a Sari. Maybe they had given up scooters, tonic suits and fry ups for expensive push bikes, beards and posh javas at the new cycling cafe nearby.

The splendid building below appeared pretty derelict from a distance. The Abbeydale Picture House dates from 1920. The original cinema closed in 1975 and was subsequently used as a furniture showroom and then a  snooker hall and bar. The building is listed and attempts were made to restore it by the 'Friends of the Abbey Dale Picturehouse' between 2003 and 2012, These 'friends' included Michael Palin and Peter Stringfellow, an alliance I am trying hard to imagine. According to wikipedia, in 2012 the venue hosted a stage version of Hi-De-Hi, an 80s sit com based on a Butlins-style holiday camp in the 50's. Later in the year the Friends went bust. Eventually the lease was acquired by the Sheffield based arts charity CADS which facilitates film screenings, music events and flea markets while restoration work and fundrasing continues to take place.

On the wall outside, a black fox. Not sure if a black fox is a similar portent to the Black Dog, or if this was some sort of warning sign or maybe a homage to a local beast? It turns out there are others painted on walls in and around Abbeydale Road. The artist and the motivation behind them appear to be a mystery, in the same vein as the 'Lewisham Natureman' White Stag in South East London or the Heron in Cambridge. Although in the latter case, the artist has spoken to the local press and has Facebook and Twitter accounts but attempts to keep  his identity hidden.

Further up we stopped in a vegan cafe for tea and cake. The cake selection was excellent, portions large and very reasonably priced. Fortunately we had finished when a woman came in and stated that ten of her friends would be turning up shortly, some with pushchairs and babies. The proprietor obligingly moved tables and chairs to accommodate their imminent arrival. The scraping of chairs on the floor and prospect of  the hubbub to come hastened our departure.

After a rummage round an impressive three story junk/vintage/antique emporium we took a right turn off Abbeydale Road with a vague intention to visit a vegan cafe for lunch, the name of which I can't remember but it had a good write up. It was too busy when we got there so we didn't bother. The nearby osteopath sported some novel advertising in the form of a skeleton, with what looked like immaculate bone structure and sporting some fine socks and a scarf.

A little further along, and up a bit of an incline, we passed these beehives in someones garden. I'm not sure if they were occupied or if Bob Marley and the Beatles have any association with bee keeping.

After this there is something of a gap in my photographic record. The beehives, and the pictures above are from, I think,  the area called Nether Edge. We were heading for the Botanic Gardens where we thought we'd have a rest but went slightly of course and found ourselves in the evidently very popular Endcliffe Park. Ecclesall Road, which  runs along the south east corner of the park had been on the original hit list from the guide. I can't recall why exactly and we didn't walk down much of it in the end but I suspect I might have been hoping for a crafty beer in the Portland House micro-pub. We never got there. Wards Brewery was located along the road until 1999 and is now the sight of luxury flats (really?!). The old sign still stands. We didn't get there either.

Endcliffe Park is bisected by the Porter Brook. The name derives from the brown colour the water takes on after passing over iron-ore deposits, making it resemble dark beer.  Porter Brook rang a distant bell and the park felt familiar. I was fairly sure this was the place I visited on the geography field trip where I thought I'd broke £1000 worth of river velocity reading equipment. We'd followed the brook (I think it was the Porter) from a tributary out in the sticks and eventually were dropped off in what I'm sure was Endcliffe Park for our final reading. My memory of the park the first time was of somewhere much smaller and quieter. This time it seemed large, noisy and busy with ice cream vans and people playing football. It was good to see people outside doing things.

After a meander through the park, we found ourselves in a part of town that seemed to be a University area, with large houses and places that looked like halls of residence. The environment didn't change until we reached the Botanic Garden. The garden features an impressive pavilion building. There was a wedding going on in it so we couldn't go in. The gardens were more like a normal park than the Cambridge Botanic Garden and unlike the Cambridge version,  free to get in.

We headed back towards the centre through Nether Edge (I think). At some point, just before we crossed the inner ring road we could hear loud dub step type music getting progressively louder as we approached. Id assumed we were about to encounter a  gig in a park. But on side road there was a party going on and the music seemed to be coming from somebody's house.

After crossing the ring road we made our way through what looked like an ex-industrial area  against a ride of football fans heading home after the game. Stokes Tiles and similar buildings appeared abandoned but it being Saturday it was hard to tell.

After passing back through The Moor we found ourselves in the other main city centre shopping street, the other side of the urban seaside we'd visited earlier. It appeared a Tardis had parked.

We found ourselves back near the Millennium Gallery, and passed through Millennium Square. I was taken with the building at the back of the photo below and wondered what it was. It turns out it's the Charles Street Car Park, or 'The Cheesegrater'. In 2013 it was named as the third coolest car park in the world. Here's all ten.  By then the 'Get Carter' car park in Trinity Square in Gateshead had been demolished so was out of the running for such accolades. It made way for a new Trinity Square development which includes a very large Tesco Extra, and was nominated for the 2014 Carbuncle Cup. The Millenium Square was much more pleasant than anywhere with a Tesco Metro and far from a carbuncle. I'm not often impressed with these sorts of developments, and while it had some of the same features as countless others (Pizza Express etc), there was something different about it. Maybe it was the calming effect of the water flowing over the 9 steel balls.

The balls represent steel industry heritage (steel, craftsmanship, water, stonework). They looked more gold coloured than steel to me. This may have been a figment of my imagination or faulty eyesight.

Just before the station we passed the vulture mural below. In the other direction, from the front of the station you can see Park Hill. I wondered if the vulture mural might be a swipe at the re-development/renovation/sticking up coloured plastic bits being carried out by Urban Splash.  Similar to what has happened to the Trellick Tower in East London, luxury and upmarket apartments are being created in a Brutalist development inspired by Le Corbusier and originally a council estate. These dwellings, and those who lived there, would have been derided in the not too distant past as a problem. But these days they are highly sought after. Maybe it's better than them being torn down completely. But it does bring the expression 'social cleansing' to mind. Architects For Social Housing (ASH) have quite a bit to say about that.

I would have liked to have had a wander around Park Hill but we had to catch the train and were knackered. It's reputation in the past was not good. A friend of mine at Uni planned to do some research for his dissertation there but his mum wouldn't let him. He told me of incidents where people had heavy items thrown/dropped on them from balconies. So back then I probably would have avoided it. Whether it was really that bad, I don't know. And maybe going there now for a wander round would  be an act of heritage tourism and an insult to those being decanted out when their homes are demolished.

We also never got to Kelham Island for a pint of Barnsley Bitter.