|
BtP was pleased to receive these pictures
of Guildford from Greg Panfile … it's good to see
the city's historic streets through fresh eyes. Nothing Procoholic on this page, except for Marvin of course: just some images captured a few minutes' walk away from BtP HQ at the top of the town … |
||||||||
These captions are written from a point of view of total local ignorance, and corrections will be gladly received. The building the pedestrian is passing is the Jarvis Hotel's Sports Bar, where much of the Procolesque revelry took place. |
 |
||||||||
|
Another view past the Jarvis
… note the extended pavement, part of a growing
trend towards 'pedestrianisation' in English towns. More of that curious statue later … |
||||||||
Marvin emerges from the Jarvis Hotel. Carry on a few yards and bear left, and you'd be at the Civic Hall where the Convention occurred. |
 |
||||||||
|
The same half-timbered building, viewed
from Jarvis's useful Meeting Room, from a bassist's
perspective. This junction was the scene of a protracted showdown between police and local youths on the Friday night. Sleep was quite impossible. |
||||||||
At the bottom of the town, where modern buildings jostle the Georgian frontages. Guildford is very hilly, as people who walked up from the Railway Station will remember. |
 |
||||||||
|
It's probably St George … certainly
it's the flag of St George, patron saint of England. He famously trounced the dragon, yet he seems to strike little terror into the heart of that pigeon. And why he appears to sport a plastic duck on his head is something iconographers have yet to reckon with. A taxi-driver said this hotel was called "White Horse" because of this statue: it was a name more familiar to him than "Jarvis"! |
||||||||
'Post' means quick, as in 'post-haste' … so a Posting House would be somewhere you could hire fast horses or transport. Eventually the word 'post' was applied to the fast transmission of mail (mail as in 'snail', of course) |
 |
||||||||
|
A hanging clock and an improbable belvedere: unusual even for Surrey | ||||||||
People high on a balcony, unaware that their antics merit photographic commemoration. I prefer the natural brick to all this whitewash, but perhaps it's really the contrast that is the appealing factor. |
|
||||||||
|
Classicism at its most English, if not
Englishness at its most classical. The absence of graffiti is notable, and remarkable. These columns wouldn't remain immaculate for five minutes in some nearby cities … |
||||||||
Some nice Georgian bay frontages ('oriel windows', a correspondent alleges); a good view of the cobbled street too |
 |
||||||||
|
Bell-gables … looking rather Dutch
… and rather more Germanic cupolas. This is possibly the Royal Grammar School but I ain't sure. I didn't get out as much as Greg did! |
||||||||
In the North of England this would be called a 'snicket'; a bit further down the word is 'ginnel' or 'jennel'. We guess that as far south as Surrey it's probably just an alley-way … |
 |
||||||||
|
Something a bit Dutch-looking about this ornate front too. 'The Three Pigeons' is not an unusual inn-name ... | ||||||||
Street-furniture: to the left, litter bins; to the right, a parking-permit dispenser. Elsewhere, flower-baskets on poles. Dead posh in fact. But nowhere in this green and pleasant Don't eat green meat … |
 |
||||||||
