Archive for stapleton rd

::: stapleton rd – potted history

Posted in bs5 with tags , , , on December 10, 2010 by kochy

once a gateway community and the main route from bristol to gloucester

staged the siege of the old city wall by cromwell’s infantry in the 1600s and in the 1700s experienced growth around the coal mines supplying fuel to the growing brass, copper, glass, sugar, pottery and distilling industries

stapleton road had a turnpike gate erected to collect a toll from travellers to pay for repair to the roads

: the miners staged a rebellion and burned down the gates outside what is now the three blackbirds

baptist mills (on the edge of stapleton road) is viewed by many as the birthplace of the industrial revolution

at the beginning of the nineteenth century, 70 % of the local population were migrants who had moved to the area in search of work

the river frome was central to the growth of industry along stapleton road

to the annoyance of the church of england, most spiritual practice was within non-conformist churches

a wesleyan chapel was erected in 1837 only to be demolished in 1971 for the construction of the m32 roundabout

in the late 1880s, stapleton road was a shopping centre reputed to be one of the most varied shopping thoroughfares in the city

today, stapleton road is still a community of migrants and entrepreneurs making it one of the most interesting and diverse shopping streets in bristol

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[o] climbing the wall (bristol 5)

Posted in bs5 with tags , , , , , , , , on December 9, 2010 by kochy

‘climbing the wall’, stapleton rd, bristol 5

originally uploaded by james koch

[o] disconboggan (bristol 5)

Posted in bs5 with tags , , , , , , , , , on December 7, 2010 by kochy

‘disconboggan’, stapleton rd, bs5

originally uploaded by james koch

easton promise (stapleton rd, bs5)

Posted in bs5 with tags , , , , , , , , on January 21, 2010 by kochy

6 meets 2. over junction 3 m32 – where c-3po and r2-d2 barbecue bumpers to a constant flow. meets 5: alive to the promise of morning sunbeams onto fresh laid snow.

having passed under and out, i turn to sit and face the mural wall. 

blue skies match, but the rolling white has mostly fallen all about. green fields: when were they?       

easton way on to stapleton. 

where a barber fills his door, fresh lit tab drawn deep between “maalin wanagsan!” and smile to friend crossing into sun across the street. i stop, we greet. i rest a while to hear him speak.  

ahead: a gathering at the stop, on the other side from these shadowed shops.

i can’t see clearly, i can’t make my shot – it’s just not clean (there’s always traffic in between). so i break, breathe, lean… and blink my eyes to change the scene.  

onwards along northern rd, with feet and thought numb from cold. 

such – when i hear a locomotive shoot the sky, smell jerk chicken wafting by and see dreads raise spliff and snowballs high – i rub my ears, nose, eyes and seek out shelter.       

and so: sat on rusty girder beneath the tracks, amongst the complicated beauty of an underpass; coach house lunch on lap and red stripe can in snowy cooler over grass…   

i know: this must all be a dream.   

thank you for reading don’t forget the sun. take care. k x       

 

juggle (stapleton rd, bs5)

Posted in bs5 with tags , , on December 10, 2009 by kochy

head lowered, i lean and rest. out of the glare to a temporary hush.

oh to leave those four walls – the screens, thoughts and routines that keep me in place. let’s fall: drop all.

an empty english orchard. soft pastel pips and horizontal stems. i catch the last apple, bite. 

slow steps over cement soft as sand; i feel two adjacent glasses and absorb the warmth in, behind and beyond the both. 

‘very sorry, not ready’ (the elderly chef), ‘just warming up, it’s been a long cold night. i will cook an oven bright for you’. an oven bright; a flavour hard to define.

birds corner and flowers sing; a braid of little voices, the scent of another place.

now the ride, as south wind clears a path – i open my eyes and rejoin myself at Ra’s side, sucked in by slipstream. we bounce in and out – invisible accidents/explosions – all over the glass and pavement. yes!

falling off, i open one last time to see her face. and then Ra was gone: over the sky, underneath the sea.

i turn to retrace my 31 steps… an hour had passed…

the cold, grey wind numbs my face and dulls my senses. i follow the lady as the sand turns back to hard, black cement. she is a juggler. with my return, so too am i.

thanks you for reading don’t forget the sun. take care. k x