In October we moved into our new home, close to Exeter city centre. We’re about two minutes walk from Fore Street, which goes up to the main high street. All quiet on a Sunday morning.
Swinging through 180 degrees, at this junction Fore Street becomes New Bridge Street. Perpendicular to this the streets follow the line of the old city wall which dates back to Roman times. Indeed many of the buildings, like our own house, sit on top of it.
As you can see New Bridge St is flanked by handsome but fairly modest four-storey buildings with shop units at ground floor level.
Although at no. 34 there is a rather grand doorway, slightly out of keeping with the rest of the building.
Just opposite no. 34 you can see that you’re on a bridge. You can look down to the leat that served the mills on the Exe, outside the city walls.
A little further and it’s clear you are on a bridge, this time over the inner bypass. There are stairs down on your right.
When you reach the bottom of the stairs you look back and understand that what you thought were four storey buildings were actually more like seven or eight. You’ve been walking along halfway up them.
And just behind them is a rather grand building, now a plumber’s merchants but once the Mission Hall, where the poor and destitute could get a farthing breakfast or a penny dinner.
The grand entrance is to the side of the hall and you can’t quite get far enough away to get it all in a photo.
You can walk up the alley between the buildings on New Bridge Street and the Mission Hall…
…where you will find that leat we saw earlier from above disappearing under the buildings.
But what of that curious bridge linking the Mission Hall to the New Bridge Street buildings?
Well, you remember that doorway at no. 34? That was the entrance from New Bridge Street. And it was known as ‘coffin way’, because that was how they were brought in and out.
A few people mentioned getting their first tattoo done here. A shop so narrow they do one shoulder, you walk out, face the other way, and shuffle back in so they can do the other shoulder.
And I guess the reason it’s called New Bridge Street is because it’s right next to the old bridge. I’m standing on the new bridge.
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A few years ago I took a series of photos around my house, close ups of the edge of a table or a door frame. Somehow, without a marker of scale, they evoked the huge skies, acute perspective lines and flat horizons of my native East Anglia. I called them Tiny Horizons.
Now I live in a new house so I’m starting to take some more. I’ve cropped them square and rotated them as I see fit, but there’s no other manipulation. I’ll add new ones to this thread. #TinyHorizons
I’m saying this because I can see lots more people liking it than retweeting it. A like signifies "l approve of this but I’m not going to share it with my followers".
Yes, I know some people have their settings so they see some random likes. But the retweet is for sharing other people’s tweets. It’s pretty basic.
My 17yo just came into my room with a joke he’s made up.
“If we let children go on waterslides they’re just going to want to spend all their time on waterslides”.
He looked quite pleased with himself, and rightly so, I’d say.
Come on, don’t tell me you need me to explain it to you.
I like it because it fits into that category of jokes that I consider a funny puzzle. You have to work it out and then the penny drops. Hint for those who are struggling: how else would you describe a waterslide?