Posted on

Nottingham 3 – The university, a tram journey and leaving

Friday, 20 May, 2022

The time had sped by. I’d been mostly sleepless overnight. The noise from the street was even heavier than the night before and when the sun started to rise in the morning there were still revelers slowly winding down their drunken, chatty, sing-y time out. I knew I was going to spend as much time resting before checking out as I could possibly wring out.

We made the unusual decision to go to the Wetherspoons pub across the road for a cheap breakfast. Before that I’d gone up to the top floor to see what Krish said was a rooftop restaurant – not there, just a short corridor filled with what I guessed were the fancier rooms. On the first floor, I checked to see what was on offer there. A lot of boring looking typical breakfast foods were sitting in their serving containers. Nothing to see here, so Wetherspoons it was. The pub is in a beautiful building called Lloyds, so a former bank? The inside was typical, quiet, vast and somewhat gloomy, We ordered our ‘American pancake breakfast’ – small for me, large for Krish. It arrived, the usual chewy-never-fluffy British take on an American pancake along with sausage for me, while Krish’s had sausages and eggs. Strangely, there was a layer of an attempt at streaky bacon in between my two pancakes. Amusing. But we were fed!

We looked about George Street, which had some interesting buildings and then I took some photos of the hotel, which itself has an interesting history as Nottingham’s oldest inn.

Viscosa House, George Street
Viscosa House – Krish wondered if it was Italian in some way – an ordinary building with some nice details. Now home to Attenborough Dental. Attenborough must be a Midlands name.


At the hotel, we continued to pack and check for stray items and took our case down for reception to store.

The last day of a trip is always an odd one. There are all the bits and pieces you haven’t seen yet, and the train journey is looming. We’ve had our share of almost missing those trains. Today was a day without much of a plan.

The plan we did have was to get a tram and bus pass and look about a bit further out. (This never happened.) Krish wanted to see the university campus and I wanted to see if we could see any signs of the original Boots building – Boots first store was in Nottingham and it was here that ibuprofen (originally Brufen) was developed by Dr Stewart Adams’ team in the late 50s, coming to stores in 1969 after several clinical trials. Boots had started as a herbalist on Goose Gate  (just by our hotel) in 1849. I’d not done the research so didn’t notice the building. Later Krish told me he had seen it there. No photos.

We walked over to the university, which proved to not be very far away. You don’t have to walk too far from the centre of town to find yourself in more open and residential territory.

The university was just after the shopping centre area and before the road widened. On the way I’d checked to see if there was a market but there was no sign of one, only a few stalls and vans scattered in the side streets. I wasn’t finding it easy to walk anymore so I said no to climbing the steps up to some of the higher street areas, and Krish said he wouldn’t go alone but stay with me instead.

At the tram stop was a university building called Boots Library. I got excited, thinking that they might have some historic stuff in there, then saw they had a roof garden. I asked the security guard if I needed ID to get in and he let me know that, because it was exam week, no one was allowed in. I asked if I could use the lift to see the roof garden, since it was located right at the entrance but he said no again, telling me to come back in a couple of weeks. So no go. Disappointing but I’m glad I tried.

My tram ticket for the day was a concession price of £3, for Krish it meant £1 for any short hop (covering the four or five stops in the city centre) journey so he decided on that option. I love trams and try to go on one in every city we arrive in. This one wasn’t as modern inside as it looked outside. It was like a Toronto streetcar, but not newest generation.



We took it to the last stop for short hop – one station too far, said Krish as we got out in a sparse residential area. The suburbs had already begun just one stop south of the station. With nothing much to see here, we turned back to the city in search of a seat for me, and lunch for both of us. To be honest, I was done and knew I didn’t have another step in me.

But there were several hundred more! Looking for a restaurant, we fell into the usual frustrating trap of not seeing one that pleased us both. I was ready for a pizza and a seat but Krish is dairy-phobic right now so that was out. We sat in a Chinese restaurant looking at an uninspiring menu, then left. We walked around the block and back again, settling for a very disappointing fish and chips between us. It was so bad but I had my seat and enjoyed the rest. I really didn’t care what we ate.

We had a little time before we needed to head to the station and I wanted to see Sneinton Market. There were signs pointing to it so I asked Krish to go find it and let me know if it was worth the hilly walk. He came back into view and waved me to come down the hill. The market is a small area of shops in two or three rows. It was very quiet. Two young women sat eating the mandatory avocado on toast outside a shop. I considered buying chocolate and then left without it, took a few photos and out of the market again. Not really worth it, not at that time of day at least.

Sneinton Market - deserted
Sneinton Market – deserted

Up the hill again, grab the suitcase, a quick hop into Sainsburys to get a drink and a snack for later, and then to the tram stop. I had my ticket already and Krish would get a short hop. I had a mental block when the tram arrived suddenly and went into Toronto mode thinking he could buy his ticket on the tram. In I went and, as the door closed behind me, noticed that Krish wasn’t with me but was at the ticket machine at the stop. A forehead slapping moment. Luckily his tram arrived just a couple of minutes after mine. There was a lift down to the station hall waiting area and we were about 20 minutes early. There were absolutely no seats available anywhere and Krish went off to explore the area promising to be back within 15 minutes. I was really relieved to see him about 10 minutes later. I’d had to stand the whole time and knew that Krish was often late for things. But all was fine, we got down to our train and were on our way home.


The journey to St Pancras went by quickly. On our way down the escalator I noticed a huge queue doubling back on itself right across the central hallway of the station. As we headed towards the exit and turned the corner, the queue continued gathering strength with at least one double-back. There were masses of people and my only guess what this was now how it looked when you take the Eurostar during Covid and Brexit. This was a really sobering thought. We’d travelled by Eurostar many times and never encountered more than a few people in the queue ahead of us. Mind boggling.

The bus was coming just as we reached the street, the easiest connection from Kings Cross that we’d ever made. From the bus to our Hackney stop, to the flat, a light dinner, a cup of tea or two and finally back to our own bed. Nottingham done!

Posted on

Nottingham 2 – Old friends and castles – A very full day

Thursday, 19 May, 2022

We’ve remarked since our Nottingham visit how the ‘Quarter’ system in Norwich and Colchester might not be so silly after all. Not for tourists, at any rate. Quarters, which although pretentious,  allowed us to explore areas in good-sized portions and kept us  organised. Nottingham seemed to have a large central and spreading core, surrounded by randomness. Yes, the map showed neighbourhoods, but they weren’t as cohesive as those other places. We weren’t as focussed as we, or at least I, wanted to be. I expect to find out I missed something super important or I actually see things I think I didn’t but I’ll focus on what I do remember seeing, for  now.

The full day of any trip is full indeed, as you will see.

As an afterthought I’ve done a map to help readers navigate.

The blue area was around the train station. Orange is the old area including the Lace Market. Yellow is Hockley, where our hotel was. Green is the city centre. Purple is the university and pink is the castle. Now we all know.

Thursday morning we talked briefly about breakfast and I decided that I’d get dressed while it was still early and go to any place that was open in the pedestrian street by the hotel for a sandwich type thing to bring back to the hotel. I chose Hockley Kitchen at the corner. They were just setting up and here I was to disturb their routine. I ordered a bagel (cream cheese and smoked salmon) then wondered which sandwich to get for Krish. So I ordered that too (his dairy-free life cross so many things off the list). This caused confusion – I paid a very reasonable sum at the till and waited at a seat where I could watch life outside. When my bag arrived only Krish’s sandwich was inside. Somehow, maybe because I was alone, they thought I’d changed my mind from the bagel to the sandwich. They hustled to make the bagel…hustled slowly. No fast food here. I thought then about how so far Nottingham folk weren’t the warm, chatty sort. My attempts at some idle chatter and humour were mostly wasted. I hope to have my mind changed some time.

This morning I was meeting an old work friend, Sue. We’d arranged it some time ago when Krish realised that Lincoln, where she lives, isn’t so far away from Nottingham. She was coming in for lunch and Krish had booked at Fletcher’s again. She messaged me earlier than expected that she was in town and I let her know that I’d get dressed and meet her. Krish would go solo exploring until lunch time.

Meet me at the lions, Sue said. It felt very Nottinghamy. Those lions! I have to say it was an easy task – straight down the gentle hill on the lower pedestrian street to the Old Market Square, where I sat at Leo’s feet and waited, watching people walk by and contemplating my new surroundings. This wasn’t London – no rushing about, no sense of urgency, a quieter form of chaos. Sue arrived and we walked around a few streets chatting until we found a good bench to sit at. I was in yet another shopping street, an older one. Sue told me I was in the less attractive side of town now, the bit that hadn’t been regenerated yet. It felt only slightly shabbier with perhaps fewer people.



To our left was a tunnel where Sue said we’d go to get to lunch. At this point I felt quite disoriented.  Surely the tunnel was leading away from where we needed to go. I questioned it but Sue said, yes, it was going the right way, while I decided to remember my poor orienteering skills and go where I was led. The tunnel had a security gate – airport style – at the entrance, and police officers standing by. Was something going on, we asked? Apparently not. We didn’t have to go through the gate at all – not suspicious enough, I suppose. Maybe this was football-related, we never did find out. The tunnel was of hoardings – a long diverting wooden structure, lined with childish but interesting paintings showing Nottingham’s history.


When we came out of the tunnel, our place on the map made more sense. We’d turned left to the tunnel and now we would be heading left again in the direction I hoped the college would be. Right beside us was a large modern Broadmarsh bus station and car park where Sue had parked earlier. It wasn’t until later I realised this was the same bus station we’d seen when we came out from the train the day before. The place is completely new and very modern and spacious. It’s not open yet but will be amazing when it is. I thought back to Victoria Bus Station, that seemed barely changed over the years. Something like this would be fantastic. Sue had already made friends with the security guard who told us the best way to get out of the mammoth building and on to Fletcher’s.


It was easy – out the door, straight ahead and we were already almost at Fletcher’s door. And we were early so sat in the sunshine chatting until Krish arrived – ten minutes late but finally there.

Fletcher’s experience was more relaxed than the evening before. We all had a good meal, chatting about old times and what’s next. I miss this sort of interaction with real humans. The pandemic had robbed me of that. My usual weekly meetings with friends and having people over and returning their visits seem distant. How to get them back? Sue hadn’t left yet and I already felt lonely.

Something about Fletcher’s. It’s a great idea to search out culinary school restaurants. You can’t do better really and I recommend it. I had a funny chat with one of the student chefs. On the walls were framed chef shirts signed by the chefs who had visited here. Pierre Marco White was one – and he had two shirts. The young chef was enthusiastic, telling me that this was the chef he most wanted to meet and emulate. His eyes were shining. He told me that on his shirt PMW had signed ‘Hurry Cooling,’ which meant that you wanted the food to cool down so that you could eat it. I was amused – I am quite sure it read “Happy Cooking.” Which one of us was right?







Krish and I had noticed the church up on the hill and some older streets just before the restaurant so that was our next adventure.  This is Lace Market.  a historic quarter-mile square area. It was the centre of the world’s lace industry, now a protected heritage area. The streets here were interesting and we found some nice little passages and architectural details. Continue reading “Nottingham 2 – Old friends and castles – A very full day”