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. The church up on the hill turned out to be converted to a Pitcher & Piano, a chain restaurant. This didn’t surprise me too much. Here in Nottingham anything goes for a conversion.
Did you spot Rupert Bear? It was my biggest smile of the day. I honestly have no clue what almost all the buildings are. I think this area could use 2 or 3 days of exploring and several of research, since the history dates back to mediaeval times. The church, St Mary’s in the Lace Market (or St Mary the Virgin), would be a good few hours of work – it dates from 1377 – and is one of only a few Grade 1 listed buildings in the city and the largest mediaeval building there.
As well, notice Middle Pavement? There were other names like this in the city, some of the original streets: Low Pavement, High Pavement, Middle Hill, Broadmarsh (neighbouring Narrow Marsh, now Red Lion Lane)… We left High Pavement and headed up Stoney Street towards our hotel. This juxtaposition of street names amused us. Little things. I was really weary but the streets were great and very industrial.
Time for a rest.
Our plan for the evening was to take a look at the castle and then have dinner in the same area. After a full lunch, a bowl of pho seemed like a nice light and predictable evening meal and Krish had researched one very close to the castle. We headed straight there, and it is pretty much that – straight. We reached a fairly small but busy highway, too modern to be called Maid Marion Way.
Just up a hill and the castle gate, which looked like a squat turret, was on our left. The door was closed – too late to visit – and from where we stood the castle wasn’t visible. On the other side of the street, a couple of pubs were packed with people inside and out. On the green in front we found plaques and statues, including the Robin Head statue that was marked on the map. The statue took me by surprise. Robin himself wasn’t anything like the screen actors who’d played him – all of them masculine and grown up. This Robin looked young and ordinary. Well, why not? Incredible that I left Nottingham the next day having not seen that infamous castle. It loomed briefly as our train left the station — too briefly to grab a last-minute shot of it. Next time, next time…
A short version of Nottingham Castle’s history: William the Conqueror ordered the castle to be built in 1068 to strengthen Norman power over central and northern England. Since then it’s been destroyed and rebuilt many times. By 1330, Nottingham Castle was a royal palace. It had a secret cave route that featured in many scandalous stories. During the Industrial Revolution Nottingham became poverty-ridden and filled with slums and brutal factories. In 1831, rioters torched the Castle after the Duke of Newcastle tried to stop the extension of the right to vote. It remained in ruins for half a century and was eventually rebuilt in its current form and reopened as the first municipal art gallery outside London for all the people of Nottingham to enjoy. And Robin Hood? No one knows if he ever existed but there are legends dating back to the 13th or 14th century. Whether or not he was ever a real person, he still stands as a rebel against tyranny, one of Britain’s most loved heroes.
We did walk around a little bit more on our way to the restaurant. There were some old cottages there. My legs were giving out and I knew I couldn’t consider looking for Ye Old Trip to Jerusalem, which I’d read about and is the oldest inn in England, was just on the other side of the castle, but it just wasn’t going to happen. I assume the caves mentioned within the pub are the same ones that are under the castle. Nor would I get to visit any of the caves in cave-centric Nottingham, not with my legs and Krish’s cave phobia. I’ll just check them out online instead.
I have absolutely no doubt that these streets are crammed with historical buildings, events and facts. This is another area that deserves far more exploration. I’m surprised that I didn’t take many photos but I had reached that saturated level – my body and brain a bit too loaded to act on impulse.
But we were hungry and tired and Pho 80s was close by. The restaurant was highly rated. It looked ordinary enough from the outside – large, modern and bright. We sat near the attractive kitchen area, were a bit thrown aback by the prices, had a couple of dishes (proclaimed them OK, loved the spring rolls) between us and left for bed.
