HOOKED 9.11.11© Don Read
Householders living on Holme Rd, Lady Bay, have the advantage of sharing a huge front garden known as the Hook. Numerous acres of common land, green, well cared for, mowed by the council, and ideal for walking the dog, strolling down to the Trent, accessing the National Water Sports Centre on foot or cycle by way of a well paved towpath.
There has to be something to moan about and the edifice that blights the land across the Trent is just that. A leviathan eight story block of flats, a veritable concrete ocean liner permanently at anchor. A repository for the rich obscuring the view of greenery that once was. Sven occupied the top right hand penthouse for a while and football fans would congregate on our side and wave hoping to get a return acknowledgement and a couple of free tickets for Forest’s next match.
WE moved from Salford to Nottingham in 1973. My wife and three small children. Susan, my wife is a Nottingham girl, Radford to be exact. I hail from Bradford so we sound like a double act. “Ladies and gentleman, here they are your friends and their-Radford and Bradford”. Well perhaps not.
We were lucky to acquire a four bedroom detached house on Holme Rd. with a terrific “front garden”. A great place for the children to play, in fact there is a play area at one end of the Hook. The rest is common land and a veritable dog’s toilet. Fortunately most owners are equipped with a supermarket plastic bag in which to gather up their animal’s small deposits which are then suitably deposited in the bin provided.
I used to cycle along the towpath to the National Water Sports Centre, do a circuit and be home in time for breakfast. Not any more. Nowadays I stroll across the field to my favourite bench in time to catch the afternoon play on radio 4 on my bargain pocket wireless from the Poundshop. Yes, they really do work !
More often than not my concentration is interrupted by a doggie walker anxious to chat. I loose the thread of the play and turn to my fantasies about the destruction of the eight story “ocean line” before my eyes. Perhaps it will one day shed its mooring, flop down into the Trent and sail majestically up to Newark.
My other recurring thoughts turn to an image of a runway on the Hook. Some young, thrusting entrepreneur would buy a redundant Ryanair aircraft and run hourly flights to Keyworth, via Bingham and Cotgrave.
There are annual events that impinge on our tranquility. The marathon brings a trail of bedraggled, runners along Holme Rd. bound for the NWSC and back along the town path. A Zip wire event has young folk hoisted to the top of a cherry picker by the flats. They are harnessed and let loose to zip across the Trent and land safely on our “front garden”. This could be extended to zip folk from Daleside Rd over to Central Avenue for a weekly shop,
A posse of horse riding folk from the two neighbouring stables have created well trodden paths criss crossing part of the Hook allowing walkers access to the towpath at various points. Canal boats, canoeist, joggers all form part of the scene.
A daily early morning sight is the steady parade of hi-viz jacketed, helmet wearing cyclists enter stage right and pedal their sox off en route to workplaces far beyond. From where they emanate I know not.They disappear from view as they exit stage left in front of the Forest training ground which once echoed to the bellowing of Saint Brian Clough.
A dedicated group of local Ladybayers formed themselves into FIELDS, a conservation team, to preserve the Hook from deterioration. They planted trees and litter pick periodically. The Hook is now a Nature Reserve.
Oh, yes. I forgot the pleasure steamers that ferry passengers up and down the Trent. Three are moored directly opposite our home and occasionally have music in an effort to recreate the ambiance of the Mississippi but it’s the wrong sort of music.
I am hooked on the Hook. Must hurry. Got to catch the two-thirty flight to Bingham !
Householders living on Holme Rd, Lady Bay, have the advantage of sharing a huge front garden known as the Hook. Numerous acres of common land, green, well cared for, mowed by the council, and ideal for walking the dog, strolling down to the Trent, accessing the National Water Sports Centre on foot or cycle by way of a well paved towpath.
There has to be something to moan about and the edifice that blights the land across the Trent is just that. A leviathan eight story block of flats, a veritable concrete ocean liner permanently at anchor. A repository for the rich obscuring the view of greenery that once was. Sven occupied the top right hand penthouse for a while and football fans would congregate on our side and wave hoping to get a return acknowledgement and a couple of free tickets for Forest’s next match.
WE moved from Salford to Nottingham in 1973. My wife and three small children. Susan, my wife is a Nottingham girl, Radford to be exact. I hail from Bradford so we sound like a double act. “Ladies and gentleman, here they are your friends and their-Radford and Bradford”. Well perhaps not.
We were lucky to acquire a four bedroom detached house on Holme Rd. with a terrific “front garden”. A great place for the children to play, in fact there is a play area at one end of the Hook. The rest is common land and a veritable dog’s toilet. Fortunately most owners are equipped with a supermarket plastic bag in which to gather up their animal’s small deposits which are then suitably deposited in the bin provided.
I used to cycle along the towpath to the National Water Sports Centre, do a circuit and be home in time for breakfast. Not any more. Nowadays I stroll across the field to my favourite bench in time to catch the afternoon play on radio 4 on my bargain pocket wireless from the Poundshop. Yes, they really do work !
More often than not my concentration is interrupted by a doggie walker anxious to chat. I loose the thread of the play and turn to my fantasies about the destruction of the eight story “ocean line” before my eyes. Perhaps it will one day shed its mooring, flop down into the Trent and sail majestically up to Newark.
My other recurring thoughts turn to an image of a runway on the Hook. Some young, thrusting entrepreneur would buy a redundant Ryanair aircraft and run hourly flights to Keyworth, via Bingham and Cotgrave.
There are annual events that impinge on our tranquility. The marathon brings a trail of bedraggled, runners along Holme Rd. bound for the NWSC and back along the town path. A Zip wire event has young folk hoisted to the top of a cherry picker by the flats. They are harnessed and let loose to zip across the Trent and land safely on our “front garden”. This could be extended to zip folk from Daleside Rd over to Central Avenue for a weekly shop,
A posse of horse riding folk from the two neighbouring stables have created well trodden paths criss crossing part of the Hook allowing walkers access to the towpath at various points. Canal boats, canoeist, joggers all form part of the scene.
A daily early morning sight is the steady parade of hi-viz jacketed, helmet wearing cyclists enter stage right and pedal their sox off en route to workplaces far beyond. From where they emanate I know not.They disappear from view as they exit stage left in front of the Forest training ground which once echoed to the bellowing of Saint Brian Clough.
A dedicated group of local Ladybayers formed themselves into FIELDS, a conservation team, to preserve the Hook from deterioration. They planted trees and litter pick periodically. The Hook is now a Nature Reserve.
Oh, yes. I forgot the pleasure steamers that ferry passengers up and down the Trent. Three are moored directly opposite our home and occasionally have music in an effort to recreate the ambiance of the Mississippi but it’s the wrong sort of music.
I am hooked on the Hook. Must hurry. Got to catch the two-thirty flight to Bingham !
