Sign in doorway of Neary’s, Clifton, 4 May 2020

It has been a while, hasn’t it.

Back in May, so many months ago, I took the photo above,  a sign in the doorway of Neary’s in Clifton. Though in its focus on social distancing guidelines it was like so many other signs in so many other shop doorways, I appreciated the added note: “Hopefully ‘normal’ life will resume soon”.

It still hasn’t — six months on and it’s all looking weirder than ever in many respects.

But after some (many) months silence I think that this online offering of mine should attempt to connect back to the “normal”, in some way. Or at least record some notes on some of the non-normal/new normal aspects of this strange year.

To start with, I want to record a few notes on something I’ve noticed in particular – familiar sounds, and how I’ve missed them.

In the past, every now and then (like in this review of the year in 2013, and 2012), I’d try to record the York I knew in audio, rather than words and photos. Familiar sounds (and smells) are of course an important part of our sense of place, but perhaps it’s only when they’re absent that we realise their importance.

In recent months I’ve missed the sound of the crowds from Bootham Crescent. Quite impressive when in good voice, when things are going well. Instead, in recent months, cut-out faces on the silent seats.

I’ve particularly missed hearing the sound of the Minster bells, the practices on Tuesday evenings. (And I’ve been reminded that it’s four years since the well-publicised problems, written about here on York Stories at the time, which also led to a long spell of silence.)

On the other hand, in the silence of the period we called lockdown — now “the first lockdown” — I started to notice more and more the Minster’s clock chime bells indicating each quarter-hour, and the chiming on the hour, Great Peter striking the hour. On still quiet days the sound reaches quite some distance.

During that strange quiet time I often made a point, at some hour of the day, of standing by the back door and really listening to the deep far-reaching sound of Great Peter, and took a few moments in that time to think about all the people in their homes across the city, and beyond, and what their experiences of this strange time might be. And reflected on how much I appreciated that regular and reassuring sound, from the Minster, and that it remains there in the centre of this place, and all the difficult times it has stood through.

In the fine weather we had during the first lockdown I was out in the garden a lot, and out there was particularly aware of the quiet. Trying to work out what it was that was absent, in particular, from the soundscape. Traffic, partly. The faint sound of children playing in the playground at the local school. People walking by, chatting normally. I like quiet, and calm, but at times early on in that first lockdown time it was too quiet even for me. Like there was a general stunned silence in the neighbourhood, and beyond.

Breaking the silence, one warm and sunny morning, the sound of a young girl’s voice, as she passed by with her parents: “I’ve been waiting for this weather for ages. Isn’t it lovely?”, and the sound of her small quick steps on the pavement as she passed. Then silence again. She was right, it was lovely weather for a time, and I’m sure many of us tried our best to appreciate this and other blessings, when we could.

Months on, there’s still no crowd sound from Bootham Crescent, and no peals of happy Minster bells, just the clock bells, marking all the quarter hours, half hours, hours, as we continue to have new rules to live by, and do our best to find our ways through it all.

A bit too cold now to be outside so much. But when the colder weather came, a robin in the garden began to sing the beautiful uplifting song robins always sing when the colder season comes and the daylight hours shorten. Perhaps the same robin I’ve often heard singing by a streetlight in previous years, in the winter cold, bringing hope and comfort.

Many other robins sing, from the branches of tall trees, throughout the city, and beyond. I hope a robin is singing where you are, dear readers. And my apologies that I couldn’t find my own voice for some time, through recent months.

The post Sounds, and silence appeared first on York Stories.

I hope to see some later today. I’ve left it a bit late to mention, as I’ve only just found out about it myself, but Ebor Morris are as I write walking round the walls and dancing at various points en route. And drinking beer at various points too, judging by this fabulous sketch (PDF) on their website.

There’s more info on that map, and on their events page, and also on the Press website, which contains a comment that made me smile, from member Tony Fenech:

“The traditional thing to do is get up at the crack of dawn and go out into the hills. We tried that once and didn’t like it”

If you miss it today, their events page also says they’ll be performing in King’s Square on Monday evenings beginning later this month.

If you can’t get to any of that, here’s a couple of snippets of how it sounded last springtime. Have a listen, it’s very cheering.

Apologies for the poor quality, but these were recorded on my phone.

Springtime is also of course about everything greening up and burgeoning and blossoming. As previously mentioned, I found to my distress that the beautiful trees near the walls by the Minster have been removed. A couple of weeks ago I cycled through Clifton Park in search of proper unmolested trees, remembered trees. Still there.

Copper beech, Clifton Park, 18 April 2014

And on the road back, horse chestnut trees. Hurrah for their green loveliness.

Horse chestnut tree, Clifton Park, 18 April 2014

Inside the walls we’re chopping down trees at a depressing rate, but beyond the walls are many beautiful green places, looking their best just now. See links below, and get out there and enjoy them, if you’re not already.

This time of year I always think of Thomas Hardy’s Tess of the d’Urbervilles, its descriptions of the natural world and its lushness at this time of the year, as spring moves towards the summer solstice. Many years ago I knew it so well I could have quoted large chunks of it, memorised for my A’level exams. Now, thankfully, I have Google, and the Project Gutenberg e-text:

“A particularly fine spring came round, and the stir of germination was almost audible in the buds; it moved her, as it moved the wild animals, and made her passionate to go.”

“On a thyme-scented, bird-hatching morning in May”

“Either the change in the quality of the air from heavy to light, or the sense of being amid new scenes where there were no invidious eyes upon her, sent up her spirits wonderfully. Her hopes mingled with the sunshine in an ideal photosphere which surrounded her as she bounded along against the soft south wind. She heard a pleasant voice in every breeze, and in every bird’s note seemed to lurk a joy.”

“The irresistible, universal, automatic tendency to find sweet pleasure somewhere, which pervades all life, from the meanest to the highest”

So, as the leaves green up and there’s dancing in the streets, I hope you all find joy and pleasure somewhere.

It’s best found in green places, and here’s a handy list, compiled by Mick Phythian:

Index to websites on York’s green places

See also: the Friends of Rawcliffe Meadows website

And a few photos from this time last year, on this site: Unfurling leaves and blossoming branches

The post Morris dancing and green places beckoning: York in May appeared first on York Stories.

Taking photos and gathering snippets of sound, near the Minster, 16 May 2013

I write about this place, I take photos of it, and every now and then I feel inspired to record its sounds. Recording on a (rather old) mobile phone, that being the thing I have to hand.

Some sound snippets from this year, at various locations, including the Minster. Lo-tech, documentary type things. (‘Never mind the quality, feel the authenticity’ should perhaps be the slogan.)

(If the above embed doesn’t show try this link)

These sounds are:

Bootham Crescent, evening, 6 August 2013, York City fans singing …

Morning, 16 May, near the Minster, with birdsong and voices …

Evening in King’s Square, 19 June 2013, morris dancing …

21 June, summer solstice, standing at the top of Bachelor Hill, in Acomb, my Acomb. Birdsong and motorbikes …

17 Dec & 21 Dec, city centre sounds, late afternoon, Low Petergate, city centre, Christmas shoppers, music from the Christmas Angels shop doorway, and buskers …

21 Dec, winter solstice, at dusk, on Paddy’s Pitch (across the river from the railway museum and York Station), robin singing, birds and a steam locomotive’s whistle and railway sounds …

21 Dec, by the Minster …

York City fans again, to sing us out. And another whistle from the loco by the NRM

More sounds

2012 snippets of sound, and other bits of York/Yorkshire audio

The post 2013 review: snippets of sound appeared first on York Stories.

Spring has been a long time coming. Here in the UK we’re particularly surprised when a bank holiday weekend is fine and sunshine-filled, as this one was.

At home:
The birds and bees were doing their springtime thing. Bees flying in through our open kitchen door, a blackbird singing for spring, from the garden wall:

(if you’re unable to see the embedded player … try this link instead)

Out and about:
Three sounds – (1) The riverside path by York’s Museum Gardens, a ?barrel organ? playing, with background birdsong (2) My footsteps, fleeing a busy city centre, along the alleyway at the bottom of Bootham Terrace, with background birdsong (3) Walking over pine cones on Strensall Common, later that afternoon.

(if you’re unable to see the embedded player … try this link instead)

All recorded on an old Sony Ericsson ‘dumbphone’. Because I could. And because sometimes words and pictures can’t properly capture the sense of place, with its background birdsong.

The post Audio angle, York, 6 May appeared first on York Stories.

I thought this was worth a go … as an alternative representation of 2012, through this resident’s eyes. Well, ears. Just for a change.

Recorded clips from my mobile phone, at various places on the streets of York, this year. It’s not in the slightest bit hi-tech. But anyway, this is proper York. The bits this citizen wanted to record, this year, 2012. Notes below on what you’re hearing, as it’s perhaps not immediately obvious …

If the embedded player isn’t showing above, try this link.

A chorus of geese honking to greet the spring, by the River Foss. 26 March 2012

Machinery demolishing parts of the Terry’s factory site. 29 March 2012

York City FC victory parade. St Helen’s Square. 21 May 2012

York Waits playing, part of the mayor-making procession. Davygate/Parliament St, 24 May 2012

Minster bells ringing when the Olympic torch passed through York. Duncombe Place, 19 June 2012

Ebor Vox, choir and drummers. Parliament St/Coppergate. 9 July 2012

York Waits playing, procession for the York Mystery Plays on waggons. 12 August 2012

Minster bells, and an anonymous passer-by chatting to a friend, no particular occasion. Duncombe Place, walking down Petergate, to Bootham Bar. 30 October 2012

The post Sounds, York 2012 appeared first on York Stories.