Is Hull Really a 'Crap' Town? - Pt 1 The Ride to Hell
In 2003, a book was published called Crap Towns: The 50 Worst Places To Live In The UK. It wasn’t meant to be taken seriously, just a tongue-in-cheek look at some of the places that people regarded as dire. They weren’t all depressing run-down places that were still recovering from industrial decline either, because alongside them were boring Middle-England towns that had been in a state of slumber for so many years that they weren’t even considered for filming Midsomer Murders. It goes without saying that this book was right up my street, and it doesn’t take somebody with the brains of Stephen Hawking to work out that the town at the top the book’s list was Hull – or to give the town its correct name, Kingston-Upon-Hull.
So why isn’t it called Kingston-Upon-Humber? After all, it sits on the River Humber doesn’t it? Well, yes it does, but the settlement started out on the banks of the River Hull which flows into the Humber, and in the map below you can see the proximity of the city centre to the Rivers Hull and Humber. The featured image at the top of the page shows the River Hull just before it discharges into the Humber.
Up until I read the book, Hull hadn’t really registered much in my psyche, but five years later, the name cropped up again, but this time I had a vested interest, as the football team I support (Bristol City) were playing Hull at Wembley in a play-off final to decide who was to be promoted to the Premier League. I can’t tell you how much was at stake here, because the trophy cabinets of both clubs were practically empty – and whoever won, would not only get the reward of playing in the top tier of English football, but also a huge financial reward as well. It was a fantastic occasion – or it would have been if Hull hadn’t have won.
One of Hull’s top players was a man with the unfortunate name of Dean Windass, and as you can imagine he received plenty of stick from our fans, but he had the last laugh when he scored the only goal of the game – and Hull were promoted to the top flight of English football for the first time in their 104 year history.
Their euphoria was short-lived however, because although they managed to escape relegation by the skin of their teeth in the first season, they didn’t survive the second, and were back down in the championship playing us again. With the prospect of gaining some revenge, I bought a couple of tickets for me and the wife to travel up to Hull, not just to see the match, but to see if Hull really was a ‘crap’ town.
It was the week before Christmas and the train journey was supposed to take us 7 hours, but those of you who remember Chris Rea’s song The Road to Hell, might understand where I’m coming from when I say that The Ride to Hull wasn’t much different. As Chris comes from the North-East himself (Middlesbrough), it gives me an excuse to play this great song.
The journey looked ominous right from the start when it started snowing even before we left Paignton. An over-zealous ticket inspector that would have put a babushka in the KGB to shame didn’t help either when she started dishing out fines like confetti for absolutely no reason at all. If I had any doubts about making this journey in the first place, then they were confirmed when we were held up for over an hour near Weston-Super-Mare when a car was left dangling over the railway line after being involved in an accident.
Just as things were settling down, we were informed over the tannoy that the train was terminating at Birmingham New Street instead of travelling up to Edinburgh. As requested, we got off the train at New Street, only to find that it was continuing to Edinburgh after all, but by the time we got back on, somebody had grabbed our (reserved) seats and they weren’t budging either. To be fair, I think they had been shoved around too, but it meant that we were stuck in the doorway at the end of the train where there was another woman with the biggest suitcase I’ve ever seen. Like the gentleman I am, I located a couple of seats for my wife and this other woman and looked after the luggage, but at Derby I got reprimanded by the train manager for taking up too much space in the doorway, and was told in no uncertain terms to shift my carcass and the luggage with it. Apparently, there was plenty of room in coach B at the other end of the train, so I told my wife and her new friend what was happening. Somehow, I had this ridiculous notion that they would follow me up through the carriages – and perhaps, even give me a hand, but they were too busy nattering to worry about trivial things like that, and so I struggled up to coach B while they were chewing the fat down the other end of the train. By the time I got there, it was almost time to get off because we had to change at Sheffield. I then had to go back and get the pair of them because they would have still been chinwagging if I hadn’t: Apparently, this woman knew Kay’s sister, so I didn’t stand a chance really did I?
Of course, with all this malarky going on, we had missed our connection at Sheffield, but as it happened, we didn’t have too long to wait for another one. The bad news though was the heating wasn’t working, and when we arrived at Hull, it felt like we had just spent the last 1¼ hours on the Trans-Siberian Express, and I couldn’t help muttering to myself that “the City had better win tomorrow.”
At Hull Paragon station we were transported to our hotel by a cab driver who was a staunch Tigers (Hull) fan, and a composer of a multitude of songs which he insisted on singing. To be honest, it was the best part of the journey and it was all good fun. He dropped us off at the new Premier Inn where the reception, believe it or not, was on the 7th floor. Although I don’t think we asked for it, we had been allocated a room right at the top on the 11th floor which gave us a good view of the Humber, but which also had its drawbacks as well.
When I woke up the following morning, my travel alarm clock told me that it was 6.45, and even though I wasn’t quite ready to get up, I knew I should, because there was a lot to cram in today. I put the kettle on and tried to sort out some of the debris I’d left behind from the previous evening, and then I noticed that my watch was telling me that it was only 5.55, and the clock was an hour fast. I was a bit annoyed with myself to start with, but at least I now had a leisurely start to the day – or so I thought. Within a few minutes the fire alarm was going off and the next thing I remember was that I was rushing around like Basil Fawlty.
Kay, who was still fast asleep, was out the door before me, and after rushing down 11 flights of stairs, we made it to the fire assembly point safe from harm – but with our heads absolutely spinning: To make matters worse, the temperature outside was -8° C, and we all had hardly any clothes on. Fortunately, the fire brigade were quick off the mark, but even so, it took them a fair while before they were satisfied that it was safe to go back in. We then had to walk back up 11 flights of stairs as we weren’t allowed to use the lifts. By the time we got back to our room I was suffering from frostbite and ready to jump back into bed, but that wasn’t going to happen, because the fire alarm only immediately went off again.
As much as we wanted it to be another false alarm, we couldn’t take the chance, and so off we went down 11 flights of stairs once again. Apparently, the alarm going off was down to somebody sneaking out for a fag in the corridor. As I pointed out to the night manager, there may not have been a fire, but the stairs nearly bloody killed me. I swear, that if the fire alarm had gone off again and there was a real fire, I would have been quite happy to let the smoke and flames take me down to meet the devil in hell itself.
I haven’t covered everything that happened to us on the journey north, but I think that’s enough for now, and in Pt 2 we get down to the serious business of exploring Hull to find out what the city is really like – and of course, there’s also a football match to go to.
POSTED – SEPTEMBER 2023
Originally posted 2023-09-10 08:33:43.
Nice view, but bloody hell, Malc!
LOL. Those stairs were not one for your Monday walks Jo 🙂
Wow, that really sounds like the Road to Hell/Hull! Great song by the way, but my Geordie husband would dispute Hull being in the North East – he claims anywhere south of Sunderland is south and I’m not sure he’d even accept ‘Boro being there 😆 Looking forward to part two …
LOL. I hope Pt 2 doesn’t disappoint. I’ve always enjoyed going to places where other people tend to steer clear of, and you probably know why.
Very amusing thought not a great start to your trip to Hell, whoops Hull. Looking forward to the next installment but your evacuation of the hotel reminded me of my forced evacuation of a swimming complex in NI due to a bomb scare .. We were not allowed back to the changing rooms so I and others were standing on a sports field, wet, in swimming attire and in approx zero degrees C temps for about half an hour till blankets were provided.. just before my brother arrived to pick me up.
I hope there wasn’t a bomb. You in your swimming trunks would have been enough to scare me 🙂
Lol. This one, unlike a few others I encountered, turned out to be a hoax.
Such a brilliant narration, dear Malc❣️❣️❣️❣️❣️
From the Queen of Literature, that means a lot as you will know. I hope it made you smile 🙂
👍🤗🤗🤗
That’s put a smile on my face too now 😊 😊
Oh Malc, your trip so far has been a bit of a farce, really, hasn’t it? Forgive me, but I chuckled my way through your trials and tribulations, so I’m grateful for the entertainment – I kept thinking this would make a great TV show along the lines of the Booze Cruise (have you ever seen it?). All that and your team didn’t win either – talk about insult to injury! 🙁
Why on Earth was the reception on the 7th floor? Are they mad? And as for the complete pillock that kept setting off the fire alarm and putting you both through a nightmare of yoyo exercising and frostbite, I think I’d have fed him his blasted cigarette!
I can only hope at least some things improved in Hull…
I’m afraid that the Booze Cruise passed me by Alli, but I’m assuming that it must have involved some slapstick in there somewhere. As for the football, yes, we did lose that important match at Wembley, but we have the chance for revenge which I’ll be talking about briefly in the next post.
It does seem a bit crackers to have the reception on the 7th floor doesn’t it? and as for that idiot having a crafty smoke, at least it enabled me to get my money back for that night’s stay. They should charge all the reimbursements to whoever it was if you ask me.
Like I said to someone else, I was in two minds whether to include the journey or not, but at least it gave you a bit of a laugh, which is what it was intended to do of course.
This is masterful, Malc. Even as a Yank, I see enough BBC to understand your telly references. Your snark ability is in very fine fettle. Please don’t wait too long for part 2, can’t handle the suspense. We’ll wonder what in the Hull you’ve been doing.
LOL Thanks Pat. I’ll do my best. I’m glad you enjoyed it though.
Definitely, Malc. 😉🤓
A phenomenal narration you have given us Malc, cheers. It sounded like a rather surreal night, hope your team won. Loved the pics and really enjoyed reading.
Thanks Francesc. I wasn’t going to include the journey, but then thought that some people might enjoy it.
Good that you did…
Cheers mate. Enjoy what remains of the weekend.
You’re welcome Malc and you too, have a peaceful Sunday evening and a restful night.
And here I was thinking that Windass wasn’t a real name. There’s a character in Coronation Street called Gary Windass, he’s been in it for a few years and I’ve always thought no-one could possibly have a ridiculous name like that.
You should be writing scripts for a sitcom, this would make a good one probably better than the drivel which is usually on tv 🙂 I’m now looking forward to part 2 of Malc’s Misadventures 🙂 🙂
I’ve never forgotten who scored that goal Eunice, that’s for sure, and regarding ‘Malc’s Misadventures’ there are still more to come 🙂
Firstly, Malc, a warning; you are in danger of being sued by my family for making me have a heart attack as I am
laughing so much! Almost every sentence is so funny that apart from my heart, you have destroyed my make-up, and mascara is running down face. The whole post, Malc, is a masterpiece of comedy and it should be read by suicidal or deeply unhappy people who would be restored to normality by your words!
All about Hull is memorable, and nothing is missing, except your face! Could we have the front of the hairy head, please?! After all you know what I look like. I am not asking for Kay’s photo because a long time ago, you wrote that she hates having her picture shown in your post, And, so you will have to do!
Waiting with bated breath, Malc, to reading your next masterpiece! I will use waterproof mascara!
Joanna
Ah! Thank you Joanna. You’ve brightened my morning up too with your wonderful response. I’ll see if I can include another picture of me at some point, but I’m not a great one for having my picture taken, but I’ll see what I can do. It’s put a smile on my face though knowing that I’ve put a smile on yours 🙂
Thank you, Malc! I am looking forward to your next post!
Joanna
We once took the ferry from the Netherlands to Hull and back. But this was thirty-some years ago, and I don’t remember much about it.
Did you spend any time there or were you just passing through Don?
I don’t think we spent much time in Hull. I remember queuing for hours to get into some underground Viking remains in York, and then leaving our two younger children at a summer camp in Harrogate.
York and Harrogate would have obviously figured higher on your list than Hull in that case.
I’m not sure we even had a list. The ferry crossings were fine, disembarking in Hull went smoothly, and we stopped in York because it was on the way to Harrogate. The children enjoyed their camp, apparently, and in the meantime we drove up to Scotland to visit the Clan Cameron Museum in Achnacarry.
Have you got Scottish blood then?
Yes, 1/4. But several generations lived in Canada due to the Highland Clearances.
Thanks for that Don.