Wherever you go you will find the Union and St George’s flags, in front gardens on public facilities, on clothing or even in the middle of nowhere. Is it patriotism, pride, or maybe nostalgia for when Britain was considered *'great'.
Sunday, 31 July 2016
Saturday, 30 July 2016
When I was a kid we were pretty fearless, we had no real sense of danger. We used to freely the roam around the lanes, woods and village streets armed with sheath knives that would get you arrested today. What seemed like every other weekend we would go camping in the woods, what is now Birchwood estate. We would use axes, bow saws and various types of cleaver, unsupervised and mostly untrained. We made camp fires and cooked our own food. We climbed to the top of the tallest trees and dared each other to sway in the wind on the thinnest branches. We made Tarzan swings across dykes and tried to impress each other with how daring we could be. In winter we would lightly feel our way across the thin ice of frozen ponds seeing who could cross to other other side, I came a real cropper on that one and was sent to bed without tea. Most kids these days do not have much freedom to roam in the way that we did, to learn through trial and error. Society seems to have sanitised the childhood experience with health and safety, litigation and helicopter parent paranoia. I was heartened to come across at least a remnant of my past, out of sight of the playing field security camera.
Friday, 29 July 2016
1001 uses for an disused phone box. This phone box has been turned into an art gallery by kids. It exhibits fantasy images of fairies and animals cut from magazines and books. In the middle of nowhere it has to be the smallest public gallery anywhere. What a shame there’s no gift shop.
A sea of new cars standing in front of Killingholme oil refinery which will supply fuel throughout their lives. I’m not sure if the image needs text - it is what it is.
The flat surrounding countryside and villages are completely dominated by the oil refinery.
Apart from agriculture, Lincolnshire has very little industry left, Gainsborough and Lincoln used to produce heavy machinery on a large scale. Lincoln prides itself on being the birthplace of the tank. Scunthorpe Steelworks, which has been in decline for decades, Killingholme oil refinery and Siemens turbines are all that is left today.
It strikes me as quite sad that consumerism and fakery has replaced real civic pride in achievement with a nostalgic, rose tinted view of history. Gainsborough’s industrial history was marked by Marshals, from 1848 to 1992, who produced a variety of agricultural machinery from steam engines through to diesel tractors. Today the site of the factory is a shopping centre which retains some the original architectural features. In nostalgic celebration, on a roundabout, stands a fake plastic topiary sculpture of an agricultural steam engine, encircled by cars as though the past is under siege by progress. As with most story telling, truth is a combination of whatever the storyteller makes of it and how the viewer interprets it.