#hulllife

My first stop was the Tourist Info’ point in Paragon Station; I wanted a couple of souvenir maps so that I might frame them back to back. I was then encouraged by the lovely City of Culture volunteers to take a whole bunch and hand them out on their behalf as I ventured through the Medieval streets of Hull... Of course I agreed and off I went.

The problem I encountered was that it seemed nobody wanted to be approached by some fat woman dressed for the 14th Century. . . 

“Can I interest you in a Lord Mayor’s. . . . .” was almost immediately greeted with “NO!” or “Not interested. . . “ as the pedestrian shoppers were probably so hardened against having to fork out for various charities and vendors wanting cash from anyone who would listen.

“Let’s do this right!” I thought. “The first word I use should be ‘Free’“. I also decided to exert my natural exhibitionist nature and adopt Medieval Cornish to best promote the event.

“Free Novelty Souvenir Map for Tha Lord Murr’s Day?” I began to beam at the passer’s by in my thick stereotypical peasant accent. This worked a treat and within ten minutes I had just two maps left which I then popped into my bag to hoard away at home. 

Now, on with the celebrations!

First up, and to my sheer joy, was this chap - a Bard playing one of my favourite Medieval instruments: The Hurdy Gurdy!

In fact, the first real-life Hurdy Gurdy I’ve ever seen!!! (Readers who followed my old career as a Sims 3 modder will understand the heartache I had at trying to recreate one of these from a guitar and the eventual rapture I felt at seeing my Sim play one in the 15th Century unique game I had previously created.)

Had a little chat with this emerald-robed musician about his HG and how he’d acquired it, but there was so much to do and see, and I knew I had a schedule to keep if I wanted to make the parade for 12.30.

(A Medieval ‘Thrower’ who was very knowledgeable about his craft, I listened to his speech all about the history of pottery, serfdom and how the word ‘Factory’ came about because of a tax-evasion system built to shroud manual labour behind the veil of producing ‘facts’. Who knew?!)

The effort put in to create realism was a little overwhelming, and I soon felt wholly inadequate in my e-bay-cheap-one-size-fits-all fancy dress outfit which I’d previously felt chuffed with, having sniffed it out from a charity shop for just £3.

(Andrew Marvell admiring the passers by)

Regardless, I was ready to enjoy the day and headed off to ‘Bean’ for a soda before making my way to the Albermarle Music Centre to see my friend Nic who had a stall running inside to sell his Gothic wares. There was lots happening inside the music hall and I was immediately interested in a singing group that were taking centre stage.

I do love singing (despite being constantly told as a child  ‘Shut up - you’re tone deaf!”) and began joining in myself with the instructor’s directions. I was quickly invited into the circle and became a temporary ‘Saturday Singer’. We then performed folk songs from the continent of Africa as well as an unplanned version of Bohemian Rhapsody. I then said my farewells and made my promise to attend future classes before heading back out through the music centre en-route for the parade, but there was so much going on; so much to get involved with!

I wasn’t too keen on ‘Beatboxing’ but I knew I wanted a go on one of those steel drums and joined the band for a quick lesson.

With the typical British weather now displaying its usual enthusiasm for the Yorkshire Rain Gods, I thanked the Steel Drum Band teacher and hurried off to join the parade - it was now almost 12.15!

I joined the Mayor’s ensemble and was lucky enough to find myself accidentally situated next to a musical troupe. How perfect that I’d brought along my trusty tambourine!? The procession thus established, I now became the backing singer and dancer for these fine musicians and hopped and skipped my way along to their groovy modern-day parade beats.

The tour ended in Queen Victoria’s Square and finally I had a chance to catch up with my old buddy and Lord Mayor, or as I now greeted him with a bow, as ‘Your Excellency’.

We had a little chat, and then as I was stood around thinking ‘what now?’, I heard my name being called out.

“Oh wow! Hi!” I exclaimed, as I saw to my amazement my old English teacher, Mr Leronimo!

“What are you dressed as?” I asked.

“A Hull City Council member. . . . .” was his roundabout reply. Again, who knew? 

And that was the end of my eventful day.

I sat on the City Hall steps eating my packed lunch and watched the stilt-walkers ignore their tired feet before eventually hobbling home myself.