Beeston Gems.

Been busy, lots to update you on, but until I have more time to do this properly I'll leave you with this little Beeston Gem.

Things you see on the streets of South Leeds:

a dad proudly showing his 6 year old son how to hold a cigarette properly.

Stay classy Beeston!

Demolition goes on - pictures.

This is the view from my window now. It looks as though the demolition is continuing. I did think these houses would be refurbished but a couple of weeks ago the last residents left and on Monday the diggers moved in.

On the upside it's really opening up the view (of the derelict Kwick Save), hopefully this means more sun in the summer. It is a shame that we couldn't get more houses refurbised and back into use. And I did think that more open space would mean less fly tipping as it would be easier to spot the scum bags that do it, but it just continues to get worse and no one seems to care.

Apologies for the quality of the photos, there used to be 4 houses here and soon a lovely view of the arse end of Dewsbury Road.

plumes of dust, all very apocolyptic.

bye bye

the landscape begins to open up.

More digger action

same thing, different picture.

A huge plume of black dust!! I believe these houses used soot to help build the internal lath and plaster walls so it's being released back into the atmosphere in what is no doubt a large carcegenic/asthma enducing cloud!

A bit closer

Updated view from my window

A beautiful skip and some water mains work.

but no derelict houses, well there are, but in the distance . . .  sort of . . . 

The houses in the background should be getting refurbished over the next few months.

The demolition is done for now. Hopefully I'll get more sun in the afternoon, when it starts emitting some springtime warmth that is.

So it's goodbye derelict houses, it all looks so much better, though perhaps that's because I didn't include the recently fly tipped fridge and all it's rotting contents that someone dumped half on the newly cleared ground and half on the pavement, nice.

(Not sure why the pics are so odd looking, I uploaded them from my phone. Will try and replace with better quality ones later)

One poor Beeston soul speaks for us all

Last night I looked out of my window to see this sad little message in the snow :-)

Happy New Year and the Phantom Gardener of old Beeston Town.

I know I’ve not posted for a while, I’m sure you’re all bereft. But I’ve entered final year Masters hell and only have thoughts of essays (yeaugh). However, some thoughts are better expressed than left to simmer so as my silence doesn’t mean that all has been quiet in my neck of the woods, I’ll update you. I’ve got new neighbours, who so far are behaving themselves. Demolition seems to have ground to a halt, which is disappointing and also having ripple like impacts on the occupied houses. (See update further down)

Fly tipping is increasing as is anti social behaviour. I’ll give you a recent lovely example. About 6 weeks (maybe 8 weeks) ago I heard fish wife like shrieking out in the street. As I may have previously mentioned I’m not adverse to people enjoying themselves within reason just don’t be inconsiderate and disgusting. A number of 'young ladies' were charging about the street, obviously under the influence and enjoying each other’s company. Now why they couldn’t do this inside is beyond me, but there you are I’m not pissed off my tits on cheap alcohol in the middle of my street on a Friday night, what would I know?

I had a weekend of studying ahead and wanted to be in bed at a reasonable time so I could get cracking on Saturday. As I went to bed I looked out of my bedroom window to see one of them dropping her leggings/tracksuit bottoms, whatever they were, in the middle of the street and screaming. They could barely stand so they obviously couldn’t make it all the way inside to alleviate their bladder discomfort. Pissing, or worse in the street is apparently hilarious, judging by their harpy like cackling, so I went down stairs opened my front door and said, “Alright ladies? Do you think it’s about time to turn the volume down now?”

“Of course!” they replied and promptly pulled up their knickers and popped back inside . . . . .

No they bloody well didn’t. “Aaaargggeeehhhhhhhhwwwaarrrrggghhh it’s FFFFFFrrriiiiiiiiiiddaaaaayyyy........foookin Friday   . . . . arrgh” and repeat at volume in your best pissed fat slag voice. So I asked again, nicely.

I’m not a confrontational person so I also explained that I’d asked them nicely and what they decided to do next would inform whether I made an official call or not. And off I popped back inside.

Things were quiet for 5 or 10 minutes, so I looked back out of my window to see one of the Cheltenham Ladies College Graduates copping a bare bottomed squat just by my gate and another thrusting her pasty arm through my gate to knock over my rose bushes. So I called the police.

Little shits. They’ve been quiet since then.

  

As well as an insight into the intellectual pursuits of teenagers on cider, curious things are afoot in my front yard. I’ve lived here for years and never had anyone interfere with my foliage before, so I was very upset when not long after the last community group meeting I woke up to find some of my plant pots smashed and kicked over, beer bottles broken on the ground and plants ripped up. Obviously this was the work of a drunken arsehole, so I swept it up and put it down to experience.

Not long after that, there was a repeat performance. More plants ripped up, pots moved and disturbed and pushed over. And again, shortly after that incident I left my house one morning to find my doorway blocked by all of my plant pots piled up against my front door. As I’m sure you can imagine my sides were just splitting with good natured humour. Oh what amusing scamps these little visitors were, I hope they don’t accidentally fall down my cellar well and hurt themselves, or accidentally pick up one of the cat turds I have to regularly remove from my greenery . . .sigh. I did report it to the police, but realistically I don’t expect them to prioritise the phantom gardener of old Beeston town, who has returned again, this time to create a pyramid of plant pots on my doorstep.

Anyway, I suspect the Mensa members from the street peeing incident might have something to do with the less creative activity in my front yard, given that I caught them red-handed and bare arsed interfering with my shrubbery.

And since I started this post just before New Year and am finishing it half way through January I am happy to say that the demolition is off and running again. Right opposite me in fact! I managed to film a bit, so if I can manage to embed a video I will show you the last moments of a back to back terrace. I was very impressed with the demolition guys, and now desperately want a digger. It was quite brutal and a bit like watching Godzilla destroy a building; there’s something quite anthropomorphic about diggers and how they move, I think it’s the teeth on the bucket (or whatever it’s called). If someone could Photoshop some googly eyes on the digger I'd appreciate it.

Going . . . .

 . . . .going . . . .

 . . . going . . 

GONE!!!!!!!! Apologies for the weird reflections on the windows, I filmed these from inside as it was very dusty and cold outside

Anyway that’s it for now.