I do love a door within a door, and this beautiful red one in Hotwell Road really ticks some boxes for me. It is not particularly old nor is it all that interesting in that it has few features to speak of, but it has bundles of character. Most people probably wouldn’t give it a second glance, but to those who like to look might like it.
It was a double-take door for me. I actually walked past it, stopped in my tracks and went back to it to take these pictures. A nice simple door.
I cannot for the life of me remember exactly where in East Village this door was. I had been walking for a long while hunting down street art and had little idea of where I was.
The outstanding feature of this door is the beautiful cast iron panels either side of the entrance. Somehow these panels have survived, but appear to have been forgotten. A reminder of a bygone era. The graffiti is in itself rather unremarkable but adds to the overall appearance of the door. It is interesting that none of the graffiti or tags seem to stray beyond the border of the door, which appears to act as a kind of frame. An interesting doorway.
This really is one of my favourite doors…ever. It is a tiny door that accesses the crypt under the magnificent church of St John the Baptist. Behind the door…remember to duck…steps lead down into a vaulted crypt, a quiet and peaceful place that is opened by the Churches Conservation trust (who own and curate the building) from time to time.
The church itself was built into the city walls in the fourteenth century, and although alterations have been made, much of the original character of this building remains.
For me the door holds secrets behind it, secrets that only the curious enjoy.
This door is at the end of a derelict factory building or warehouse in Lydstep Terrace. I can’t find out much about what the building used to be, but it has no roof and is in a pretty shoddy state. I managed to find a council document that refers to the site as an unlisted building of merit.
It is pretty clear that this door is closed to all visitors. No entry, shut, barred, locked…you’re not getting in.
The long wall to the left of the door is a magnet for graffiti and tagging and has used by street art wannabes as a practice wall. The graffiti here has come to something of an abrupt halt however as developers have recently moved in and are getting quite busy doing something. It will be interesting to see what they make of this rather unexceptional building.
Gentrification in progress. The taggers will have to move on.
This is the front entrance to one of the most remarkable buildings in Bristol. It was the Edward Everard Printing Works and is tucked away in the narrow (and perhaps inappropriately named) Broad Street. Edward Everard was a well known and prosperous Bristol printer who commissioned Henry Williams to build the print works in 1900 and the pre-Raphealite art nouveau facade was by William Neatby.
Much of the original building was demolished, but this facade remains and the building has been used as as offices by the NatWest bank, although judging by the chain and padlock on the gate it doesn’t look much in use at the moment.
The beautiful craftsmanship on the gates is really worth a closer look – some fabulous oak and mistletoe designs and a very grand E.
The entrance arch and gates are impressive, but it is the stunning facade above them that sets this building apart from all others. More about this building on the Bristol past website.
This is a door designed to keep prying eyes out, rather than to welcome visitors in. It is one of the entrances to the Redcliffe Caves, which form a central part in Bristol’s history as an international trading port.
I, along with many others, believed this cave to be a place where slaves were incarcerated, a folklore of the city which is quite untrue. Rather it was used as a store for merchandise and has in more recent times been used as a waste dump.
The area is steeped in history and above the gate this plaque, donated by the Bristol Civic Society, describes some of the features of Redcliffe. I have to say I find the plaque a little sycophantic and more about past and present businesses than abiout heritage…but maybe that is just me and I think I am being a bit harsh.
Certainly this doorway contains mystery and elicits curiosity.
These doors belong to a small shop called Pastimes, which tells us everything really, a shop was never so aptly named. I don’t think that anything about the decor of the shop, and indeed much of its content, has changed since the 1960s.
I would guess that it is owned and managed by a passionate collector, and not a shopkeeper. It looks very much like a situation where a hobby has spiralled out of control. I cannot recall seeing the shop being open…ever, and it appears to have been in a condition of stasis over the last couple of years. Maybe the owner is unwell or too old to look after things. But it is still there, and when I pass I gaze through the windows trying to see what lies within. Wartime memorabilia, stamps, cigarette cards, coins, plates…all those kinds of things adorn the walls (and floor space).
It is interesting that the shop seems to span two buildings, each with its own front door. I don’t know if they join up inside. The building itself is not kept in the best of repair, and I am left wondering if the owner of the shop is also the owner of the buildings – how else could the shop still be there?
I think every town has a shop like this. A wonderland. An old curiosity shop.