Highway to Hull

"Pottsy, you're from North Hull mate. You're acting like you're from Swanland."

I went to Hull and it was ace. I went because of the Capital of Culture thing. That and the fact it's the biggest city in the UK that I've not been to. It was a whole heap better than I was expecting. 

Two main reasons for this:

1. We stayed at the Inkerman Tavern. A heavily muralled pub on the middle of an industrial estate, which was absolutely heaving on a Friday and Saturday night - it had a Duke of Sussex (Rest in Peace) vibe going on, and there's nothing wrong with that.

2. The Freedom Festival. The whole city came to life with a cross-art festival. There was modern dance, tight rope melodrama, Peruvian folk and child hairdressers - all of the main ones, right? And I saw Chiedu Oraka, leading light of the Hull hiphop scene - I now feel Hull enough to pass for an 01482head.

So yeah, I liked Kingston Upon Hull a lot, with its white phone boxes and its blue Fanta. With its enormous moths and its lack of cash points. The journey though, not so much.

Heading up on a Friday night was always going to be a bit rubbish but I was hoping that the journey back on a Sunday would be better. But we went to Grimsby for breakfast. Nothing against Grimsby itself but it's not pumping on a Sunday. And not many of the tyre shops are open on a Sunday. And there is a limited choice of breakfast on Grimsby industrial estates. And let's just leave it at that. Fair to say, could have been far worse.