40 Steps Backwards and A Pirouette. : Bristol Bumblings - Day 5 - Sunday 13th September 2015 - The smell of bleach is not the smoothest aphrodisiac known to the human race.

After an absolutely dreadful night's sleep, I dragged myself out of bed at 8 am, performed all of the usual ablutions plus one or two others just for the sheer novelty value then had breakfast. The Hilton weekend breakfast continued apace. Basically, the special items that you can get during the week disappear at the weekend. Also and no fault to them but it's odd to see cleaners at 5.35 pm in your room. I sneaked in then sneaked out again.

Anyway, I left the Hilton at about 10 am and had to negotiate the diversions and pleasures associated with the Half Marathon. Not as busy as you may think but still runners to negotiate and the seemingly ubiquitous crossing points, so that pedestrians and cyclists could outpace the runners.

I was off to College Green for the Street Art Walking Tour and upon arrival, I was approached by a gentleman who mistook me for the tour guide. Funny that as I also thought that he was the guide. At about 10.50 am, the real guide, a happy and friendly lady called Harriet appeared. She is an actual street artist. I believe that she works on both sides of the crooked canvas, if you catch my drift. She also teaches and at one point in the tour, she pointed out a project that she had worked on with some Prince's Trust students. She was very informative on the laws and rules surrounding street art both within the community and in relation to the judicial system. There are lawful and unlawful works. Then as has been the case with a certain Mr. Banksy, there have been works that the local council has asked the residents to either condone or condemn. Almost like Nero sitting in an arena requesting a thumbs up or down.

It was interesting to learn that Banksy actually doesn't have much surviving artwork in Bristol and that there are certain crews/krews who have recently taken to splashing blue paint on his and others' works, as apparently a defaced work can apparently be seen as an opportunity to start again. It is interesting to think that within the street art community, there does seem to be a minority who can't stand the success of Banksy.

Harriet, the tour guide, I believe is also known as Miss Hazard, eventually took the group to Stokes Croft. Stokes Croft is home to lots of independent businesses and also some of the finest street art you could ever wish to see. Harriet explained how some of the art on the shops would have been paid for and really served to brighten up the businesses. Also the concept of memorial walls is touching. In situations where a graffiti artist or one of their associates die, it is not uncommon to create a painted memorial, in many respects the equivalent of a tombstone. Harriet explained how these memorials could not be subsequently painted over by other artists.

The tour went on for two hours and other than avoiding the runners where possible, the tour went by without a hitch.

After this, I went wandering. I hoped to find Cabot Tower. This was the last of the places on my list of places I really wanted to visit. Eventually, after traipsing around for awhile, I found it and climbed to the top of the Tower up some very steep stairs. The views of Bristol and other surrounding areas were stunning.

Upon finally descending, I found the restaurant I spotted on my first night and decided to eat there. Very good food and it was nice to stop for awhile and reflect on the day's events (but can I remember the name of the restaurant?).

It has been a strange old week in Bristol, I have encountered and embraced a myriad of feelings. Sometimes, a sense of sadness has overcome me, but only for a short period. Being a single traveller opens your eyes to the world around you and also to aspects of your character you have either ignored or failed to notice. I have enjoyed Bristol, precisely because it eludes simple definition. It can be subversive. It has a history of riots and social protest, but there have been times when these moments have been for the greater good. It has an art scene that continues to expand. Bristol is its own work in progress, not entirely incumbent upon the past, which can all too often suffocate the cultural scene in London. I see Bristol as a seed being gently watered. Its identity is as fluid as the rivers that flow through it. Brunel still respected as an innovator and life begins anew when you wander tremulously over the Clifton Suspension Bridge in the wind. Bristol is perfectly symbolised by that bridge. So high and so expansive.

In closing, there is a dark side to Bristol. Upon entering one of the toilets in a park, a sharps bin was available to deposit your used needles, a sorry reminder of the all pervasive shadow of drugs in every society. Homelessness also seems to be an issue. But I am sure that there problems are being addressed.

Bristol is the city for people who have forgotten how to love, both themselves and others. It provides the warm hug of a stranger and reminds you of the importance of union and unity. It offers a culture borne of love and persistence.

Barry Watt - Sunday 13th September 2015.

Photos.