The Way to Hull

Swerving east, from rich industrial shadows
And traffic all night north; swerving through fields
Too thin and thistled to be called meadows,
And now and then a harsh-named halt, that shields
Workmen at dawn; swerving to solitude
Of skies and scarecrows, haystacks, hares and pheasants,
And in the widening river's slow presence,
The piled gold clouds, the shining gull-marked mud,

Gathers to the surprise of a large town: ...

Philip Larkin 1961

I left Birmingham, almost the heart of England, for Hull in September 1964. It was before parents accompanied their children to University. I was on my own, my luggage having been sent in advance. As I swerved east it was night-time. I vividly remember that stretch where there is the Humber river on one side and pitch blackness on the other. It was like traversing a causeway. For me it was my Journey to the End of Night. Arriving at Hull Railway Station and getting out onto the streets I was aware of the mist swirling round the street lights and the sound of shipping on the Humber. It was all new for someone who had lived their life until then far away from the sea and its shipping.

It was a harsh awakening to a new life made briefly more pleasant by the introduction provided by the University Librarian (and poet) Philip Larkin at the event to welcome new students. He read a familiar piece from Henry Miller about the joy of libraries. I relaxed for a bit and took it as a good omen.

The photo was shot on location, overlooking the Humber, the railway and the hinterland. I do not normally process images but I have used the online TiltShiftMaker for this.