Showing posts with label Royal Park School. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Royal Park School. Show all posts

Monday, 7 April 2014

Royal Park, the tying on of Flowers and Ribbons

Thanks to Sue's tireless efforts we have another vigil, with ribbons and flowers. Yes, they have demolished Royal Park School.
 
 

After that, turns out it was a local councillors' forum. Am off for a few points of order.
 
Poor old Javed kept trying to start the meeting, but Sue and then I had a point or two in the Open Forum bit.
 
My points were about landlordism and that the ex-West Park-users were not all satisfactorily housed, but Debs, that's for another blog.
 
Meantime here's a few rubbish pics of the ribbons and flowers and a 56 bus.
 
 
 Wrong blog, I know, Debs, but why would a country [the UK] and a town [Leeds] knock down a beautiful old Victorian school building at a time when the local schools are bursting and more school capacity is needed? Beats me!
 
Hope you are enjoying Abu Dhabi still, but right now I am not enjoying Leeds UK.
 

 

 

Saturday, 28 July 2012

Royal Park School Playground Clean up, and there's life in the old cat yet

Just when I thought the holidays had finally started, I find I have a message from Sue the Relentless texter. She's there in the Royal Park playground from 10 am till 4pm collecting plants, planting them out, tidying up. There were five of them left when I finally rocked up at 3pm. Out of Sue, herself, Martin, Little John, Ian, Dawn, Magda, Dave and Wain. Ex-pupil Scott turns up to lock the gates. Gwen provided the flowers.

I planted some flowers, discussed Radio Four's choice of appropriate panellists with Martin; why I got dropped from Leeds Carnival with Wain, took some photos and left them still hard at it.


By the way, I just read they want to expand yet another local primary school.

Royal Park, standing, elegantly in the heart of its community, still awaits the call. It took over 100 years to build its history. You can't consult on that or buy it, you know.

By the way, Clippy, who came my way in aforementioned cardboard box in 1996, and is, consequently  a cat of some great age, has taken to living in the garden. And on Tuesday we found out why. I had my back to her sitting on a garden chair when the combination of the look of terror on Daisy's face, and the hideous sound of pouncing of cat on mouse [or possibly baby rat]  had me frozen with fear. Got over the shock, turned round, saw very proud Clippy with ex-mouse.  Pic to follow. Meantime here's one of Clippy earlier this year on a shelf.