Field Marshall Lou Yates of Back to Ours briefs the troops where to be to get the best view of the Our City parades next week in Hull. Don’t miss out!

Jade Wreathall, of HU7 Hive, proves postulant when manoeuvring mongst the monks of Meaux.

Chunks of plastic and metal they may be, but Adam from canine cyborg experts Reel Creative knows just how to make them sit up and beg.

The answer to the question ‘where can I go bull-baiting?’ is also answered in this surprisingly gory slice of history from our ceramic carnival correspondent Angus Young.

It was one of the big annual events to look forward to if you happened to live in Hull 200 years ago. Pottery Feast was held every Easter Monday, one of the three major festivals during the year in the town alongside Drypool Feast and Hull Fair held in the Market Place..

Said to have originally been the idea of a local ship’s captain, the carnival took its name from its location in a neighbourhood then known locally as The Potteries off English Street where two large pot and glass-making kilns were based. The captain could well have imported the idea from seeing similar festivals in the Baltic states where he was a frequent visitor, coming up with a programme of competitions and sports which evolved over time into a larger event featuring stalls, sideshows, shooting galleries, rides and amusements.

The original site for Pottery Feast was an open field east of Alfred Street (now a car park for staff working at Smith & Nephew) where bull-baiting was an early attraction. A bull was tethered to a large stone in the middle of a field with a long length of rope before a pack of dogs would be released close by to attack it. The bull was invariably pulled violently back towards the stone if it launched a counter charge. If a dog got too close it risked being gored by the bull and on one occasion a bull broke loose and charged down English Street, scattering crowds along the way.

As spectator sports go, it wasn’t for the faint-hearted but badger-baiting at the Feast was arguably even worse. A badger was kept in a wooden barrel with one end open to the elements. Dogs were then released to attack the badger with bets being laid on which dog would emerge with its prey between its jaws.

As the immediate area’s population started to grow with the arrival of Hull’s first railway line to the south, the Feast got even bigger and rowdier, spreading along the length of English Street. The local pubs certainly did a roaring trade, drunken behaviour became the norm and criminality was rife as evidenced by a number of contemporary court reports.

In 1838 mother-of-thirteen Hannah Outon was charged with being drunk and stealing a piece of fish from a street stall at Pottery Feast. She told the court she had two glasses of ale and a small sup of rum for breakfast before grabbing the fish and eating it raw.

In 1843 a 13-year-old girl called Elizabeth Fawcitt was arrested after stealing £2 and seven shillings from the drawer of a lodging house. She spent most of the money at Pottery Feast, including buying two gold rings and an accordion for herself and treating a group of friends to a share of eleven tarts, a twopenny cake, a halfpennyworth cup of soda and several swing rides.

In 1848 a ship’s apprentice called Thomas Coates appeared in court charged with absenting himself from his vessel just before it was due to sail. He initially claimed to be ill but it was proved he was actually “enjoying himself” at Pottery Feast instead. The magistrates  sent him to a house of correction for 21 days.

The Feast also experienced  tragedy.

In 1832 a 12-year-old boy called John Green was crushed to death when a large swing collapsed on top of him and in 1886 a police constable died after falling into Albert Dock at the end of a late-night shift on patrol at Pottery Feast.

After Hull Fair moved to Walton Street in the late 19th century it appears Pottery Feast’s popularity waned to the point where it all but disappeared. One hundred years of outdoor entertainment – the good, the bad and the ugly – had come to an end.

Angus Young

Barney, of Wilkin Chapman Rollits, explains that a trainee solicitor is very nearly a solicitor but not quite.

Artist Lucy Brooke, of The Feminine Urge, runs down her favourite painted portrayals.

One of Hull’s rising comedy stars Jack Gleadow joins Burnsy for a chat about all things stand up

Have a guess. Go on. Bet you’re wrong. Our rail elevation correspondent Angus Young has done an inventory.

We are all familiar with the crossings over the River Hull and the rather large suspension bridge spanning the Humber estuary. In comparison, however, the many and varied bridges in the city forming part of the Hull docks railway freight line get little attention. They cross roads, waterways, cycle routes and even another railway line. So here’s an overdue appreciation of this collection of sturdy structures which keep trains running on the elevated line to and from the port.

First of all, how many bridges are there within the city boundary?

Having compared notes with erstwhile bridge expert and photographer Rich Duffy-Howard, we reckon there are a grand total of 24. They range from old rusty ones (Boothferry Road) to relatively new shiny ones (Spring Bank West and James Reckitt Avenue – both installed in 2013 at a cost of £4.2m and £1m respectively).

There’s also the one struck most by lorries unable to squeeze under it (Stoneferry Road) and the one plagued by pigeon droppings falling on pedestrians below (Chanterlands Avenue).

Above Beverley Road, there’s one with a couple of abandoned railway carriages underneath previously used as a bar while no fewer than three take trains over drains. Another (between Perth Street West and Spring Bank West) runs above the entirely separate Hull to Bridlington rail line.

My personal favourite is the only bridge which isn’t a fixed structure and is quite hard to spot despite being one of the largest on the docks freight line. Officially known as Hull Bridge, the crossing over the River Hull is actually a swing bridge and both the bridge and its operating cabin are Grade II listed to reflect their historic importance. With the steep recent decline in river traffic it rarely swings these days and can only be briefly glimpsed while travelling down Bankside. With nearby sections of the riverside mostly inaccessible, views of the bridge are limited. That’s a shame because it’s an attractively curved mass of riveted steel, known in the bridge-building world as Lattice Truss Bowstring. Think Tyne Bridge on a smaller scale and you get the idea. The bridge swings on a central roller pivot carried on round cast-iron posts which form a hollow pier sunk into a riverbank.

With the exception of the new Spring Bank West bridge which replaced an original structure, all the bridges were opened in 1885 on completion of the line by the new Hull, Barnsley and West Riding Junction Railway and Dock Company. Most were built with brick arches and abutments while the bridge spanning Beverley Road just north of the Queens Road junction was accompanied by two-storey brick building with access to the elevated track from the first floor. At the time, the line effectively circled most of built-up Hull. For example, the track now crossing Chanterlands Avenue was originally laid on a raised embankment. The road currently running underneath it was constructed in the 1930s by effectively digging a cutting under it.

The railway company began with large amounts of debt but managed to operate until 1921 when it became part of North Eastern Railways. Thirty years later, a single sided station halt was built on the line next to Hull City’s Boothferry Park stadium to ferry fans to and from the ground. The ‘soccer special’ service ended in 1986.

Today the docks line in Hull remains freight-only. Dreams of adding a future mass transit passenger service on the elevated route still seem light years away.

Angus Young

Design journalist and founder of Concrete Communities Leanne Cloudsdale picks a view that isn’t a view, but is definitely a favourite.

Our Urban Mythbuster Amy Thompson returns to seek out the truth of a subterranean rumour.