In search of the Goodly Spirit of Goole

Restless last night, due to the undoubted thrill of having reached Goole, and perhaps more immediately to the high temperature of my rooftop room in the Clifton Hotel and Chinese Restaurant, on busy Boothferry Road.

In the midnight dark I opened my eyes, frustrated from my futile attempts to slumber, and sat upright as facing me in a sepia glow on the opposite wall, was an apparition. The shape of a cloaked person, with a thin head or perhaps wearing some sort of crown – like one of the Magi – looked down on me. Formed on the wall by streetlight diffusing through net curtains this still, nocturnal visitor seemed to me a calming presence. Not the shape of those fevered ghosts I’d encountered underneath the Ouse Bridge, more a quietly welcoming spirit. In my state of altered consciousness it didn’t take me long to decide who this kindly visitor was. I gave this shape a name: The Goodly Spirit of Goole.

This morning I was disappointed though not surprised to find that The Goodly Spirit of Goole had gone. That is to say, I couldn’t see it any more. But I sensed that it must be somewhere in this town. So I decided to make this a day in search of The Goodly Spirit of Goole.

Here’s a list of some places where The Goodly Spirit of Goole wasn’t:

– on overheated Boothferry Road where traffic queues are constant and complicated by the many trying to manoeuvre across it from smaller side streets;

– at the concrete works where the young man operating a dumper truck was layered with dust and embroiled in relentlessly repetitive and nerve-jarring work, like many of his dockland colleagues;

– at the doors of St John’s church: locked (though the gardens were incongruously peaceful as containers were lifted and loaded loudly in the docks just over the wall.

– on Goole’s Clock Tower: erected in 1927 to mark the Centenary of the opening of the docks, adapted in the late 1990s to become the base for a huge CCTV camera set [blogged about here].

There’s far more places to list where I sensed that The Goodly Spirit of Goole might be.

I sensed that The Goodly Spirit of Goole might be at the town centre shops where I realised again that shopping isn’t merely a series of economic transactions: it’s what people do to meet other people, in places like this – where husband, wife and newsagent share some gentle teasing, where two ex-colleagues of different ages and genders have a warm ‘catch-up’ conversation outside Iceland, where a young woman enjoys showing her baby to a friend who is equally delighted to hold the child – incongruously so, he being a generously tattooed punkish person.

I sensed that The Goodly Spirit of Goole might be at the Library in the morning conversations between staff and users of all ages, all friendly, well-informed and inerrantly helpful, with the children enjoying their game of whispers, around the table where elderly men meet to go over the papers, fill in the Times Crossword, and chat, and at the computers where those of working age type intently to learn new skills.

I sensed that The Goodly Spirit of Goole might be down Bridge Road at the snack bar which offers needed relief to the hardworking men of the docks.

I sensed that The Goodly Spirit of Goole might be at the Waterways Museum, close to the Viking Marina, where enthusiasts talk over the details of their days work restoring and maintaining boats of various fashion, for the enjoyment of (today) children from a special needs school and young men on a maritime First Aid course.

I certainly sensed The Goodly Spirit of Goole at a place I called The Henge, possibly created by those who constructed the Nature Trail from the Waterways Museum: a circle of stones with three central pieces, the large one triangular and designed to cast a dial-like shadow towards Goole town centre at sundown. Designed from old railway or canal side stones, and well-maintained (with well-cut grass) this place of wonder, hidden between the Aire and Calder Navigation Canal and the Dutch River, aligns itself to various power centres: Goole Parish Church steeple, the town’s landmark Water Tower, and the mighty smoking chimneys of Drax.

Walking back townwards from The Henge, I realised something about The Goodly Spirit of Goole – he could be a Dutchman. For much that is endearing about Goole (I write, I know, on just one day’s evidence) is related to the continental flatlands whose topography and trade it shares. Bicycles are in abundance here, people of all ages and conditions riding them everywhere, including down busy dock roads and even angry Boothferry. Docks and dykes abound, each reminders to the people of their tenuous hold on stability and security, their complex relationship with water which is both source and potential destroyer of life and income. Ships load and unload here from Rotterdam and many other Northern European ports.

As I approach the Old Goole Bridge, flanked by two identifiably Dutch-styled pubs, The Goodly Spirit of Goole seemed to identify himself to me, in the name Vermuyden. The pub ahead is called The Vermuyden, as is the terrace behind it, and the large school down Boothferry Road, and numerous other places in Goole. They are named for Cornelius Vermuyden, 1630s constructor of the Dutch River, which drained the countryside here and opened up valuable trade routes. Vermuyden is thus rightly celebrated as the founder of the modern port of Goole. None of the above would be here but for this man’s work.

The Goodly Spirit of Goole – has to be a Dutchman. He’s been quite a revelation to me.