From the air, England is a patchwork of cities and country, stitched together with granite and rock and fields and streets.
Hard against the North Sea is the UK city of Hull, cradled from that vast expanse by the River Humber. She reaches into Yorkshire in the North and Lincolnshire in the south with the city rooted in the crook of her arm.
Follow her out from the land of safety and your eye falls across the other country: one of rolling and glassy navy blues.
This is a cold sea, a bitter sea, a connecting northern flow that binds Hull with Europe. It is the strength of the sea that in medieval Britain, trade grew and with it the port at the estuary of ‘Mother Humber,’ respect for her lifeblood given in this name.
When docks were built to accommodate trade and industry, Hull became a gateway to the wealth that Europe brings. British woollen products and textiles were transported out from the enormous ship-filled berths, bringing wealth to the growing middle classes.
It was a gift of positioning geographically and economically for a woman called Mira Johnson. In 1939 she established a couture fashion house based at the Church Institute on Albion Street, in the center of Hull.
At first optimistic, this advantage turned when the North Sea blew against Britain in the war.
Hull’s gateway to world conflict would affect business, homes and family life as well as the character of the city for years to come.
In bad weather Zeppelins flying to London in the first world war turned back. The airships dropped their payloads of incendiary bombs onto the roofs and heads of the citizens of Hull. People lost their homes, business and lives.
In the aftermath Hull came to realise that a war could be fought from the sky. The people rioted for better protection. In preparation, 40,000 air raid shelters were built in the City but between Word War 1 and the outbreak of World War 2 in 1939, airship technology had advanced.
With it the dark, sky line threat of aerial attack was realised. Air raid shelters were scant protection from The Hull Blitz. The as-the-crow-flies distance from Nazi occupied Europe gave Germany the arrows they needed to bomb the City and port of Hull.
In 1941 the City lived in constant terror of a Nazi bombardment seconded only by the London Blitz.
95% of houses were damaged. The toll of dead and injured was in it’s thousands. 152,000 were made homeless.
The beautiful, historic Georgian, Victorian and Edwardian architecture in the city center caved under the storm.
Half of it was destroyed, taking with it thriving retail and industrial businesses, hospitals, churches, pubs, schools, cinemas, factories as well as homes.
Albion Street, within the lopsided square of roads encircling the old City, looked very different at the start of the war that it did at the finish.
The library, at the head of the street, attempted to maintain normality by opening its doors, but the people who lived in the brick terraces cowered throughout the Hull Blitz until finally, vast swathes of it was destroyed.
The air raid shelter to protect those who lived and worked nearby was a painful nothing, an inadequate and resounding tin hat against the driving onslaught of bombs.
But within this magnet to terror, the House Of Mirelle survived…
© Carrie Henderson 2015