Review of my day at the fruit market.

Journalists are bad people.

As I explored the fruit market I noticed that it was pretty much derelict, besides some local whole sellers.  I decided to try and interview employees that worked in the area, which didn’t go down to well.

Firstly, I approached two men that worked in a whole seller. One of the men claimed he was Russian and didn’t speak very good English. I just thought he didn’t want to be interviewed, primarily because he most definitely spoke perfect English and as it turned out he wasn’t Russian, which did not confuse me, at all.  He then quietly muttered ‘Journalists are bad people’. This seemed very stereotypical of him.

The second person I interviewed using the Dictaphone said that he didn’t care much for the artistic sensation and or ‘Fruit’ as it doesn’t  involve or concern him and he had little if any interest at all. He clearly just works in that location because that’s where it’s situated.

Having had a dead end interview encouraged me to continue my quest of finding local residents and employees, and so, I did.

I then noticed a small jewellery shop on the corner of Humber Street and opted to investigate.  Courteously greeted by the shop owner who recognised that we were part of the Hull college group asked if we would like to join in on their photography session, so we did.

We were asked to stand in the background and have a discussion whilst they photographed a colleague melting glass. Unfortunately, we didn’t get an interview with the owner, but, we did get an interview with the photographer – Karl Andre.  Who spoke to us about his thoughts and feelings of the artistic sense around the area and about his personal photography.

Carrying on walking around the fruit market, more specifically, Humber Street, it began to rain.

It now seemed inevitable that I wasn’t going to retrieve any more pictures or interviews so; the group ran into the closest pub ‘The Minerva’. Upon the wall were pictures of a ship, ironically named ‘The Minerva’. It became quite clear that we had wondered into a pub which shared a historical background and must have played a big role in the fruit market once upon a time. The pub itself played a leading role of a tribute to the ship that once was.

When the rain had stopped we continued our journey back to the college.  We walked back through Humber Street and back on to the Marina, then to be stopped by the apparent Russian, whole sailing, and hater of journalists.

Basically, the guy stopped our group to slander journalists some more, in particular, female journalists.  He started talking about a female journalist called ‘Teresa May’ and referred to the females in the group as bad journalists or rather ‘you will make bad journalists’ , based on the fact that female journalists weren’t as judgemental as male journalists. Basically because ‘Teresa May’ said that an illegal immigrant should be allowed to stay in the country because he owned a cat. Essentially, the guy had clearly caught the wrong end of the stick and missed the hint of sarcasm the ‘May’ enforced.  She was quite possibly almost as sarcastic as his tone of voice was, although she was less patronising. He hastily ended his lecture by throwing a large bag of chocolate buttons at us and saying ‘ere have some goodies’.


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