My mother died in Hull about 15 years ago and I went there to sort out her personal effects.
As her house was close to Pearson Park I walked over to look for Larkin's flat and eventually found it. There was a plaque on the wall, but the house was shabby and unoccupied, the garden overgrown, and there was a rusting lawnmower there which probably dated back to Larkin's time.
Larkin was mostly ignored in Hull until it was declared England's City of Culture a few years ago, and I think that was when his statue was erected. I suppose there'll be a clamour to take it down before very long.
I spent the night in the hotel the subject of 'Friday Night at the Royal Station Hotel', in homage to Larkin. The feeling of the poem was uncannily accurate.
|