Hunter from Hull - Revision #7 - February 22, 2008 1:56:31 PM UTC

Princes Quay, Hull :-

'Puma-Ann Concolor' savoured the smooth creaminess... the bitter-sweet warmth, as it flooded her senses and trickled down her throat. The glow spread slowly downwards, until it enveloped her whole. She waited for the familiar heat to build, as blood vessels dilated, and openings began to exude moisture. Perhaps the effect had something to do with the sun shining though the huge east window, and the soft strains of 'Samba Pati' in the background. But as Puma allowed her whole body to relax, her parted lips couldn't help but give out a moan of satisfaction for the wonderous magic of the coffee bean and chilli pepper. This was the life.. beginning a hunt with a cup of Leornardos' chilli-coffee. The hour drive from Skeffling was worth it.

Her fortnight out in the Med had been amazing. But she was glad to be back home. Her heart belonged here... this was where she felt safe. It was actually, these days, with all the over-policing to 'clean' it up. But nevertheless, it was and had always been, her city. She belonged to it, and it belonged to her. It was her home ground, where she was born and bred. It always felt like home, even though she didn't live here any more. This city of many faces and colours.

"Hull" !

The city that people who've never been, dread; for some unfathomable reason. Ok, it was true, it had been a bit (just a tad, mind) grim when she was growing up. There used to be a saying in the olden days, "God spare us from Halifax, Hull and Hell". But apparently, that was by the criminals and other no-gooders, so probably a good thing.

"Kingston-upon-Hull" !

University city, sea-gate to Europe, birth place of William Wilberforce and home of the "Deep". Like a quirky kiss, it leaves you thinking about her long after, searching for meaning, searching for more.
The given name for the city, sitting on the confluence of the river Hull and the Humber estuary. Like a room full of rugger players, Humberside has notoriety for being was rough, ready and exciting. Like your first time with a Humbrian lover, you brace yourself, and hope it wont be too bad. But Hull slides into you slickly and you find yourself opening up to the unexpected sweetness, which keeps you gasping for more. Well, at least that's what the students who keep returning, say... that is, the ones who haven't just because they flunked their exams.

The city centre buzzes with life. The fusion of the old and new towns resulting in a synergy and unlikely alliance. Like a pot of honey to bees and flies, its museums, jazz cafes, outdoor concerts, ancient pubs, restaurants and shops, draw them in. The beatniks, philosophers, politicos, dock workers, sailors, fishers, yachters. And the tourists and the other weird and wonderful people. With that chilled out atmosphere that tends to go with a leftist haven, some say it's the English Seattle. But long before the advent of the stars and stripes, or the unions and Labour party, like a wet dream, it's heritage in the English Civil War had left it's spot.

Well, whatever Hull was, it suited Puma-Ann perfectly at this point in the peak of her life. Through that institution, supposedly of learning, she had been lured away in her misguided youth, to richer pickings. Only, everyone had the same great idea. But now the circle had completed. It had become a gateway for fresh meat to Hull... easy pickings.

For Puma-Ann Concolor, Hull was the Happy Hunting Ground !