Continue to the end of St Edyth’s Road. The shops on The Square are versions of the WDB5 design that you will also see on the Hillfields and Knowle Park walks. There were originally 12 shops but some have been converted to residential use. Turn left into Shirehampton Road and then left into the Recreation Ground (13).
Napier Miles recommended to the council’s Housing Committee that at least five acres of the new estate should be set aside for sport. Like the Recreation Ground in the Hillfields walk, this is an enclosed yet open space with a perimeter of houses. A cricket pavilion was opened in May 1923, which became an important venue for social activities. The Sea Mills Tenants Association was formed there, holding its first meeting in November 1927. It was destroyed by fire several years ago. Sea Mills Amateur Football Club was founded in 1925 and continues to play to this day though the games now take place in Kings Weston.
The walk ends here. If you are in need of refreshment before continuing your journey, The Café on the Square (converted from a former toilet block) is recommended (see www.smci.org.uk/cafeonthesquare.htm for opening hours). The café is run by Sea Mills Community Initiatives, a charitable company set up in 2009 by the local churches, which has also developed a community garden on the estate. You can catch the number 4 back to Bristol city centre from the nearby bus stop.
Alternatively, you could go to the library and catch the number 3 bus, which will also take you back to the centre.
Opposite Blue Bell Close is a lane that leads directly into Sea Mills Recreation Ground, with its football pitches, changing rooms and tarmac playground. Here on Saturday mornings, throughout the season, our local team, ‘The Millers’ played rival teams from the amateur league. My father took me along to watch them a few times. He sat me up on his shoulders and we watched as muddy men in shorts and striped tops ran around the pitch, kicking a very muddy leather ball. It seemed to me quite the most awful way to spend a Saturday morning. It was always cold and wet and muddy. At half-time there were white mugs of hot tea and stale shortcake biscuits. I remember being put down to stand among the grey flannel trousers and gabardine raincoats, craning my neck to watch the men above me taking; talking, talking, talking for what seemed like hours. I never really understood why people enjoyed standing in the rain to watch these men chase that muddy ball around. It wasn’t an experience I had any liking for. It put me off spectator sports forever. ‘Over My Shoulder, Memoir of a Bristolian Boy’ John Stephens