This beetle was very purposeful, and it’s a shame that there was no pot of gold (beetle equivalent) at the end of the table outside the pub, but I did help it down to the floor at that point. A test of the micro-focus on the camera, anyway, and its quite precise: the body is pretty much there, but the antennae, they are just that little bit blurred.
Too nice a day to spend it inside whether that was home, the pub or on a train somewhere. And I needed the exercise, hence my walking north from home over the moors to Oxenhope — where, OK, I might have visited a pub, but only after walking 7½ miles to get there. For a chunk of this journey I was being closely watched by various specimens of Ovis aries, both mature and young — the lambs are definitely out.
The sun continues to shine and it was far too nice a day to extend the whole ‘working at home’ thing past about 3pm, particularly bearing in mind it is now the weekend (cf. yesterday’s comment). These people may well be on their way home too as they wait for the hourly bus to Haworth and Keighley.
The glass of wine is not mine; in fact, nor is it Steve’s, sitting opposite, and, in part anyway, making his fifteenth appearance on the blog (thus coming in at one per year on average). You can tell it’s him: he’s the only person I encounter regularly who habitually wears this much jewellry. Drinks were just migrating to this point in space, well lit by warm sunshine. Shame it’s not the weekend, but possibly tomorrow will be little different.
As will be made obvious by my photographs, I don’t go into Manchester every working day by any means. But when I do, if arriving on platforms 4 or 5 this will invariably be the first thing seen there. Up we all go, to then distribute ourselves through the city by some other means of locomotion.
More flowers. Then again, it is spring: a sunny, but chilly day today. If this is taken to represent my spending time today frolicking in the countryside, it shouldn’t be — teaching has restarted and I spent the whole day on campus. These bluebells sprout outside the entrance to the Chemistry building, in which, most of the semester, I have had the late afternoon slot in theatre G54.
Off trundles the 17:10 to Wigan Wallgate — more-or-less on time today (in fact the trains have behaved remarkably well so far this year, at least by Northern’s standards). It’s a bit of a shame about the platform appearing in the corner but, believe me, this one was cropped as carefully as it could be without losing essential elements.
As anyone with a lawn, or responsibilities for some other kind of open grassy space, knows, it’s dandelion season. Soon these will sprout their seeds and fill the air with them, and later on, there will be a bunch more dandelions. That’s nature for you, I guess.
Why the fans of Ashington FC turned up at today’s game (at Brighouse) dressed as chickens is a story I was told, but in some ways it is far too tragic to relate here: let us just say that it was to do with a practical joke from the past that may have gone wrong. Beyond this you do not want to know, trust me. Connection corner: this is the second time Ashington FC have made it onto tbe blog and, as the visiting team on both occasions, they were just as successful as last time — this is also the second time that, at Brighouse, there has been a picture of a grown man dressed as a chicken. What this says about me, Brighouse Town, and non-league football generally, I know not.
This year’s peas and beans are getting a relatively hi-tech home, none of this cheap cane-based arrangement this year. The frame is up, I help Clare sort out the netting, while she practices putting her feet at right angles for a minute or two.
Being 42 