Having eulogised the plums and blackberries already this year — and for good reason — let us also add the glorious amount, and richness, of 2018’s apples as well — not to mention a second good crop of rhubarb. In this aspect, no one can complain about the year.
A Saturday night out in Leeds. However, there are no photos of that, thanks to fascist doormen who seemed to be worried that my Mario Testino-style gear (cost of camera, £250) would somehow be a threat to image rights the world over. So here, instead, is the architectual centrepiece of the place where, many years ago — 25 this year, in fact (good grief) — I first came as a student. It’s still a cool building. And all in all a nicer campus than the one I presently work on (sorry, Manchester, but it’s true).
Pulled duty on the 6:32 train to Manchester for the first time in a while, making this the earliest true morning shot since January 2017. Maybe I wasn’t the first one up in the whole town but there weren’t many of us. A long week of work comes to an end. Is it Christmas yet?
This is a good bit of wall. And well lit. It looks like a collage. There must be something philosophical to be said about walls, how a good one is not just a monotonous single surface but an accumulation of bits and pieces over time. I wonder how many walls I have featured on the blog — here’s another good one for example. Not to mention the Berlin Wall….
The TV mast on Emley Moor, east of Huddersfield, is well-known to anyone who lives in Yorkshire. Built in 1971 (after the previous version fell down due to ice), at 1,084 feet, or 330.4m, it is still the tallest free-standing structure in the UK and the fourth-highest in Europe. Why did I find myself up close to it on this pleasant evening? Well, you know. I get about.
The bit of this photo that troubles me is in the bottom left — the lines being the guy ropes for the radio mast, almost as tall, which stands just nearby, and which I’m pretty sure is new. But I guess you can ignore them.
A week ago I injured my hand for reasons which were unnecessary to share on here at the time and there’s nothing to be gained in revealing them now. The specific location of this injury was the ring finger of my left hand, which is where I’ve been wearing my silver wedding band since 2nd July 1999. This finger is currently strapped to its neigbour, and (not so apparent on this photo) is swelled up like a comedy cartoon appendage, Yosemite Sam’s hand after he has had it whacked by Bugs Bunny, that kinda thing. So I can’t wear my ring, for the first time in 19 years.
Fortunately the wife has agreed to accommodate it. Isn’t she sweet? That’s it, down there.
There’s not a great deal happening at the moment. On such occasions it’s time to appreciate the good colours and light to be seen out of our back windows, when they’re available. Today, they were. Whatever that particularly yellow tree is, it was shining like a beacon over the town at 4.10pm this afternoon. And I know the tower of the Nutclough Mill gets in the way a bit, but it has been there a long time.
One of those cases where I looked up, saw the moon was just heading down behind the trees on the other side of the valley, and pulled (or, is it pushed) out the big zoom. I could say more, but that’s really all there was to this one.
Hopefully the ‘autumn colours’ theme isn’t stale yet. Hard to avoid at the moment, really. Clare indulged me today by coming along for the usual Saturday non-league football fetish, here at Todmorden Borough FC in the wild uppermost reaches of the Calder valley. There haven’t been many portraits of the family on here lately, but let’s change that today. Her blue top against the background is a good contrast. And I like the way the railing stops halfway along.
This is very Hebden Bridge. With an autumn sheen.
