Is it a flower? A back-scratcher for use in some gargantuan shower? The severed limb of a creature with a fetish for chain-link jewellry? (I think that’s it for my free-association work.)
Half-time, time for refreshments for players and fans alike. The match we are watching is to have a great last five minutes, but all that is in the future at this point.
I cnanot think of anything deep to say about this one, except that it represents a day spent at home not doing much. This is a variable time of year; in mid-April in some other years I have been in Ljubljana, Melbourne and Windhoek, but this year all the spring travelling is already done.
I can’t really complain about the lack of activity on campus today — I was putting in my first appearance there in 19 days so have no leg to stand on. In the Ellen Wilkinson building’s ‘learning commons’ there may have been someone skulking at the back but they do not appear on the shot. On the left, the mural is of the building’s eponym: Britain’s first female Minister of Education and someone of the general kind of good reputation and worthy history that means they have buildings named after them. She died in 1947 aged 55, so is another person I have outlived.
“You can’t see me. I’m not really here.” Well, the black is a kind of anti-camouflage when put against the bright colours of spring and all that. Anyway Hebden has a great many jackdaws and wherever you look there’s a good chance of seeing at least one.
Some leagues get themselves wrapped up early, like the Northern Counties East League, which has already reached its play-offs. These are fans of Beverley Town, the home team. There are about 10 minutes to go on the clock at this point (though what they don’t yet know is that the ref is going to keep things going for about 20) and the 1-0 lead is going to be retained, don’t worry folks — although if you ask me most of them are looking at their phones at this point.
After a run of travelling, today marks the start of a period to be spent mostly at home, and ended where many Fridays do, namely the pub. There I noticed that the old logs used, now and again, as bar stools have a rather encrusted look about them which was a worthy subject for illustration. In fact there are a number of regulars of the Railway who affect this kind of thing, with me probably among them, these days.
More use of other people’s art, but Swindon, where I stayed after yesterday’s walk, seems to have quite a lot of it and much of it is pretty good. Better than covering these hoardings with advertising anyway. I have noticed in Manchester that there is a mural which is simultaneously an advert, however: corporate public art in other words…. Let us hope this trend is generally resisted.
The Uffington White Horse is 360 feet long (110m if you insist) and may be over 3,000 years old. Most of the hill figures carved into the chalk downlands of southern and eastern England are modern imitations but this is the real aboriginal deal. Like most art, it’s designed to be seen straight on, not at some oblique angle from just above its top right-hand corner. But it’s still mighty impressive. Whomever it was first dreamt this up and then managed to organise its production — I say, good for them.
For more pictures from today’s walk see my other blog.
Surely the title of this post is self-explanatory. I love it. I just wish I could remember exactly where I took this picture: it is somewhere on either Howland St or New Cavendish St, somewhere very close to the BT Tower. But I cannot find it on Google Street View (last updated in that area in about 2021) which suggests it has only been there for a couple of years. Great effect, though: and presumably functional in some form or other. Going on the way all the pipes run into it I assume this is the air-con, or possibly the pillar of the structural integrity of the superframe, or something.
Being 42 