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.
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.
Being 42 