Our Glorious Leaders often tell us how important it is that we are ‘entrepreneurial’, demanding we assimilate a system of meaning in which only if it is for sale, does it have value. This guy has clearly taken this on board: if I am not mistaken that is a wheelie bin that has been converted into his place of business. It’s not as comprehensive as what might found in the Arndale itself but perhaps he is working on it.
One could speculate as to just what it is that drives these two guys out on a Sunday morning to spend 90 minutes watching unimportant sporting events but, of course, these days I am just like them. In the background, Wainhouse Tower, apparently the world’s tallest folly, makes its fourth appearance on the blog, allowing this shot to be pinpointed to Halifax. No one was coping all that well with a strong wind, which is why this latest cross has gone over harmlessly and miles off target.
The Lostock Arms, just outside the railway station of Lostock near Bolton, may once have been a busy and thriving place — but it obviously wasn’t busy enough, in the long run. I have no idea how long it has been closed but the longer it does stay empty, the more work it’ll need to return to life. Probably it is caught in some kind of planning limbo: there are a couple of old pubs along the A646 through the Calder Valley that have been in this state for a quarter of a century now (like the Woodman in Charlestown). As a society we seem no better at using our building stock in efficient ways than we do most other aspects of our environment.
The Rochdale Canal was opened in 1804, so is 222 years old this year. It was closed from 1952 but fully reopened again in 2002. And that means it needs some work now and again, as is currently evident in the centre of Manchester, Canal Street lock having been drained and undergoing a rebuild at the moment.
Having mentioned my cameras yesterday, be it noted that our washing machine expired instantaneously last week, virtually exploding in the middle of its final spin (I thought a pneuamatic drill had started up outside). We need a new one, and in such circumstances round here, Domestic Discounts in Halifax (advt.) is the place to go. They do have some newer models than these ones. I like their 1950s robot look: but, I suppose, robots is what they are, machines to do our labour for us — though the auto-mangle has not yet been invented.
Most of my previous cameras have died more-or-less instaneously, but the present one is going more for the long, slow death. It stops working — the zoom lens, always that — but if I leave it overnight it seems able to drag itself into some kind of action again the next day, at least so far. (A bit like its owner, at the moment.) It was just after lunch today when I checked its status and it did, indeed, revive once more. At this point in time Clare was standing as you see her and so this is a technical test as much as anything else. But, still, the best photo taken today. C hasn’t been seen on the blog since Halloween, so it’s about time she returned.
I was about to post a picture of the year’s first cherry blossom in Sackville Gardens, flowering above the seated statue of Alan Turing, but then I realised I had done exactly the same in both the preceding Februaries (the evidence is available at this tag). I would still like to avoid such repetition if I can — for my own self-satisfaction if nothing else — but I spent all day in the office and didn’t really capture much else. Bloke on Train with Someone Else’s Half-Completed Crossword is my best alternative. But I guess it at least records a trip to the big city. With a comfortably late start (thanks to teaching until 6pm again).
A state to which I aspire? Well, it would be nice. In fact I’m unsure I even want to be particularly busy with it. But I’m not there yet, and even if I was, I couldn’t live on a boat. At least, not one without a substantial and comfortable bathroom, which, I’m led to believe, most do not have.
It may seem surprising that these seats were not filled for a Merseyside derby, but this was Liverpool v Everton in the Women’s FA Cup, and also not being played in the city of Liverpool but in the stadium of St Helens rugby league team. There was a reasonable crowd packed into one side of the ground but the other three stands were mostly left empty. Someone’s still got to be ready to retrieve the balls, though. Or maybe this guy’s simply taking a break and hoping no one’s noticed.
This shot could be in sharper focus, but never mind, I like its repetitive character.
Until recently this was a field. Now, see for yourself. Soon, it seems, this will be “Heather” (sic); touted on the nearby advertising board as “Original Housing for Modern Lifestyles”, which is as bland and meaningless a piece of blurb as I’ve ever read (tell me just what will be ‘original’ about it all, and we’ll start from there). By the time they’re done I guess they hope someone will still be able to afford to buy them.
Being 42 