One wouldn’t think Burnley would be on a direct route from Leeds to Liverpool but the canal bearing that name does take a rather roundabout course. It’s a pastoral spot in a town that doesn’t have a reputation for rural charm. The rule of thirds works well enough on this shot.
Nearly two years ago today (9/3/20) I was in Manchester and depicting much the same area of the city, albeit from higher up. On the left of this picture, the Town Hall remains swaddled in scaffolding and Prince Albert’s memorial on the right is also still under wraps. Shortly after 9/3/20, the stupidities of lockdown began and there were only three more Manchester pictures for the subsequent five months. None of that this year, thankfully. And if anyone ever tries it again I will ignore them.
To Trek fans Vulcan is a desert planet inhabited by a race of sophisticated, logic-driven and mildly telepathic humanoids. As I discovered today, it’s also a planned village, built in Victorian times to house the workers of the Vulcan foundry, which apparently forged rails for most of northern England. It’s now slowly being swallowed up by the town of Newton-le-Willows. But if you want to pay your respects to Spock, Sarek et al, you’ll be pleased to know that there remains a Vulcan Inn and Vulcan FC as well as the white-painted rows of the houses themselves. A pleasant spot — but it did take some patience to get a shot in which there weren’t cars running up and down the street.
The evenings obviously get lighter through January — though it takes a while for the mornings to catch up. The moon is on the wax at the moment, Boris Johnson is an idiot (just thought I’d mention that) and the weekend is here.
A return to work, whatever that means these days — for me it was mainly email. But the sun was shining outside, and on the rooves of houses up the valley. 2021 was only four days old when it cranked to a halt, but things are going better for ’22 thus far. Just about.
Friday, and the last day of work before Christmas. Spent at home, but it’s all done now, and the views were good in the morning.
I haven’t done one of the Hebden housing for a while but it’s always there to catch the eye. So steeply do these dwellings rise from the valley bottom below that I am sure they affect the microclimate. I swear that at times I have seen rain falling on one side of our house — precipatated out by the enforced rise up the walls — but not on the other.
I am an educator, yes — a teacher if you like — but that doesn’t mean I hang around schools very often, if at all. This morning was an exception, however, and here’s where I spent it; St Helena’s only secondary school, opened in 1988. This is, of course, a model, which resides in the reception area, but it’s as good a way as any to get a feel for the place. The eponymous Prince visited in 1984 and obviously made a big impression on the islanders. Whether, in light of more recent events, they are thinking of changing the name, is not yet recorded.
I reckon there are five or six decent shots available that between them will encompass the view from my place of quarantine. This is the left-hand-most of them all, if you see what I mean. We are here looking west; while not very apparent on this shot, on the top of the hill is an old fort, dating from the 18th century. To the right (north), a spectacular view over Jamestown to the ocean, but you can see that another day.
While I do resent having to spend time in quarantine, particularly as I was tested not only before I flew, but at the airport, and came up (inevitably) negative both times — I accept there are worse places to do time.
I know I did other people’s art only a fortnight or so ago, in Toronto. But I’m doing it again. This mural, just outside Doncaster railway station, is magnificent — and so far as I can tell, absolutely the best-looking thing in the town. There should be more of this kind of thing. In fact, there is coming to be more of this kind of thing, and that’s good.
Being 42 