“God’s Own Junkyard” — and that’s its official name — is a bar/café in Walthamstow, London, but that doesn’t even begin to describe it. In fact it’s a museum of neon; what you see here is barely 1% of the whole stock. I wonder what their electricity bill is like.
The first weekend away of the year. You can tell we’re in First Class because of the menu: stock up on the complimentary drinks and food, and the relatively small premium paid for these tickets is effectively refunded. Sometimes the food you want is even available.
The Emley Moor TV transmitting station can be seen from almost everywhere in West Yorkshire, particularly anywhere even vaguely elevated: but then again, that’s the reason why it was built where it was. It’s still the tallest free-standing structure in Britain. Except that it has a companion at the moment; a temporary mast designed to take the load while repairs are conducted, apparently. Yes, I am frustrated by the electricity wires on this shot but this was another day with not much to see, so I’m taking what’s there.
My friend Geri was one of the very first people to appear on this blog: that’s her in the foreground of the shot of Joe on day 9. In the intervening time she, like me and everyone else, has got ten years and nearly five months older, and in her case that has led, today, to a birthday with a 0 on the end — though I will spare her blushes by not specifying which one. We’re still in the same place, however: not just the same pub, but the same room. Happy birthday to her.
Evening on Hebden Bridge station, platform 1. But am I leaving town, or coming back? That’s for me to know. Perhaps it is all the same thing in the end.
I return here to a theme developed on Friday, but bear with me, it’s not an exciting time. Here we see the cones shamelessly deployed to ensure Sgt Cawood of Happy Valley always gets a parking space outside her house. I did wonder if they needed an extra for the role of “man with long coat and Brighton & Hove Albion shopping bag” but I don’t think that would have fitted the Yorkshire ambience, necessarily.
The Sunday market in Hebden Bridge is a significant contributor to the fact that Sundays are probably the busiest day in town, at least, when it’s not raining. There are some varied combinations possible — like here, Italian food and the dog-related stall next door to one another.
OK, it’s a picture taken at the football again but it’s not of the football, this is a portrait of the gentleman on the right. With his shirt and tie, shooting stick, bag filled with something mysterious and impressive head of white hair, I guess I sort of aspire to be him in, say, twenty-five more years. Will this blog still be going in 2047? Will I? We don’t know either way, and I suppose that’s the point of life.
Those of you who enjoyed the previous two series of Happy Valley (and the first, at least, was excellent), be assured that a third series is on the way; no one in Hebden Bridge could have failed to appreciate this today.
One of the things that was good about the series was that it was all filmed on location in Calderdale, and extremely authentic: people used the right local names for things, for example (like calling Todmorden “Tod”, which everyone does). As this light was shining up Hangingroyd Lane this afternoon I assume that Sgt. Cawood is still going to be depicted as living at no. 29, so probably the one little bit of fiction will be retained — in the series, she can always get a parking space right outside her house, in the centre of town. Yeah…. right.
“Go back to the office!” says the Chief Clown, though going on numbers coming through Manchester Victoria in the mornings, most of the population (those who can, anyway) feel quite happy with the idea that they might make this judgment on their own. Admittedly 2pm isn’t peak time but one still might have expected a few more people around.
POSTSCRIPT: To be fair, I was browsing earlier pictures just now and found this one from almost exactly 5 years ago (25th Jan. 2017), of the same spot; and there weren’t any people on that one, either. Comparison of the two photos also shows how the light shines through exactly the same bit of the roof at this exact time of day in late January; and the photogenic consequences of this.
Being 42 