At times in a British December it’s hard to believe there is such a thing as sunlight, so this was a welcome burst on an otherwise grey day, illuminating those of us taking a break in University Place. For once, on this shot, I don’t mind the appearance of litter bins.
No other veg is quite so purple as beetroot. Not this rich, vibrant purple that stains everything around it, anyway. And in such a grey, alien-looking container.
I have to stand up in front of a full room next week and intone the names of at least a hundred Chinese people (amongst others); so this was a professional development opportunity that was worth the time. If the recording of this session ever gets out, however, I suspect we will go viral and be a source of hilarity on Chinese social media. A dozen or so middle-aged white academics being tutored by the very patient Luxi (pictured, as she encouraged us to place our lips correctly for the first syllable of ‘Yuxuan’), mangling tones and generally embarrassing ourselves. But at least it was only a rehearsal.
Sometimes at this point in the year you wouldn’t even know there was such a thing as sunlight. All the way into campus by 8am and it’s only just getting light, making this a study in blue. While I was away this space at the front of the new Royce building has emerged from under the perpetual building site to acquire seats and tables, but I doubt anyone will be using them for a while.
My three weeks in St Helena meant that I missed out on the first decline of winter, and have thus been plunged straight back into December chill and gloom, without the initial acclimatisation. Sights like this are thus very welcome at this time. It’s only just been lit, but it’s developing nicely.
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.
On 4th December 2020, a year ago, I had my one and only day of face-to-face teaching in the whole of the academic year 2020-21. The students last year had a difficult time of it for reasons that were totally (taken) out of their control, but most of them made it through. Including Mithila, seen on the left here, who as a result of having finally received her results, invited me to have a mulled wine on her at the Christmas market. Cheers, and well done all. (And hi to the colleague too, who clearly wanted to be in on the photo as well.)
Back home, back to the grey and gloom of a northern December, the everyday of the train journey to Manchester (here at Littleborough). It had to happen. LIke the birds speckled across this shot, let’s just live with it.
It’s nice to travel, but it’s also welcome to come home. Mr Steve Grey makes at least his 10th appearance on this blog.
The flight home. The Sahara looked astonishing: this was a day when I wish I could break my own rules and post more than one photo. The River Niger certainly was worth seeing, a braid of blue and green running through a sandy wasteland. We must have crossed that somewhere in Mali.
But instead I will go with this shot; for much of the three hours it took to cross the desert I was thinking, hmmm, well it’s certainly barren, but more rocky than sandy. But then came this sea, this ocean of dunes, tinged by the setting sun. This must be far enough north to be somewhere in Algeria. Not that national boundaries really mean a lot here. If anything this is Arrakis. Had a gigantic sandworm crested out of this stuff with Fremen on its back, I would not have been surprised.
Being 42 