Friday 17th June 2022, 4.50pm (day 3,949)

Friday, at the end of a busy week, and the sun was out. I make no apologies for heading for the pub. Others thought the same, as depicted in my camera, and in Mark’s sunglasses.

Friday, at the end of a busy week, and the sun was out. I make no apologies for heading for the pub. Others thought the same, as depicted in my camera, and in Mark’s sunglasses.

The Beyer Building‘s exterior has featured before. It was constructed in 1887, meaning this lecture theatre basically reflects assumptions about pedagogy from 135 years ago. And it looks pretty much the same as lecture theatres still do, only with many fewer plug sockets. Alex awaits my talk at 9:30; there were a few other people in the room by the time I started (honestly).

Someone Else’s Art — but very fine it is. It doesn’t matter that her left eye is mostly replaced by the window, and the security camera totally fails to intrude, too. Great work. Sometimes even just a minor variation in one’s route to work brings new sights in view.

Respect the pollinators. This bee was giving our incipient loganberries some care and attention. It had put in a longer working day than me, anyway.

After the expanded horizons of yesterday, it was back to work today. I could have posted a pic demonstrating that I am a Pinball Wizard (all-time high score on the pub machine) but that would just have been me showing off, so let’s try to make out that I was engaged in some gainful employment. Whether the message on the pen is a metaphor or not, that’s up to you to determine.

Grey Friar, 2,536 feet high, is one of the Coniston fells of Lakeland; this picture is taken from its western side, in the Duddon Valley. The pose of the sheep was too good to ignore, though yes, maybe this would be better still without the foliage to bottom right. But I like the composition in any case. (For more from today see my Wainwrights blog.)

Clare was clearing out a drawer this afternoon, one of those corners in which obscure things gather, to re-emerge after many years. Like this small red pouch which, it turned out, contained this collection of Joe’s baby teeth — the tooth fairy came, and transferred her bounty to this place, it seems. It serves to purpose to keep them, but I totally understand why they’ve not been disposed of.

Year on year, some photogenic subjects come round: foxgloves make a regular appearance around this time of year for instance. Baby plums or apples. And here, the year’s first wild stawberries, a June staple. Enough for a bowl in the evening, with cream and sugar. Nicer than the watery cultivated version, in my opinion.

If this garage did ever offer the services suggested here, it doesn’t do so any more. This abandoned lot sits near Batley rail station, a town making its debut on the blog today, albeit unglamorously. The nob graffito is the final touch.

At the moment it’s a case of — do I sit at home all day working, or trug into Manchester and sit in my office all day? Well, at least going into Manchester gets me a bit more exercise. There always seems to be at least one person smoking outside this building on Booth Street in the city centre, no matter how early I pass by.