A pleasant, sunny, but surprisingly cold Easter Monday, Hebden Bridge and all points around being swished by a breeze straight off the North Pole. Did anything biblically happen on Easter Monday? Or is it just a modern excuse to give the plebs another day off in lieu? Either way — Heptonstall was looking good, as it always does. It’s been there for a few hundred years, it’s had time to bed in.
The world — well, Hebden Bridge anyway — is getting back to it, and in these developments I can see nothing but good. We should be able to give our money to a few more retailers that have been unlucky (or unpolitically active) enough to be classed as ‘inessential’, but more important is that people are just coming out anyway.
Now here’s a fairly unique combination: witnessed on the edge of Burnley this afternoon. But as I typed the title of this post, it struck me that it sounded like one of those ‘what 3 words’ geolocation things. So I tried it, and magnificently, “goalie.pylon.llama” does correspond to a 3 x 3m square of land on South Island, New Zealand, to the west of the town of Greymouth — as this page proves. There could be a whole new game in this.
And yes, football’s back. In some ways, anyway.
Robins succeed because they’ve commandeered the ecological niche entitled ‘we really don’t give a shit about those human creatures’. We turned over a pile of compost on the allotment and this fearless chap was picking it over before we’d moved five feet back. He got the best pickings — woodlice, centipedes, worms — everything else was just in his wake. Birds! Ignore the humans! Be the robin! You’ll not regret it.
Those nice people in Authority have promised not to threaten arrest for doing something as subversive as going on a walk, on one’s own, in countryside that doesn’t happen to reside within spitting distance of home. So Joe and I went out on a walk. I bagged my 600th Wainwright and Joe, his 50th. (Full details soon to be posted on my other blog.) Both those milestones came on Wether Hill, but that is a rather unphotogenic lump — Steel Knotts, its predecessor in each sequence, was rather better. It’s appeared before on the blog, too: pictured from a distance on 6/2/17.
Anyone in Britain will tell you that the weather over the last two days has been extremely pleasant. I’m off work for a while, too. I think the relaxed appearance of these lambs is something I can identify with. Mum? Well, she’s just knackered.
As Authority has graciously agreed to let us move around a bit (not abroad though — the mind-broadening experience that is foreign travel remains denied to the majority of us, until further notice); I have some friends with whom I need to reacquaint myself. Let’s start with George, making her fourth appearance on the blog. And very pleasant it was to see her, indeed.
Even the traffic warden was somewhat bemused by this saloon ‘parked’ not only on one of the slip roads to the Mancunian Way, but across a pedestrian crossing. However, I suspect the true owners of this car are not — at this point in time — aware of it being parked there. Hey, maybe they’ll beat the tow-truck.
The rain came down, so another exciting weekend day was spent inside, thanks to Our Glorious Leaders still reckoning that indoor entertainment options will cause us all to shrivel with plague, or something. But, won’t this change as of tomorrow? My view is — don’t hold your breath.
And this movie was awful, by the way. I won’t name it. But if you can take what might have been a quite interesting plot twist and still make it as boring as the rest of the day, then that was quite an achievement.
From no direction do these rocks look particularly like a cow and its offspring, but that’s what they’re called. It doesn’t matter; it’s a dramatic spot, with the creatures grazing on the heather above the town of Ilkley, which can become the 339th different identifiable place to feature on here. No, I wasn’t at home.
