Tuesday 1st December 2015, 2.45 pm (day 1,559)
Todmorden market‘s second appearance on the blog — though I never seem to actually catch it open. Perhaps it’s just better this way.
Todmorden market‘s second appearance on the blog — though I never seem to actually catch it open. Perhaps it’s just better this way.
November, which began with an absolutely glorious day, has ended with three weeks of pretty sustained crap, weather-wise. With no light but grey, damp dullness, and a day spent almost entirely working at home, I’m having to work hard for these shots at the moment. Still, this one will do — there are lots of nice textures to explore.
I’m a regular visitor here (and even my frequency pales into insignificance compared to Clare, who goes here at least once a week on average). Tonight it was a documentary about the selling-off of the old Haçienda nightclub in Manchester. Whatever the feature, these guys will be in the foyer, one selling tickets, the other the snacks and alcohol. I stand by my assessment that this is Hebden Bridge’s best community asset.
Oh go on. I know it’s a cheat, but indulge me this once. Who knows, it might not happen again.
Man, I’m glad to get to the end of this week. I will here use other people’s art to distract myself from ranting about the trains again.
A sign of how my commuting habits have changed, basically since I had my sabbatical in Australia — this is the earliest Manchester shot in nearly three years (since 17/12/12 to be precise). God, I’m such a statto.
After two blissful days working at home, welcome back to sodding Northern Rail’s dreadful recent performance on the Calderdale line. Just to put this in perspective, over the last two weeks I have lost a total of 7 hours of my life to delays — that’s a whole working day. This is how it feels.
Posted for much the same underlying reasons as yesterday’s pic of the frosty roofscape: because the winter chill is starting to seep through these increasingly old bones, there is pleasure to be found in watching things burn. So, fire today, ice yesterday: tomorrow I might try luke-warm water. (Spinal Tap joke.)
Brrr! Definitely the coldest day of the winter so far; it is becoming increasingly hard to kid ourselves we are still in ‘autumn’.
The Campaign for Real Football might not have approved of Sky moving the kick-off of this weekend’s big game in the Championship to a Sunday lunchtime, but they could never complain about Turf Moor, Burnley. This has got to be one of the most unreconstructed pieces of Northern England remaining in existence, surely.