Six bridges — three of which are for pedestrians only — cross the Hebden Water in town, but Hebden Bridge is named for this one specifically, purportedly built in 1510. This is something of a stock local shot but it gives as good an impression of the general shape of the town as is available.
Dina was last seen in Toronto in October 2021 and, as part of a project which has been (so far) a wholly positive development but with which I won’t bore you here, has been visiting Manchester this week. Other than myself, Clare and Joe this makes her only the second person to appear on this blog in two different countries and the first on two different continents.
Christmas decorations appearing in early November, I have learned to live with. But Halloween ones appearing more than six weeks before the fact? Ah, goddamit. Society is crumbling. (This may, of course, not be a specific Halloween reference but let me grumble.)
Time to kill before the 11:00 meeting in the city centre. Tea needed to be drunk. Monochrome needed to be used to disguise the fact that this shot is basically out of focus, but losing the colour means I can go for the rustic 1960s bistro effect. Which I’m sure is how Caffe Nero wants to be seen (note: other corporate coffee bar providers are available).
This would be a marvellous sign to see at any point, but the fact that it sits on the outskirts of Bradford makes it more entertaining still, in my opinion. Not to mention the fine optical illusion evident here. Take a good look — it’s almost like one of those ‘impossible objects’ that work in two dimensions but not three.
In all the fuss about the plums this year, we risk forgetting that these equally scrumptious beauties have also had a very fine summer. I just wish that come November, our supermarket shelves won’t be stuffed with the identical product, but shipped over from Guatemala.
Scafell, on the left, is the second-highest mountain in England at 3,162 feet (964m) and even Slight Side, the pimple below the sun, is 2,499 feet, so no dwarf. I decided that ascending both was a good idea on a day which reached the high 20s Celsius, and on which breezes were just a dream, happening elsewhere. This was, perhaps, the slowest walk I have done since I was a toddler. But they were bagged. (See the Wainwrights blog for the gory details if you like.)
My last block of time before work really kicks in for the next academic year, and early September has been used before as an excuse to bugger off to the Lake District for a couple of days. In 2016, for instance, the 7th and 8th September were spent hiking out to the bothy at Mosedale Cottage. This year it was Wasdale, for four of the twelve Wainwrights I still had to do. Seatallan is one of the less exciting ones on the list, a seemingly endless grassy slope which these two walkers have nearly finished climbing, to their relief, I am sure. In the background, Black Combe.
I am late posting and after Thursday’s and Friday’s exertions, this stopover in the City Arms after work seems like a while ago. It’s best pub I’ve found in Manchester city centre though — so I know that what was being served here was a fine pint.
We have reached an officially measured total of 21.2kg/46.6 pounds of harvested plums. This is the all-time record haul since it started bearing fruit about fourteen years ago (we forget exactly). I think the insects can have their fill now, I’m feeling plummed out.
Being 42 