After a spell of wide-ranging vistas and skies, all I saw today was this room, reclaimed from Joe now he has returned to Scotland. The implements of a day’s work are all in place. And my hair did need a brush. Outside, just more rain, anyhow.
There really isn’t anything happening at the moment; and not a great deal to be done about this, until the weekend anyway. In the pub, our landlady feels the need to retract a statement presumably made over the Christmas period. The grammar is not mine, no complaints please.
Radiohead had a track on the Hail to the Thief album that basically screamed, ‘The raindrops!’ for a few minutes. I know the feeling. Train strikes don’t help either: there was no reason nor encouragement to leave the house today.
Taken at the same time as yesterday’s shot — and only five minutes after Monday’s. This is as near as I have ever got in 11 years to three consecutive shots at the same time of day. I swear I don’t do these things deliberately, even in the most boring periods.
Opening time at my local pub is 3pm on Tuesdays, and a nice thing about arriving early is that I get to light the well-laid fire. The lump of lava on the right is a firelighter doing its job: within a few minutes this whole construction will be alight. Sometimes the interest is in the details — such as the paper to the left, what series of numbers goes 3, 10, 50, 70, 100 I wonder?
A day spent with family. My sister Vicki pulled out this scroll before lunch: her family tree as far back as it has so far been taken — so mine too, of course. With Joe also in the room we have here fifteen generations of male line Whitworths documented, ending (thus far…) with him, and starting, at the top left of this image, with Thomas W., born in 1585 in Ashton-under-Lyne, Lancashire. The two Abrahams you also see here didn’t get out of the same place, and I must add that my father Ian was also born in Ashton (in 1944). This says a lot about the Whitworths, I feel. And as Vicki pointed out — shouldn’t we be running the place by now?
Cheesus being the name of one of the many eateries-stroke-café-cum-bars that are now, by law, the only kind of retail establishment allowed to open in Hebden Bridge. It served a fine grilled cheese sandwich for lunch, and why not a Christ reference today — it is his birthday celebration tomorrow, after all. Enjoy tomorrow, however you intend to spend it.
Two years ago, roughtly, I walked into this establishment intending to buy gifts for others and came out having spent far too much money on myself (see this post). Today I ignored its warmth and welcoming lighting; except to capture this shot, anyway.
Previous outbreaks have been mere preparation for the present implosion of uneventfulness, but once work is finished tomorrow (and, ideally, early tomrrow) for the semester, I will get out and about more. See this one as an abstract, and a homage to the fact that there’s still some good light outside — still damn cold, though.
There won’t be much excitement or variety in my life in the run-up to Christmas — but nor do I really care about this. In the undertaking of her annual task (for which I internally thank her) of sorting out our Christmas cards, Clare makes another step towards catching up Joe in the ‘all-time appearance record’ on this blog; this is her 140th pic, with Joe presently on 146. Another shot with daringly off-vertical verticals, but then again I was still in bed too.
While I did get an interesting photo of Clare today it was definitely a posed shot, and I try not to have such pictures on here. Call me a pedant but it’s always been the case (and stated on the About this Blog page) — so let’s stick with it. Instead, another picture from inside a pub, or more precisely, the bar at Brighouse Town FC. We drowned our sorrows in advance, as by half time the team were 4-1 down and it didn’t get any better after that.
Being 42 