This really is as exciting as it got today. I have a multitude of papers to grade and it rained. The phenomenon of the ‘unsatisfactory orange’ is, of course, a very First World Problem, and even then, I had a substitute to hand. No endorsement of particular biscuit brands is implied: other crunchy and chocolatey snacks are available.
My first ever visit to Motherwell, in Scotland, which I can tell has been through its periods of post-war reconstruction as there’s something intrinsically 1960s about subways (I mean this in the British sense of a ‘pedestrian underpass’ rather than the American one of ‘underground railway’). There was a definite craze to build them around that time. This one’s been quite well decorated, something I probably fail to capture here.
Joe bought me a book of Indian-style recipes for Christmas. I wanted to try some tonight, but many of the more obscure spices that were suggested were beyond my kitchen’s existing remit. But we have a very good Asian food store in Hebden Bridge. Now I know what curry leaves and tamarind actually look (and smell) like. Nigella seeds proved beyond everyone, however.
Most of these bottles have been sitting on a shelf above our kitchen door since about three days after we moved in, in 2001. They looked good at the time and they’ve just never moved since. The limoncello bottle was added after we went to Rome in 2014, but I think that’s the only change. And yes, our plaster is artfully decaying.
This is one of those shots where I have deliberately not even tried with the aesthetics and gone purely for personal meaning. Anyone who knows me properly knows that for many years now, to know me has to been to know my coat. The earliest photo of me wearing it that I can find comes from February 2010 – so 18 months before this blog even started — and that means I have been wearing it for at least 14½ winters. And it is honestly true that I paid £10 for it from a charity shop in Hebden Bridge, probably in late 2009. Now that’s good value. That’s a quarter of my life it has served, for a tenner. As for appearances on here — here’s one, for example. I think that this shot in Domodedovo airport, Moscow (at 4:50am on 11/12/2011) is its earliest appearance on the blog, albeit unclearly.
However, it is now completely knackered, particularly the inner lining (see for yourself, on this shot). I am retiring it with full honours. You will probably never see it again…. And its replacement? Another long, navy blue coat … But hey. Why change style this late in life? The new one is woolier though.
Yes, I did first type ‘2023’ as the date in the heading. Don’t we all do that for a while? But 2024 it is, and as it starts off in a work sense, here’s my definite aspiration for the year expressed on the cover of the work diary I quite deliberately bought back in November sometime.
Believe me, I’m one of these middle-aged guys who has gone the other way when it comes to hair loss, and I don’t need any. Not on my head and certainly not on/in my eyebrows, ears and nose, thank you very much. But clearly there is a market for the stuff, at least among the women who shop in the Arndale Market, Manchester. And there was me thinking they did it naturally — like me (last haircut, 2/10/19 and still counting).
For the last few weeks things have been very uneventful thanks mainly to lots of work plus bad weather. Today was the first day of my Christmas break — but we still had the bad weather, and mainly for that reason, it remained uneventful. But I can sit on the bed and watch DVD double bills like this in mid-afternoon and not feel guilty. In the background, Sick Boy delivers his speech about ‘first you’ve got it, then you’ve lost it’ while Renton looks out for air rifle prey. You’ve seen Trainspotting, right?
A busy stint of work comes to an end — this is Manchester’s third appearance in a row, and that hasn’t happened since April ’22. By the end of the working day I needed a pint, and the City Arms on Kennedy Street has definitely become the Manchester Pub of Choice. I’m not the only one who thinks this either, as it’s usually busy like this, but the beer is high quality. Note the old typesetting frame stuck randomly to the ceiling. Anyway, I probably won’t be here again until well into January — my work in this specific city is done for a while.
Prof. Alexander’s bust has long graced the entrance hall of the building on Manchester’s campus that bears his name. This kind of thing happens most years, to be honest. He seems to bear it with stoic dignity. I don’t think he looks all that unhappy — a bit resigned, maybe.
Being 42 