Pulled duty on the 06:31 train out of Hebden Bridge and it was still dark by the time it finally ambled into Manchester. This looming darkness will briefly be relieved this weekend when the clocks go back, but all the same, winter draws inexorably nearer each day.
While running an errand here this lunchtime I looked up and said to Max, ‘Do you mind if I take a picture of your desk? It’s very well-lit’. And so it was. So if you wanted to know what a jeweller’s workspace looks like, here you go: somehow I might have anticipated it being more delicate-looking. But I guess some pretty heavy-duty work is required at times. As well as double portions of caffeine.
Definitely in a juke. Seen in a barbers’ shop — I really needed a haircut. A pleasingly retro moment on a pleasingly sunny day.
The weather over the last few days has been changeable to say the least, and another drenching on the way back to Victoria was avoided by taking shelter in this large tent that has taken up residency nearby. That it lived up to the promise of the sign was just a bonus. Well, it is the weekend.
Four days in a row in Manchester and as I’m there tomorrow as well for non-work reasons, this may well become only it’s second five-in-a-row stint on the blog.
I put in the Sunday afternoon challenge. Joe picked the game. Carcassonne begins.
The first class of the year, which as it usually is, is with newly appointed Manchester staff and not students. Which is why it was not quite so hard to get them talking to each other. I am pretty sure there are 42 people on this shot, fitting nicely with the (long-outdated) title of the blog… and that without too much cropping (OK, I did a bit).
A cloudscape, of sorts. Or is it an interior? The collage effect is caused by this being taken from inside (inside Halifax bus station, as it happens); the upper section is a reflection in an angled window. But how the clouds then cover the strip to to right — hmmm, I haven’t quite worked that one out yet.
The stuffed panda sits on a desk waiting to be helpful, while the two attendees wonder where everyone else has gone (answer: they’re in the lecture theatre listening to the keynote — unlike your humble photographer who bunked off that one too). It’s conference season.
26th August: my birthday. I have emerged, somewhat sluggishly, from my 40s — I am fifty years old today. Sheesh. Part of the celebrations involved a trip to the Picture House, with party bags and all, and also a guided tour of the projection booth, which was the main draw for me as despite being a movie fan I have never before been in one, the true business end of a cinema. Not that most movies still run on the sort of 35mm projector shown here; almost all are digital these days. And no, I haven’t worked out myself what is being depicted on this frame of celluloid. Some bizarre floating alien of some kind? Anyway — here’s to the next, well, probably not 50 years, but what will be, will be.
I have to write. I basically barricaded myself in the house to do so, even if only symbolically. These are the tough assignments: days in the house, working, grey and dull weather, and not even any family members around to pose for portraits. So here is the barricade, either a messy abstract of a shot or an interesting bunch of textures. What’s going on with the floor exactly, I don’t know, but that’s my house for you.
Being 42 