Whatever is cooking away under the lids, I have no idea, but as with every Sunday, the general miscellany of the market on St George’s Square proves attractive. Food, trinkets, old military uniforms — nothing as useful as a pair of shoelaces though. For such things, we are forced to leave town.
Back to work — for a day, anyway. This photo is very low quality thanks to being taken through not one, but two windows, but I couldn’t resist capturing it. In Doctor Who the evil Cybermen, half-organic, half-robot, always had these headphone-like contraptions clamped to their heads. The attendees at whatever conference sub-group was happening in University Place this morning were clearly wanting to try out the look; what’s more, they seem to be offering a rather Irish take on it.
C is here to run in the Midnight Sun half-marathon, talking place Saturday night, and was obliged to pick up her number today. Along with ten thousand other people, it seems. Well done to the people sorting through all those bits of paper with RFD tags stuck on them.
This is a self-portrait — logically I will be on it somewhere, and you may discern me under the red umbrella nearest to this shiny ball thing. I’m in the garden early — but then again I started work early (7:45) and sat upstairs marking for several hours. Semester 2 is now officially done, though, as far as I am concerned.
Today was a public holiday, although whether this was actually being observed in Scotland was a matter of opinion (Joe had a class at uni today for instance). Either way, on a sunny day, work didn’t seem like a priority, and I was certainly not the only one taking some form of outdoor exercise this morning. If you find this place on a map (the glen in question being Campsie Glen) you will be able to work out where I and this gentleman took it. But not at this specific point in time. I was just setting out, but he could be at any point in his day.
One of those occasions where it’s a case of — yes, I’ll go with that. There is nothing more to be said.
There’s something terribly familiar about this scene (and there’s me just noticing that ‘familiar’ and ‘family’ have the same root). Only it doesn’t happen all that much any more: this is Joe’s first appearance on the blog since our Christmas trip to Dundee, and his first in Hebden Bridge since early August. We did spend some time talking to each other, by the way.
Out there, there might have been some news going on, but I was having nothing to do with it. It was the last day of my teaching semester, so I hauled myself into Manchester once more, managed a couple of shots in the vicinity of Victoria station, and that was it. This one is a combo of colours, shapes and hair. Yes, the post is annoying, but I’ve already cropped out quite a chunk so in it stays.
Professor Ernest Rutherford, originally from New Zealand, was awarded the Nobel Prize in 1908 even before he conducted, with Hans Geiger and Ernest Marsden, the famous experiment where a bunch of alpha particles were fired at a sheet of gold and some of them bounced back, which Rutherford allegedly said was like firing a missile at a sheet of tissue paper and having it come back and hit you. From this was established the existence of the atomic nucleus, not to mention the original Geiger counter. For this reason Prof Rutherford is one of those former ‘Employees of the Month’ that the University of Manchester likes to big up. But in this case, why not? (Incidentally the room in which this experiment took place is still there, although no longer a laboratory — last time I looked it could be booked as a meeting room.)
Being 42 