Sunday 15th September 2019, 2.30pm (day 2,943)
On the train down to London. Both of these guys needed a rest after a weekend with the (grand)parents, it seems.
The end of a week, and some relaxation time was definitely called for. This one spot outside Calan’s holds the sunshine for as long as is becoming possible at this time of year, as the days decline. Clare makes the most of this, even though (and she did pre-approve the use of this pic) it does make her look like she is sporting some fine sideburns.
This will be the last day for a while I see the Manchester campus in any form of peaceful state. The erection of this marquee today is just one sign that from the next time I’m there, on Tuesday, there will be people. Thousands upon thousands of them.
I wonder whether now I have hit 50 that I am going to start seeing any aspect of the world differently. It won’t happen overnight of course, but maybe changes in my worldview will become more apparent. Here’s an example. I certainly understand this guy’s attitude rather more than I might have in the past.
Two milestones today. First, this is Clare’s 100th appearance on the blog: thus, an (easily enough calculated) average of once every 29.22 days, or over once per month. Well, I did marry the woman — and it seems to have been a good move.
Second; 8 x 365 = 2,920, plus two more for Feb 29th 2012 and 2016. Thus, 2,922 days marks the end of my eighth full year of doing this blog. Tomorrow is my birthday. I started the blog on my 42nd birthday…. so you do the maths.
Gaz is a Railway regular, and given enough time and my patience probably all who drink in there regularly have been, or will get, on here at some point. I like this shot, with the glasses behind. It does him justice I think; he’s a nice chap.
In all the eight years (minus a week) that I have been doing this blog there have been various selfies and shots of Joe — but we’ve never been captured together. Until tonight. Other than the slightly grubby glass in which we’re being reflected, I quite like this shot. To the right, the ferals gather at one end of Halifax bus station, being told off by some security guard who calls one of them a ‘scrote’ every few seconds. Meanwhile I ponder the fact that I’ve entered the last week of my 40s.
The substitutes and manager of Easington Sports FC look rather morose here but then again they are coming to the end of a rather limp 3-0 defeat at the ground of their hosts, Bishops’ Cleeve FC. I like this shot because of the pallette, the rustic hay bales in the background and finally because of their semi-formal, portrait-style arrangement. The ground has only been there since 2002, but there’s something timeless about it.