It’s good to have some sustenance while waiting for colleagues (and Peter is a Professor, a rank I will now almost certainly never attain) to offer their opinions on one’s writing. That paper might even get finished one of these days.
A nice combination of shapes and textures on this one I think. Not that I am commenting on James’s texture. He’s just having a fag.
There is still just under a month to go until I start teaching the latest intake, but plenty needs doing to be ready for that day. Hence the length of the morning meeting. I skulk around, visible as a shadow in the mirror, while my colleagues emerge in the direction of lunch.
5.15pm on day 5,115 and it’s the start of the 15th year of the blog. All of which is numerologically pleasing but has nothing to do with the shot, and the shot has nothing to do with my birthday as such. As the stormtrooper helmet was there, it got worn by Mark, at least for a short time. Tony looks on in his usual measured fashion.
I knew in advance that today’s shot would be taken at home in Hebden Bridge, meaning it would become the 2,000th HB shot to feature on here. Knowing also that not a great deal was going to happen on the day I thought I might as well make #HB2000 as typical as possible. Hi to Johnny and Mary therefore, who I see often enough in this spot, particularly in the summer. (In the winter we would be twenty yards to the right, and inside….)
It’s nice when my students can still impress me, and, currently, Keela’s dissertation project is certainly doing that — although I can’t tell you what it is, not for any sinister reasons but just because it’s not finished yet and not my business to tell you. But, yes, it involves virtual reality, she doesn’t wear a rig on a regular basis. I do not believe my office noticeboard has featured before so there you go, a chance to check out the randomly accumulated display of items upon it for the first, and who knows, perhaps the last time.
Pud (a.k.a. Sean) is definitely the local wizard with this machine. I mean, I try — others try — but Pud wins. Usually. Kind of like Manchester City, maybe not always, but quite a lot.
This afternoon something about the look of Geri on the other side of the pub made me think ‘white witch’ — which (witch?) is of course a compliment, white witches are the good guys. It was mostly the hair, I think.
The week ends where quite a few of them do. Neither Steve nor Dex look particularly enthused by the prospect, but the weekend remains young.
Now I’m at home, the risk is run of having nothing particularly interesting or different to photograph — and that was certainly the case today. With apologies to my friends gathered around the fire for the usual Friday evening transition, who are of course interesting (most of the time) but maybe not all that different, at least, not to me.
Being 42 