After yesterday’s smorgasbord of photo opportunities, today was the first photowhack for a while — that is, this was the only picture I took today. But it is representative; the plum tree is needing some serious attention at the moment. Current rates of production are over a kilogram, or 2.5 pounds, every day. If you want some plums, take them off our hands, please.
I said yesterday that grim as it was, the forecast was for improvement, and the sun duly shone on me and 309 other people who spent their Tuesday evening at the ground of Trafford FC, a few miles west of Manchester city centre. Perhaps not the biggest club located in their metropolitan borough (I’m sure most people could name the biggest if they thought about it for a minute): but a friendly one. I chose this shot today because of the excellent rim-light, but also the woman laughing in the middle. At least — I think she’s laughing.
He was inside Nightjar. I was outside, enjoying the first beer of the weekend (and also wondering whether it was about to rain). I didn’t mean to get myself into the shot as a reflection, but once I saw that I had, I decided it might be saying something about me seeing into the future…. if you get the point.
It did rain, by the way. But only a little.
He was running, mostly. A few minutes after I took this one he passed me on another lap. When I was running — this is a while ago now — I would never have thought of doing so on a Friday evening, but each to their own.
Did I mention Joe was back here for a couple of weeks? Well, here he is. The blanket was not unreasonable considering the recent weather. Great encouragement to spend an afternoon in. The movie — Gimme Shelter.
When the lady dropped off her coins, the busker immediately said he would play her a request: which she seemed quite happy about. I suppose this could be a shopping centre anywhere in Britain, but it happens to be Bury, to the north of Manchester.
Anyone prepared to do some detective work, based on the evidence of the road sign in the background, could perhaps work out where this was taken and maybe even the service on which we were travelling. But I’m sure for a summer Friday afternoon, this is too much to trouble with.
After eleven different places in eleven days it’s time to spend some time at home again. I’m still not back to work though: that can wait another week or so. Stan generally agrees with this approach to life, I feel.
The Who should have already appeared on this blog one way or another. I had tickets to see them in Manchester a few years ago and then couldn’t go for reasons I don’t even remember properly. In March 2020 we were one week, literally, away from seeing them in Leeds (Live in Leeds!) when Bojo The Clown decided that the rest of the country (but not him) had to cease all this entertainment rubbish — postponed a year, that gig was eventually cancelled too. BUT — here we are, finally, in Edinburgh Castle, watching Daltrey and Townshend do their thing. At 79 years old, Roger Daltrey understandably doesn’t leap about the stage as much as he used to but he can definitely still sing, and right at this point he is reproducing one of the best screams in rock history — the one near the end of Won’t Get Fooled Again, which is up there in my ‘top 5’ all-time great tracks.
So yes…. all in all it could be said that I had a good evening.
I don’t yet know what I’m trying to say with this picture — it may be just a random gesture on her part. Nor am I projecting, being quite happy today. I like it anyway.
Being 42 