As this blog cycles (seemingly endlessly) around the calendar there are certain fixed points, and 26th October is one of them — Clare’s birthday. Here she is celebrating it with lunch in the White Lion — her parents, my in-laws, unseen to the left. Happy happies to her: I shall demur from reporting the exact number, but it’s several years fewer than me, anyway.
These two certainly look like they’re having a jolly time on their respective Saturday lunchtimes in Hebden Bridge. But perhaps they just feel about Halloween much the same as I do — it’s intrusive and over-the-top, and we could probably do without it.
These are the people I have come all the way to Toronto to work with — because we all decided, no, we are not going to sit and try to interact behind screens. We needed to work together. Ahmad on the left, Dina on the right. They look kinda happy about the prospect, as I was.
Do I spend too much time in bars and cafés? Maybe it’s whatever Mediterranean genes I have in me. I was working, honest. This is a photowhack — the only picture I took today.
I regret the fact that they all still feel the need to wear a mask. I regret that so many of them have not yet been able to arrive, thanks largely to airlines ripping them off and governments (worldwide) still using Covid as an excuse to be mean to foreigners. But I’m still glad they’re here. This is only the second day in more than 18 months — the first being 4th December 2020 — in which I’ve been able to hold a face-to-face class. There seemed to be some work going on at this point.
The gentleman with the somewhat alien purple hue and the ‘P’ branded on his forehead (this is what happens when you sit in front of the data projector) is Andy Burnham, the elected Mayor of Greater Manchester. For a politician, he spoke a reasonable amount of sense at the meeting I attended today. 40 people in a room, about the same number attending online — all expressing freedom of choice either way. Seems fair enough to me.
The beginning of what will probably be a trilogy of pictures. On Saturday Joe leaves home — at least for university, in Dundee. We took him out for dinner tonight, not very far away (hence this also becomes the 1,500th Hebden Bridge picture to feature on the blog). Of course I sincerely hope this will not be his ‘last supper’. But whether he will ever live here again in the truly permanent sense that he has for the last 18 years, five months and five days (he has never lived in any other house than he does now) — who knows… But that’s the thing about the future, isn’t it? Who knows?
As I move inexorably towards my dotage there are increasing signs that I am basically losing it, including the fact that I had a relatively serious conversation today with a six-foot-high chicken in a Bradford City shirt. Sorry — not a chicken, officially this is a bantam. What was it/he doing at Brighouse Town FC today? Well, that’s mainly what the conversation was about.
One reason I went to Manchester yesterday was to buy a new camera. Since the pic of North Queensferry, after which the lens motor of the last one seized up permanently, I’ve been on emergency (and inadequate) backup. Three years of usage every day seems the usual lifespan of these devices at the present time. I have gone back to a more compact model — it’s just easier to carry around all the time — and until further notice what you see on here will be taken with a Canon Power Shot SX740 HS.
Here’s its debut on the blog — chosen because it was the photo taken today that most made me smile. Freedom of expression works in both directions.
Here’s how I begin this 11th year of blogging, my 53rd of life. In monochrome and with a shaving cut. It’s been a good birthday.
This is the eleventh time that 26th August has cycled round on this blog. Including today, the last four, photographically anyway, have been spent in Hebden Bridge, with 26/8/17 (in Urbana, Illinois) the last time I spent my birthday away from home. This is also the 50th self-portrait of some kind or another to feature on here.
