Perhaps I’m spending too long indoors but this does evoke a caterpillar for me — including the cigarette, a connection maybe only subconscious when I took the shot, but which Tenniel’s Alice in Wonderland illustration makes more clear the following morning.
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.
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.
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.
Why the fans of Ashington FC turned up at today’s game (at Brighouse) dressed as chickens is a story I was told, but in some ways it is far too tragic to relate here: let us just say that it was to do with a practical joke from the past that may have gone wrong. Beyond this you do not want to know, trust me. Connection corner: this is the second time Ashington FC have made it onto tbe blog and, as the visiting team on both occasions, they were just as successful as last time — this is also the second time that, at Brighouse, there has been a picture of a grown man dressed as a chicken. What this says about me, Brighouse Town, and non-league football generally, I know not.
Half-time, time for refreshments for players and fans alike. The match we are watching is to have a great last five minutes, but all that is in the future at this point.
Time for a holiday. This one at the instigation of the wife, for various reasons, but I am happy to tag along for the ride, and for the break. You can find out the destination tomorrow, although it’s somewhere the blog has visited before. As is Terminal 5 of Heathrow airport, where we and a few thousand others waited for the beginning of the fourth leg of our journey (after two trains and the Elizabeth Line).
I went for this shot because of the illuminated cup of hot beverage to the right, and I guess it works, but yes, I would like to take out the plug sockets.
Being 42 
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