West Yorkshire is finally getting some rain. Although I’m not sure it was falling at the specific point this picture was taken — but what does she care? She has the shelter exactly as she wants it, and is quite comfortable, thank you very much.
On we go with year 16…. Now I have reached the advanced age I have, spending my birthday evening at non-league football seems quite the right way of going about things. And on such occasions, the substitutes’ benches are often good sources of portraiture. There is a mixture of enthusiasm, indifference and boredom on these faces, and we are only 10 minutes into the game, I’m not even sure how many of these guys eventually made it onto the pitch. But at least it was a win, and for those of us who have been watching Brighouse Town recently, there haven’t been a great many of those in recent seasons.
Maybe not perfect, but definitely a potential case of right clothes, right light, right timing. The River Grille can get its free advertising despite its wholly unnecessary extra E.
I await the 12:07 train to Retford, they are presumably about to get on the 12:10 to Sheffield and Leeds. I took this from in the exact same position on the opposite platform, that is, sat on the edge of a flower bed under the footbridge: which explains why, for once, I think all the angles and perspectives are exactly right, not to mention their legs and heads lining up very well. There’s the mobile phone, of course, but we can’t have everything.
There are seven potential spectators in this picture, all present at Llanfairfechan Town FC in the later stages of a Welsh Cup Qualifying Round tie — five human and two canine. Fairly obviously, three of them are definitely watching the action, and they ain’t the three guys in the middle.
I hope they did pay attention in the end, because this turned out to be one of the better football matches I have ever seen. When this shot was taken the visitors were 5-2 up, but the final score — Llanfairfechan Town 5, FC Queen’s Park 5.
It’s graduation season. Bearing in mind that the very minimum one needs to spend to get a degree from my august institution is in five figures, and for a 3-year undergraduate programme it is now approaching £30K (more, if you are an international student) just in fees — you’d think the UoM might just give them their gowns to keep, as with a wedding dress. But no.
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.
Being 42 
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