For those drinkers that prefer to start earlier, 7.15pm is getting towards the hazy stage of the evening. Whatever party was going on in the other room, at this point it spilled out into our part of the pub, at least for a short time.
It’s all over. In the rain that came down for most of the second half, the players of Ashington celebrate with their travelling fans, having won the play-off match 3-0. They get promoted, while hosts Glossop North End are relegated. Number 12 feels the pain.
And so, the trip back from London, and that invariably means King’s Cross is the departure point. I quite like the Giraffe café, on the balcony above the concourse — it’s a fairly agreeable railway station all round, in fact. Maybe the guy eating the sandwich might feel his depiction is a little unflattering but at least it catches the lunchtime moment.
Everyone grows up, even Hell’s Angels. Every Sunday there will be some motorcycle club or other relaxing in the square. This lot had better gear than most.
I know I’ve mentioned this before but the station buffet and bar at Stalybridge really is one of the best there is: it’s worth breaking a journey there just to visit it. And here’s the bloke in charge. Clare was mildly peeved there was no lunch to be had today but other than that it kept up its reputation.
Considering that the game being watched involved women footballers, this guy might not even have turned up to play: perhaps he just likes wearing the kit. Dialect note: ‘Eyup’ is Yorkshire for ‘hello’ or ‘what’s happening’.
I don’t feel that I have captured the social aspects of this city, which are considerable, and pleasant. What a nice place, perhaps I will never be back before I die, but if not — (as with many other places, like Saigon and Tallinn and Berlin) — that will be a shame. Viva Barcelona. There are many worse places to hang out.
And so ends February 2023, a varied month for me, some very interesting periods and some deadly dull ones. Photographically, it ends in a pub on Stoke-on-Trent station, mainly for lighting reasons. Though the beer was quite good too.
So little time do I spend on campus these days that I had not noticed the great exhibition of old Manchester rock scene photographs in the main canteen, in University Place. Some superb pictures: notice Ian Curtis to bottom left, the rest of Joy Division above, and then Tony Wilson, Peter Saville and Alan Erasmus (Factory Records more or less) under the relevant sign.
Fantastic to look at; but I wonder whether it’s wasted on the students, most of whom, let’s face it, have been born since 2000 AD and unless they have very cool parents haven’t the slightest idea who Joy Division are or ever were — particularly if they come from China. It’s not a value judgment.
Had two portraits, of people seen incidentally while passing, that I liked today. This one won mainly by virtue of being in focus, but I did like the other too. She is an elegant presence on Harrogate station, though I shiould add, had just been told off by the staff for vaping. It happens to the best of us.
Being 42 