The topography of my home town is such that many of the paths that wind up and down the particularly steep hillsides have never been turned into roads. This one winds up the steep slope of Lee Wood, past the cricket club to the road at the top. I took it today for variety: expect a lot of ‘local’ colour at this time, ‘cos local is all that’s on offer.
This monstrosity spent the day plonked outside the house, squatting on the pavement, a metal pile of unfriendliness. Want to walk up Keighley Road? Naaah… sod you. There should be a law against it…. Oh, there is: double yellow lines. But those are clearly of concern only to wimps and lefties.
Misty weather discouraged a walk up anywhere high, but a nine-mile stroll along the Rochdale Canal to Todmorden and back at least stretched the legs today. While not really visible on this shot, this boat did have the remnants of a ‘For Sale’ sign painted on the side; I guess by now it’s probably quite a bargain, if you’re prepared to do the salvage work.
This is Leeds railway station, at what should be peak time on a Saturday morning.
You may think this desperately depressing scene is justified and necessary. I do not. When a crime has been committed the good investigator first asks — cui bono? It means ‘who benefits’? And who does benefit from all this — if we are not travelling, not spending money in the same places we were spending it last October, seeing friends, partying in nightclubs, going to Elland Road or wherever? I name Rupert Murdoch, Jim Bezos, Mark Zuckerberg, Eric Schmidt and all their kin as people with the most profoud vested interest in keeping us locked up through the spreading of fear and this year’s sudden, digitally-driven enhancement of what Michel Foucault called the carceral state. If I’m wrong, sue me. If you don’t like it, defy it.
The Rochdale Canal has featured many times on this blog, most recently eleven days ago, near Todmorden. This shot is taken in the centre of Manchester, on Canal Street, as urban (and metrosexual) as you get, but you wouldn’t know that from this shot. When I returned past this point in the afternoon, all the leaves had gone, suggesting the lock had been opened at some point during the day — a small sign of life in what remains a mostly comatose city, just waiting for the Tory Party to take it down and stomp it underfoot for a few more weeks.
One of those where the object of interest had turned at a junction and was trotting away from me in the distance before I realised how interesting it was. But I just about got the shot. That is the way to go, is it not. And this is the second horse-drawn hearse to appear on here, the first being in London back in January 2014.
This idea of ‘underuse’ has been a recurring theme lately — but there are obvious reasons for that, and it is going to become even more the case now that uni have decided that, after all, they would rather not teach face-to-face, ‘at least’ until the end of October. Which is, conveniently, after everyone’s arrived and paid their rent. Don’t blame me — I oppose the decision, and rather vehemently too. But it seems this opinion is now in the minority.
Halifax’s transport infrastructure seems to have become a recent theme. At least, this is a sign that I am still moving around the local area, including on a Sunday. I like the complexity of the layout here, the bendiness, but tied together by the point mechanisms.