Off trundles the 17:10 to Wigan Wallgate — more-or-less on time today (in fact the trains have behaved remarkably well so far this year, at least by Northern’s standards). It’s a bit of a shame about the platform appearing in the corner but, believe me, this one was cropped as carefully as it could be without losing essential elements.
A foggy morning, but fortunately not enough to delay us nor any of the others who were planning to leave Berlin this morning. Swissair’s service was in the gate next to ours: the BA flight was there too at this point, though unseen behind the ghost.
I got out of the house, at least. One doesn’t often see trains like this, but let’s enjoy it while it lasts, and take a relaxed attitude, as this person seems to be doing.
Although not as mild as it has been, today felt like one of those Sundays where it was perfectly permissible to take it easy. And in my local area, there are worse places to do this than down by — or in these guys’ case, on — the canal.
Random railway station, number…. quite a few. The train is the one I was catching, so from this shot you can see where I was; where I was going; and how long I had to wait. In a world where all movements are tracked I might as well be honest about it.
Yes, it was a comfortably late start to the day but then again I am still teaching until 6pm on Tuesdays. Much more preferable to go in later, particularly as we are, finally, having some pleasant weather.
I was about to post a picture of the year’s first cherry blossom in Sackville Gardens, flowering above the seated statue of Alan Turing, but then I realised I had done exactly the same in both the preceding Februaries (the evidence is available at this tag). I would still like to avoid such repetition if I can — for my own self-satisfaction if nothing else — but I spent all day in the office and didn’t really capture much else. Bloke on Train with Someone Else’s Half-Completed Crossword is my best alternative. But I guess it at least records a trip to the big city. With a comfortably late start (thanks to teaching until 6pm again).
A state to which I aspire? Well, it would be nice. In fact I’m unsure I even want to be particularly busy with it. But I’m not there yet, and even if I was, I couldn’t live on a boat. At least, not one without a substantial and comfortable bathroom, which, I’m led to believe, most do not have.
For the second semester in a row I have been allocated a 4-6pm teaching slot, and, as yet, we are nowhere near far enough into the spring for me to be seeing sunsets on a Tuesday; it’s dark by the time I emerge. The walk home then begins up Brook Street, which for some time now has been consistently a traffic jam at about 6.10pm. The cause is obvious, and I’m sure all the Manchester drivers are very happy when they realise there is, as far as I can tell, nothing in particular going on in the coned-off lane.
Being 42 