Sometimes in my more romantic fantasies of downsizing I wonder what it would be like to live on one of the barges on the Rochdale Canal — but these thoughts never last all that long before I think of the music and movie collections. If I really wanted to do it I’d probably already be doing it. The immediate neighbours would be Canada geese, too.
Whenever I walk past the new car park on Princess Street in Manchester, just north of the Mancunian Way (the shadow of which is visible), nine times out of ten there is a mysterious, anonymous white van parked in the service tunnel, as here. The metal grille in front of it adds a pointillist effect to what is basically an abstract. Yes, probably it would have been better without the shadow, but it was another sunny and warm day, so I’m not complaining too much.
In comes the 16:22 to Leeds, about as on time as it gets. It didn’t get me home at the scheduled time but that’s just natural variation in the Northern Rail time-space continuum.
Wales is the nearest bit of the world to my house that is not England. All the same, thanks to its particularly pervasive Covidnoia, it has only appeared three times on the blog in the last two years. One of these was as the background of the shot I took from the Wirral in January, and I think, in turn, that spot is the hill in the distance here. Connah’s Quay — which is where this shot was taken from — is a rather sad-looking place, oppressed as many electrical pylons as I’ve seen anywhere: shuttered up and closed down. The bridge rejects it too, taking people past it, not through it.
I’m not a fan of cars exactly, whether as objects in their own right or as subjects for photography. Actually I think they mostly get in the way. But I waive this concern for any car from about 1970 or earlier, like this Morris Minor which decorated the marina in Hebden this afternoon.
As this photo shows, it was kind of wet here today. But it was not the supposed weather Apocalypse, the ‘worst storm for decades’ if you listen to the UK media. A classic case today of how London-centric it all is. This very spot was under seven feet of water on Boxing Day 2015 for example, and on three other occasions since this blog has been running. Check the facts. Nevertheless I was still told (once again) to ‘stay at home’ and that should I disobey this order, the public services would not be responsible for my safety or well-being.
What goes down South, must come back up North again (at least, unless one wants to be paying hotel bills for an excessive length of time). I don’t know where this train was going, but I was on the 10:30 back to Leeds, and then home.
The first weekend away of the year. You can tell we’re in First Class because of the menu: stock up on the complimentary drinks and food, and the relatively small premium paid for these tickets is effectively refunded. Sometimes the food you want is even available.
Evening on Hebden Bridge station, platform 1. But am I leaving town, or coming back? That’s for me to know. Perhaps it is all the same thing in the end.
“Go back to the office!” says the Chief Clown, though going on numbers coming through Manchester Victoria in the mornings, most of the population (those who can, anyway) feel quite happy with the idea that they might make this judgment on their own. Admittedly 2pm isn’t peak time but one still might have expected a few more people around.
POSTSCRIPT: To be fair, I was browsing earlier pictures just now and found this one from almost exactly 5 years ago (25th Jan. 2017), of the same spot; and there weren’t any people on that one, either. Comparison of the two photos also shows how the light shines through exactly the same bit of the roof at this exact time of day in late January; and the photogenic consequences of this.
Railway stations often give good photo — particularly when they are massive, Victorian palaces of rail, like Crewe, which is one of the biggest provincial stations in the country. If I didn’t live on the other side of Manchester you’d almost certainly have seen this place before, as everyone changes trains here at some point. As it is, this is the place’s debut on the blog. I like the red lights reflected in the wet platform and the misty haze beyond (in fact it’s raining heavily here, as it was everywhere in north-west England, yesterday morning).
Being 42 