Roadworks on Keighley Road continue to increase in both volume and density. Soon the entire street may disappear, collapsing in on itself to form a kind of roadwork singularity, or possibly a new form of matter, which will, while largely inert, occasionally flare up into frenzied and noisy activity at, like, 7 in the morning. Having thereby woken up any sleepers in the vicinity it will then return to its inactive state for the rest of the day.
Following on from Wednesday, another picture of someone with a less-than-orthodox approach to their housing arrangements. I know of people (hi, Beth & Steve) who live permanently in such a manner but it’ll never be for me, there are too many home comforts of which I am fond and which a mobile home or narrowboat is never going to give me. But on a day when ‘independence’ might be on the minds of some, each to their own.
The picture was taken mainly because of the bright orange water of the Trent and Mersey Canal at this point (Kidsgrove, on the Staffordshire/Cheshire border). Such things are not usually a good sign. The mystery of why this colour is there was not solved until just a short while ago, as I prepared to post this by looking up some information about the Harecastle Tunnel, the north entrance of which is just visible in the background, to the left of the guys on the towpath. There is an old version of this tunnel running parallel to it that has been closed for over a century now, and apparently, leaches iron ore into the water. So it’s always orange — this is not some recent chemical spill. I don’t imagine drinking the water does anyone much good. Unless they’re anaemic I suppose.
OK, it’s not really an aquarium. But it’s more interesting to look at than the side of most delivery trucks, which I’m sure is the point.
It’s time for the annual appearance of the “Person Struggling with Umbrella” sign, and all that entails for traffic up and down the Keighley Road. I haven’t driven a car on this island since last August (the only plae I have been behind the wheel was on Ascension), and I’m just fine with that.
My Easter Saturday trip out found me in the Locomotion museum in Shildon, Co. Durham, at 10.30ish. This snowplough looks almost absurdly macho, like it’s Thor’s snowplough (Marvel Comics version). Look at the light beams that shoot off as it steams along! The watching human simply stands in awe and wonder as it zooms past. “Me? Put ME in a museum!? The impudence!”
I have returned to the UK, but thanks to the inability of the UK rail network to function at any kind of useful level on a Sunday, I still haven’t made it home. A bicycle might even have been faster — not that I can ride one, a skill I never developed. They seem to use a few in Oxford, though.
The wife was doing her latest excessively long bout of exercise, as she trains up for her second marathon in April. 22 miles today I believe. 9 miles in, our paths crossed briefly, then, off she went eastwards.
Once again, I am off somewhere different, mainly because it sustains my interest in this blog, the world, life, etc. Leg one ended at Leeds railway station, where this is taken. It occurred to me while sitting waiting for my second train to depart that I had the chance to capture this incognito shot of the driver getting ready to leave on platform 9 next door. The ‘pastel’ scribblings to the left are then the latest reflected self-portrait. Possibly, then, this is a terrible photo, but I’ll move on.
I paid £24 to guarantee a window seat for my daylight flight and then found I was sat right over the wing — and as it was an Airbus A380, the most monstrous vehicle (with two decks, and hence stairs inside), this was such a bloody large wing I got to see nothing of the land below, and hence no photos. I was confined to seat 63A for much of the flight, too, thanks to my neighbour spending almost all of the 6.5 hour journey in this position. How anyone can sleep on a plane is beyond me, even at night; I have no idea exactly what time zone we were over when I took this, but the time stamp is what my camera said, and we were really very far from it being the hours of darkness.
Being 42 