What small part of the world can be seen from our house, all looked like this today. With no reason to leave the house, I did not; picture opportunities were limited to using the long zoom to see what might be going on over the other side of the valley. They had their fires burning, anyway. This is also one of those shots that looks like I’ve taken it monochrome, but really have not; if anything I have beefed up the saturation a little.
A cold day today. Of course, ‘cold’ by British standards is not cold by, say, Canadian or central European standards, but we notice it in our own way. Look, someone in Royd Terrace has even lit a fire.
In an ideal world, this message would end, “…. and not just for Christmas”, but sadly it does not. Then again, it’s been up for several months now, waiting only for an otherwise opportunity-light day of photography for its chance to be shared with you, my faithful readers. So this is not the seasonal reference it may seem.
When I was in Dunedin, New Zealand, almost ten years ago, I saw a street, Baldwin Street, that claims it is the ‘World’s Steepest Street’. And it certainly was very steep, particularly at one end. However, taken as a whole, the gradient of the street from start to finish cannot have been a great deal more, and was possibly less, than Marlborough Street in Hebden Bridge, which I walk down (never up…) on occasion and can attest to the fact that it is very steep indeed. I have tried now and then to get a photo that really captures the gradient but before this one have never been happy enough to post one, however, today’s can make it. I do feel that the Guinness Book of Records people should really come and settle the question. Hebden Bridge or Dunedin? I pose the challenge. (I’m sure you know of a steeper one in Italy, say, but let me dream.)
I’ve said it before, but it’s days like today — spent entirely in my house, day 1 of the latest batch of marking — that will eventually do for this blog, will drain my creative juices dry and leave me with simply nothing to photograph. But there’s always the view. Same comments as yesterday re: the hours of darkness, only today, half an hour earlier. The car headlights coming up Birchcliffe Road, and about to turn behind the buildings, give the necessary additional touch.
9th November 2021 was the day on which I landed on St Helena. No such adventures await me this November, but then again, I don’t have to spend ten days in quarantine again. It was too nice a morning to stay indoors, wherever I was.
Clare has her daily fix of brain food, but though this particular game is on her phone, she brings it up for my entertainment. I get most of them first go, to be honest. This one’s easy: we were there, not three months ago.
After getting out and about yesterday, I kept closer to home today. But it’s also a nice part of the world. For once, I don’t object to the cars on this shot, which I think help give it a sense of scale and perspective.
Tried to get on a train today to go somewhere other than home, but when it turned up 20 minutes late and dangerously overcrowded, I remembered, only then, that Manchester United were at home (not to mention Leeds and Liverpool), and the hourly Sunday service was really not up to the job. I therefore returned home: but there were things to see on Calder Holmes Park that were just as interesting as what I might have encountered elsewhere. So the bad planning (mine, and the train company’s) didn’t matter in the end.
As I post this on Saturday, I already know that both Thursday and Friday were highly uneventful, even by recent standards. Changes to this state of lethargy are afoot, but not this week. In fact the most exciting thing to happen lately was the erection of scaffolding around our house, meaning you can climb up to have a look in our windows if you like; though we’d rather you didn’t. It’s not even for work we need doing: we are just passively wrapped in metal for a few days. That’s scaffolding two days in a row, isn’t it?
Being 42 