I’ve been saving this one up for a while; this piece of anonymous art criticism has been in place for some months now. Could he be saying the same thing about my own work? Pretentious, I hope not. Boring maybe, but that’s life.
The cherry blossom in the courtyard at work had been and gone six weeks ago, but the more exposed trees outside the White Lion in Hebden Bridge require more lead-in time to reach full flower. Still, here they are — in time to make the place look good for the Easter daytrippers.
Actually, home, in the strictest sense, is a little to the right of this shot. But this is, near enough, where I’ve located myself for the last 21.75 years. There are reasons.
I continue to not get out: this is the 9th of the last 12 pictures to be taken in Hebden Bridge and the coming weekend ain’t gonna see me explore the world much either. Today, the stall full of digital info (DVDs, CDs) at least offered a new perspective on the Friday market of which it is a part. No purchase today though: a quick review suggests that any of these I might be interested in watching, I already own (Ted, Black Swan, Gravity and I am Legend — happy hunting)…
After 11 days of 11 different places I had no need to, nor intention to, leave the house today. What you see here is what was outside our front door, with the little dollop of variety and ‘free stuff’ to sustain the interest — at least a little.
And still it rains, seemingly without end. The water race at the end of the old millpond in the woods is only rarely filled, and when it is it’s a sign we are once again in the ‘cross fingers and hope’ approach to flood defence. But the town stayed above water — today at least.
Umbra in Latin means ‘shade’, a sign that the umbrella was originally designed to protect against the sun. But this was not the application required in Hebden Bridge this afternoon. I believe this outrage against good weather can officially be termed ‘Storm Dudley’.
There have been a few of these down the years. If the owner — or the parent of the owner — wants to retrieve it, it’s up in Nutclough Woods, near the water race. Though it’s always puzzled me how someone can just lose one boot or shoe, at least, when one is out and about.
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.
I return here to a theme developed on Friday, but bear with me, it’s not an exciting time. Here we see the cones shamelessly deployed to ensure Sgt Cawood of Happy Valley always gets a parking space outside her house. I did wonder if they needed an extra for the role of “man with long coat and Brighton & Hove Albion shopping bag” but I don’t think that would have fitted the Yorkshire ambience, necessarily.
Being 42 