The last time anyone other than myself or Joe was depicted on the blog was 4th January, the afternoon before Bojo the Clown put us all under house arrest again. Since then, portrait opportunities have been very rare. This can almost be considered a crowd by recent standards. Though even the dog now takes its lead from us and remains apart. Who’s going to actually start to rebuild the bridges? It won’t just happen.
Two days of more-or-less constant rain and the Hebden Water looked like this in mid-afternoon. The general approach to flood defence here still seems to be, essentially, just cross your fingers and hope.
… to pubs, or anywhere else, until Our Glorious Leader decides. The only person with whom I had a face-to-face conversation today, family members excepted, was some paranoid stoner who started hurling abuse at me as I walked to the shop. Other than that, deadness. Do we have a government — a society, even — so lacking in wit or intelligence that this is really the best we can do?
This ersatz life continues. Walking is about the only entertainment available — at least, the only one that should be depicted on here. The monument on Stoodley Pike has featured several times on this blog (follow the tag); the houses are the northern end of Heptonstall; and last week’s snow has all gone, for now.
The topography of my home town is such that many of the paths that wind up and down the particularly steep hillsides have never been turned into roads. This one winds up the steep slope of Lee Wood, past the cricket club to the road at the top. I took it today for variety: expect a lot of ‘local’ colour at this time, ‘cos local is all that’s on offer.
Hibernation continues. And it’s cold out there. Although a beautiful day today, in many ways. But I imagine few people in Britain are going to remember January 2021 at all, in the long run.
Correctly, it is owls that gather together in parliaments. But when do you ever see more than one owl together? The term seems to better fit these pigeons, sat on top of the Big Ben-style clock that graces what used to be a hotel in the centre of Hebden, now it’s apartments. Like all stopped clocks, it gives the right time twice a day.
Will the last business standing please turn off the economy? Thanks…
Without even having to be subtle about it, the moronocracy have ensured not a single pub nor place of entertainment will be open for New Year’s Eve anywhere in the UK, so I don’t feel 2020 is really ending — it will go on to infect our future for years to come. It’s going out cold, too: this was probably the coldest day of the year. This view from the upper reaches of my house has appeared on the blog many times before but it’s a useful mainstay, and on this one I like the addition of the headlights of the car caught heading up Birchcliffe Road.
A slight dusting of snow in the morning, nothing serious but in Britain it’s the kind of thing that leads to everything getting cancelled, meaning I couldn’t attend my planned football match this evening and thus get 11 different places in 11 days. There are still things to see at home, however. Which, looking back on 2020, is just as well, isn’t it?
Being 42 