One could say it’s a paradox that we have chosen to help sustain the good health of the public by closing pretty much all the facilities which exist to help one stay healthy. But it’s not a paradox — it’s simply evidence of how bollixed up everything is at the moment.
Another photowhack — they are coming (relatively) thick and fast under lockdown. I like the random arrangement of rectangles, but perhaps I am reaching.
The white dots that speckle this whole image are not the result of some camera fault. They are dandelion seeds, storms of which blew over Hebden Bridge this evening, as they have for a few days now. The warm, dry weather is bringing them out but also, this year, there are not so many lawns being mowed regularly — not the public ones, anyway. Perfect conditions for them, then. There will be some allergies being born at the moment I can tell you.
On Sunday our glorious leader Mr. Johnson will apparently announce, well, something: as eagerly awaited as the (absent) football results, this speech will define our fate for the next few weeks. My prediction — we will be let out to work, but not to play, a conclusion I somehow try to illustrate with these taped-up swings in the nearby playground. But who will admit that play creates work…. one of those ‘non-essential’ elements driving the economy and giving meaning to our lives? You can’t have one without the other.
I love the individuality of these chimeny pots, and the different characteristics of each of the groups. The four on the right are definitely having a conversation, the leftmost of the four turning to the others as it mutters some choice gossip.
As predicted yesterday, the weather did change, into cold, damp greyeness. All very depressing, especially at the moment. It’d be nice to think this shop can open soon and restart its sale, but it ain’t gonna be next week or anything, is it. Meanwhile, the ducks get on with life and wonder what the jackdaw wants out of them: an alliance against the pigeons maybe?
I haven’t been producing many photos lately for understandable reasons but this is the first time since lockdown began (March 17th basically) that I have managed a photowhack — meaning, this was the only photo taken today.
After yesterday’s observation about the recent paucity of evening shots, here’s another evening shot. It’s been a while since the skies have been interesting enough to warrant a reappearance of the ‘back of the house’ view: they’ve been blue and sunny, but bland. Perhaps tonight’s display is one sign of an imminent change in the weather.
Except for the guys on the screen last Sunday, people have been absent from the blog for many days now, so let’s rectify that today to make us remember that humanity has not yet quite given up the ghost. Would this have been better, or worse, had the weather been poor? I suspect worse. At least this guy’s approach to boosting his vitamin D levels — the chair, the can of Carlsberg — is still available to us.
That ominous crumbling, shattering sound you hear from behind closed doors is your local economy. This square, on a Saturday morning, should not be inhabited only by ducks. And even they’re missing their usual benefits. These two were responding to a rumour that bread was being handed out by the old bridge.
For obvious reasons none of the present run of photos are being taken very far away from one another. This one looks across the valley of the Nutclough Woods, above our house, towards the two churches of Heptonstall, one extant and one ruined: they share a churchyard, and look further apart on this shot than they are in reality. The yellow stuff? Not sure of the exact species, but the buds confirm that spring is on its way, out there in the world where we used to play.
This day last year I was in Singapore. Horizons are rather more limited in late March 2020, for all of us I imagine. I acknowledge, however, that I am one of the lucky ones in that this landscape resides a few minutes’ walk from my house and at least here, one can be immersed in the countryside for a time each day: like this father and son, taking the air. Cooler today, though: it is inevitable that the run of good weather we have been having will end, but confinement will be harder to take once the sunshine ends.
Being 42 