The Earth orbits the Sun with a tilt to its axis and every day of each year the light falls on us all in different ways. Today at 4pm was one of those points where it shines straight down the channel of the Hebden Water as it runs below the retaining wall of Keighley Road. Nice to be in the right place at the right time to see it.
Of the near-900 days I’ve been doing this blog these last two weeks have been among the least diverse, in terms of source material. Apart from two days in that time I have had nothing but fully familiar scenes, things I have seen constantly over the last 13 years. This sight, this bridge, has been one constant in my home town for the last 500 years, in fact.
From the sublime to the ridiculous, from the glorious alpine vistas of the northern Lake District to the new hole which has appeared beside the Nutclough Mill extension over the last couple of days. Yes, I was stuck in the house again, and the diggings down there are about the only source of variety on such a day.
This is the sweet shop in town, which appeared on this blog way back in its early days, 14th Sept 2011.The owner tragically died last week, in a road accident while on holiday in Thailand. RIP.
There’s not been a great deal of sun at the moment so when some emerges let’s grab as much of it as we can, with all its associated flare and everything.
I don’t claim that reality was quite as dramatic as this — I dropped the red filter on this one — but hell, who said digital photography had to always be about reality? I just massaged the raw ingredients, if you like. It’s something to pass the time while spending another day quarantined in the house. It seems I probably have German measles (rubella), by the way.
Day 888, so a neat day numerically, but I’m still laid low by whatever virus it is that has taken up residence in my body so my horizons have shrunk somewhat. What is this abstract? A footway sign, the flare from a street lamp, and steam from a neighbour’s heating vent illuminated by the traffic light behind.
Very useful on some Friday nights, after you celebrate the end of the week at the pub, or possibly at the Moshi Monsters movie at the cinema next door.
A reasonable proportion of the population of Hebden Bridge live on the water, specifically, the Rochdale Canal. These private moorings spread along the canal for a few hundred yards in the direction of Mytholmroyd (to where I was walking this morning, dodging the muddy puddles on the towpath).
Another very pleasant day, though I was stuck inside grading papers most of the day. But the view is compensation. I’d say I was lucky to have it, but you know, I’m not a total idiot. I mean, we did buy the place.
Being 42 