The defining feature of today has to be the weather. All day it was good. The first thing seen when the curtains were opened this morning was the valley below filled with a thick tendril of mist – which I did my best to capture here. The rest of the day was a glorious return to summer, much-needed after what feels like two weeks of autumn. I hope it remains like this tomorrow, for another walk, but actually, I don’t really care. I’m on my weekend.
Hebden Bridge is known for being packed full of ‘independent’ stores. This means that you can’t buy many useful things, like a pair of pants or a washing machine, but you can find five or six retailers here from whom you can buy a chamomile-scented candle shaped like a pyramid.
However, when one wants to get an otherwise reluctant child to do something with you just after school chucking-out time, the fact that we have an old, traditional sweet shop (candy store) is something of a bonus.
Manchester is technically where I work but I’m there, on average, about 40% of the working week. I don’t dislike it but I don’t have any particular identification with it either: it’s not a beautiful city like, say, Edinburgh or Amsterdam. But it has its moments. And it did give the world Joy Division.
[NB: I almost put a different picture up here, of very strange evening light as a shower came over Hebden Bridge, but that would have made it two HB sky pictures in a row. I did like the shot, however, so I’ve put it on my Flickr site.]
I was lacking inspiration today: it’d been pretty mundane (work at home, take the boy to school, cook dinner etc). But with the high winds today, the skies kept opening and closing up, and this was the best effort I could get. It’s a shame about the telephone wire, but it’s still quite a nice shot.
Joe goes back to school tomorrow after his summer vacation. On this photo you can almost see the rain still falling. Someone’s telling us, ‘That’s your summer mate. That was it, gone. It’ll be back in another three-quarters of a year.’
It was my attempt to train for a marathon in 2007 that half-destroyed my left knee: so I don’t run any more. The Wainwright walks are my compensation, so I don’t regret this, most of the time. But seeing an organised event like ‘Alice’s Run’ (named after a teenager whose premature death inspired the event) does give me occasional pangs of nostalgia and I admire the fitness and dedication of the people who do it.
