The Butchers’ Arms is a football ground, home to Droylsden FC of east Manchester, but there is no intention to class this as a football-related shot. I am pleased with this one because it was the shot I wanted to capture when I pressed the shutter — and it’s always nice when it works out that way, particularly in the evening when there’s not much light to work with. The lonely ‘Book Your Party’ sign is definitely part of the composition.
A metaphor of some kind? Quite possibly. We are all waiting for something. But at least the sun was shining on Hebden Bridge station this morning.
Several public houses premises in and around Hebden Bridge have lain empty for years. This is the old Crown Inn in the town centre: at my back as I took this photo was Marshall’s Bar; neither of them made it through 2020 and have remained closed and empty since. Some pubs on the approach roads to town (like the Woodsman Inn) have been lying derelict for two decades now. Yet the contradictions of the property market are such that it seems now, by law, only new café-bars and restaurants are allowed to open in the town. It is clearly cheaper and more desirable to convert a former bank into a pub than convert a former pub into a reopened pub.
A pleasant day for sure. Long may it last (it probably won’t). I’m sure the dogs appreciate it just as much as the walkers do.
Halifax town centre lies hard up against a very steep hill that mostly cuts it off very sharply. But this being Yorkshire, some buildings still manage to cling to the slopes. I imagine that safety fence is needed for various reasons.
This was not specifically a photo of the bus station, which is crowned by the scaffolded tower seen here, but it does prompt me to note that this still isn’t finished after what feels like about two years of reconstruction. The last photo of the old version of Halifax bus station was taken at the end of 2021. It’s now partly in use, admittedly, but the works are definitely still going on… it’ll be nice when it’s done, but will it ever be?
Since I last passed this way in October, this particular piece of random art has acquired a head — and a rather demonic head it is, at least to my eyes. Impressive though. What this is, and why it sits in a yard next to Low Moor railway station, I still have no idea.
A quick return to the same point in space as depicted last Thursday, but now from the other direction. One of the two guys who’ve recently been scrambling about on our roof, fifty feet up — I hope to all hell that I never have to get on it — waves his arse into our bedroom window. But such behaviour can be excused, seeing as the guttering’s finally being sorted out.
Hardly the most sumptuous shot. photographically, but it suffices to represent a day spent entirely in the local vicinity. It’s getting lighter in the evenings, as it always will at this time of year, but not yet past 6pm.
Scaffolding: it’s everywhere. Just as you think it might be diminishing its spread, you look away for a moment and then it’s right on top of you. Literally, for us this morning, and for however long it takes some guys to use it to fix our leaky roof.
Definitely the first full cherry blossom sighting of the year, sprouting in the nicely sheltered urban heat reservoir that is Sackville Gardens, Manchester. Dr. Turing’s statue looks rather content to be there, as it usually does.
Being 42 