Six bridges — three of which are for pedestrians only — cross the Hebden Water in town, but Hebden Bridge is named for this one specifically, purportedly built in 1510. This is something of a stock local shot but it gives as good an impression of the general shape of the town as is available.
The heading of this post is somewhat superfluous bearing in mind this bridge. In April 2014 I took this picture from more or less the same spot, one of the touristic epicentres of London, and so not at all what it used to be in my youth etc. etc. when Camden was the place to come for your cheap, punk clothing.
Wembley FC do not play at Wembley Stadium — though you can see that from their Vale Farm ground about a mile away. Nevertheless, they give good art work, even if the subject matter, going on the dates, is a tragic one.
I don’t know whether the 19th century did outdoor seating and umbrellas in quite the same way as the Stubbings Wharf pub does in 2023, but otherwise this picture could well have been taken 150 years ago: man (with beard) waiting for nearby lock to fill, and trying to stop the boat floating away while he does so. It’s a slow way of life on the water, which I guess is why plenty of people like to live it.
The city of Chester has one of two remaining complete sets of city walls in the UK (the other is Derry). Sitting out and trying to have a quiet lunchtime beer under the famous Eastgate clock was not a plan I entertained for more than a few minutes, but at least I got a photo — which turned out much better in black and white. The first portrait orientation for a long while, too: almost all of the shots on here are now landscape, but this is an exception.
Gosh, this year of my life starts with two consecutive nights out. But then again it is a holiday weekend. We are the last ones out behind the Railway, in fact. This picture appeals purely because of the lights.
For some weeks now these guys have been pretty much the first thing seen as our curtains are opened in the morning; work to redo the roof of the Nutclough Mill has been going on forever, it seems. Rain or shine, and it was definitely rain this morning.
Across from our house, out of the road, cometh water: not necessarily a commodity in short supply in West Yorkshire but still, those of us who pay our bills do sometimes wonder what proportion of them goes to cover this kind of unnecessary wastage. The blue paint on the road and on the inspection cover above suggests the utilities company are ‘aware’: but that doesn’t mean anything in practical terms. Not the most exciting of shots, I know, but you could always see it as an abstract.
I did follow England’s efforts in this morning’s World Cup Final, but I didn’t go watch it anywhere organised, I don’t like watching football on the TV whomever is playing. But they lost, so in lieu of pictures of any celebrations, here is an indication that August might finally be giving summer a go. I don’t know what these flowers are, sorry, but there are plenty of them blooming down by the market at the moment.
Is it a happy, friendly sun or is it a grimacing demon, its head sprouting flame? I’m assuming the former. Not sure why I liked this little corner this morning, but I did. To top left, the ’42’ guy pops another tag into the blog, as well.
Being 42 