Normally I would object to photos with bins and boxes in them but, you see, this only looks like a grit bin. In fact, like that luggage trolley sticking out of the wall of King’s Cross on its way to Hogwarts, it is actually on its way to another dimension. The guy’s parallel self also makes a fleeting, fragmented appearance. All I need to do is step to the left, melt through the mirror and I can be there too…..
Pleasant, dare I even say springlike, weather in Hebden this morning deluded me into going out inadequately dressed for the wintry crud which then afflicted Manchester all day. This shot was taken from my office window, looking down: minimising time outside seemed to be a good move all round. The bike rack is noticeably unused, too.
A trip out to the furthest south-western extremity of the British Isles (assuming we treat Ireland as separate) — namely the Isles of Scilly, a hundred or so lumps of granite stuck thirty miles off Land’s End, of which five are inhabited. The ‘capital’, Hugh Town, is located on St Mary’s island, and built on a narrow isthmus, which is apparent here thanks to the houses having blue sea behind them as well as in front, which is why I chose this picture — that, and the profusion of coloured things (buoys?) in the sea.
That’s one of the harder-to-reach County Tops bagged as well. There were lots of photos from the day I could have chosen to give an impression of this distant part of my country, but see the other blog for more.
This photo is garish and could certainly be sharper but with my camera in the state it is presently in (following the still-painful St Helena Tarmac Incident) it is as good as we’re going to get at the moment, after dark. I like the picture anyway: first, it represents that moment that I finally got to have some fresh air after nearly 11 hours on three separate trains today (none of which had on-board catering) and second, that I arrived in what is both the most southerly and most westerly decent-sized town in Britain, namely Penzance, Cornwall. Where you get to see palm trees outside the bus station. We’re not in Yorkshire any more, Toto.
Norway remains third in the ranks of most-depicted country on this blog, behind only England and Australia, but it’s a while since I’ve been there — four years and ten months in fact (26/4/2018 was its last appearance). I should rectify this. In the meantime, it seems as if Norway is willing to come to Hebden Bridge: why this flag was planted in the square amongst the usual Sunday crowd of visitors, I do not know, but there it is.
I don’t know why I at first chose to point my camera at this wall (on Abingdon Street in Manchester). It was only after uploading the shot that I noticed the very evident face on the cigarette bin. Kind of spooky, in fact: an inanimate object with a secret inner life, if ever there was one.
Life at the moment is having its uneventful spells, and this is the middle of one of them. But at least the immediate locality continues to provide sufficient photo opportunities.
After an acutely stressful journey home last night I had no desire to get on a train today, so picked up my usual entertainments as close to home as is possible. The Yorkshire Amateur League game on the park got some passing attention from others, but no one stuck around for very long — as you can doubtless tell, it was a damp experience. Even I gave up after an hour or so and went somewhere warmer and drier (namely, the pub).
Chosen as much because this was the year’s first outbreak of cherry blossom — at least, in my sight. The position of the photographer on this shot was carefully chosen — Alan Turing’s statue is visible, the litter bin is artfully concealed.
With a less-than-functional camera at the moment (I have not mentioned on here the St Helena Tarmac Incident), and a week at home mostly spent sat on my arse somewhere or other, reading/marking/reading, it’s felt an effort lately to get interesting pictures. This one’s alright I guess, but it’s a very familiar scene.
Being 42 