Most of Hebden Bridge was built over a fairly short span of years in the later 19th century. Of the houses from that time, these ones on Birchcliffe Road are the grandest. And when the sun goes down and you see they are the last homes in town to catch the light — you can see why the nobs of 1880 coveted this particular hillside.
Bloody hell. How quickly did all that happen. How quickly did we let it all happen.
I spent my whole morning working out then posting my professional and academic opinion about the last few days. By the time I’d done that, I was, frankly, freaked out, so had to get out into the town just to see that it was still there, that it had not been consumed by the zombie apocalypse. And I was reassured. But bearing in mind that this poster has been up since a couple of days after the floods of February — then how much more can my home town take. How much more can we all take?
The media are not reality though. Talk to each other, folks.
Another photo of Manchester buildings looking dramatic; but from a new angle, taken from a meeting room in a building never before visited. The framing isn’t quite what it could be, but much different and the flourescent strips inside would have been reflected in the clouds. As it is, there’s one there — but I’m sure you will let that pass. The dominant building is the Town Hall, the direction of the view basically westwards.
I have tried to stop making a habit of working on Sundays, but there was no avoiding it today — and on campus, too, meaning I drove in to work for only the fourth time in fifteen years. There is something post-apocalyptic about campus on a Sunday — but seeing as we might all be quarantied at some point soon, maybe it’ll look like this from this point on.
I am very unsure that I would have such seemingly nonchalant faith in engineering as these guys. Nor that I would function well in a job that required me to put my faith to the test very often. But that is one reason why I do not have such a job.
Having finally arrived, at least to some degree, winter sustains its grip. I was not in this pub (the Old Gate) at just after noon, I can assure you — but I took advantage of the shelter offered by its outside awnings as another revolting hail storm swept by. While there, I mused on what a too-literal interpretation of the sign might indicate: a dry world beyond the present one? Hmmm.
The blog’s third 29th February. Like 2012 and 2016’s, I didn’t really get up to anything very exciting to mark the extra day: I didn’t even visit any of the attractions noted on this signpost outside Blackburn station, but I took the picture because I liked the look of the canopy roof.
I seem to remember praising January 2020 for its weather, and I stand by that. February 2020 on the other hand — that can piss right off, frankly. And this year we get an extra day of it.
Windsor Road, with its distinctive steepness and stepped houses, has featured on here before — twice in fact — but not quite as pleasingly as today, thanks to another thin layer of snow in the morning. Third time can be the charm, then.
This picture is out of focus, yes — but it is as good a portrait as I can offer of this particular friend, on this day. I have had a run of portraits recently, but the weather is so crappy outside that it seems best to concentrate on things close to hand.
Being 42 