The cobbles that surface Sackville Street in Hebden Bridge are classic, but whether they are practical, ask the people that live there. I was just passing. Having reached the ‘bored stupid’ stage of lockdown myself, I wonder whether the painting in evidence here is recent, done by a local householder who has been on furlough for the last three months. But I guess the work looks older than that.
‘Paul’s Fresh Fish (from Fleetwood. Lancashire)’ has been present at Hebden Bridge’s Thursday market every week for years: the van appeared on the blog way back in December 2012 (a picture I always quite liked due to its sense of late December desolation and some decent lighting). He missed a couple of weeks in April, but clearly there is too much tuna in the Irish Sea off Fleetwood to sell on, so he’s back now.
There continues to just about be enough visual interest around my locality to keep this all going. Who knows how long it will be before Authority deigns to say that we can not just travel to other places, but stay there, and explore. Until then, let’s fake it. The thing I like about this shot is that there’s little sense of scale. This could be a substantial island just off the coast, with cliffs behind that are hundreds of feet high. Or, just a little rock in a stream, well lit. You decide.
As we wait for the various right-wing journalists, lobbyists for the tobacco industry and corporate executives who now hold positions of power in this country to do something, anything, to help get us out of this state of incarceration — I go on a walk, look at the meadows, and don’t hold my breath.
An awkward spot to tag, for sure. It takes a certain devotion. Though the river is very low at the moment, with it not having rained properly for weeks.
One could say it’s a paradox that we have chosen to help sustain the good health of the public by closing pretty much all the facilities which exist to help one stay healthy. But it’s not a paradox — it’s simply evidence of how bollixed up everything is at the moment.
Another photowhack — they are coming (relatively) thick and fast under lockdown. I like the random arrangement of rectangles, but perhaps I am reaching.
The white dots that speckle this whole image are not the result of some camera fault. They are dandelion seeds, storms of which blew over Hebden Bridge this evening, as they have for a few days now. The warm, dry weather is bringing them out but also, this year, there are not so many lawns being mowed regularly — not the public ones, anyway. Perfect conditions for them, then. There will be some allergies being born at the moment I can tell you.
On Sunday our glorious leader Mr. Johnson will apparently announce, well, something: as eagerly awaited as the (absent) football results, this speech will define our fate for the next few weeks. My prediction — we will be let out to work, but not to play, a conclusion I somehow try to illustrate with these taped-up swings in the nearby playground. But who will admit that play creates work…. one of those ‘non-essential’ elements driving the economy and giving meaning to our lives? You can’t have one without the other.
I love the individuality of these chimeny pots, and the different characteristics of each of the groups. The four on the right are definitely having a conversation, the leftmost of the four turning to the others as it mutters some choice gossip.
As predicted yesterday, the weather did change, into cold, damp greyeness. All very depressing, especially at the moment. It’d be nice to think this shop can open soon and restart its sale, but it ain’t gonna be next week or anything, is it. Meanwhile, the ducks get on with life and wonder what the jackdaw wants out of them: an alliance against the pigeons maybe?
I haven’t been producing many photos lately for understandable reasons but this is the first time since lockdown began (March 17th basically) that I have managed a photowhack — meaning, this was the only photo taken today.
