Decided I’d better put in a photo from Manchester just to prove I do still occasionally show my face there. I know this sign doesn’t mean what it seems to mean, but there’s always something mildly amusing about this idiom. Each generation of kids anew must look around them in trepidation when they pass one.
It was also nice to depict an outdoor scene without a crust of winter over it. Quite a pleasant day in Manchester, in fact.
It’s nice to be able to walk to work in the morning, without the prelude of a train journey beforehand anyway. Even if it was ten degrees below zero in Tromsø this morning.
I did make it into Manchester today, and home again — unlike those stuck on the M62 last night. My train to work passed over the gridlock on the motorway somewhere around Castleton. At home in the evening there were vague signs of a thaw but as one can see from this shot, it is putative at best. At least I’m getting out of here on Sunday. To the Arctic.
Clare would like to take some credit for this photo as she claims ‘she saw it first’. Consider it inspiration then…
OK, so, we have had a bit of snow. This is Old Town, above Hebden Bridge, but most of the place looks like this at the moment. Things were functional round here but I was glad I didn’t have to schlep into Manchester…. no, those pleasures await me tomorrow, unless I can find a reason to avoid it.
Back home again, my town strangely empty this afternoon. Perhaps everyone was hunkering down for the promised ‘winter apocalypse’ that is, at least according to the media, about to devour the entire Northern Hemisphere in a kind of Game of Thrones scenario. Well, it’s a little chilly that’s true, but I’m sure we’ll live.
Our tour of the south-east corner of England continues. Once again I find myself in Brighton, on a beautiful but very cold day. A day well spent all round.
So I was just walking to work from Victoria station and turned my head to the right, checking the road for traffic, and I just saw this photo. It’s turned out as I envisaged it, I think. It’s nice when that happens.
If it wasn’t for the distinctive topography of my home town, Hebden Bridge, I doubt I would have felt inspired enough to keep this blog going for 2,370 days. I do spend quite a bit of time here — some 40% of the shots are from HB. And, well, it does look rather good in the right light. I try to do it justice.
The weather remains glorious (sarcasm warning), thus provoking a wilfully uneventful weekend. The Mediterranean food stall at the Sunday market does its best in very non-Mediterranean conditions.
A day spent entirely at or in the vicinity of home was never going to be easy photographically, so let’s pick up some more of HB’s amusing graffiti to epitomise the day. Plenty of post-processing was needed to bring out the blue of the spray paint. But if only I could add the missing apostrophe without feeling like a total pedant.
