Tuesday 21st February 2023, 6.40pm (day 4,198)
Ignoring the currently redundant mug and bowl, we have: sugar; syrup; lemons; and wine. The pancakes are on the way — after that, nothing else is required for a while.
Shrove Tuesday essentials
Being 42
Life, one day at a time
Holy razor wire
Monday 20th February 2023, 10.50am (day 4,197)
Almost every time I am on campus I pass by the front of this building — the Holy Name Church on Oxford Road. Today saw a rare excursion around the back, and thus a chance to inspect its adornment of razor wire, a deterrent you’d think a consecrated place could do without. But clearly divine intervention is not something that puts off the lead thieves (which I assume is the point of all this).
The overseer
Sunday 19th February 2023, 11.50am (day 4,196)
I have developed some druidic powers. I can, fairly reliably, summon a robin. It’s quite easy actually — simply go up to the garden, dig over part of it, and wait five minutes. One will usually appear to check over the bounty that has been revealed. This one was quite unperturbed by the presence of both myself and Clare, and has a look on his face that suggests he thinks we should be doing more digging — I reckon robins are evolving to use humans as manual labour, in fact. Perhaps they will be our overlords in a few dozen millennia,
Watching the game
Saturday 18th February 2023, 2.30pm (day 4,195)
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).
Sackville Street Gardens, Manchester
Friday 17th February 2023, 2.00pm (day 4,194)
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.
Frida keeps me company
Thursday 16th February 2023, 8.30pm (day 4,193)
This week Clare has also been away, and remains there until the weekend. Back home I did nothing other than work at home and was close to having to put up something lousy on here, until later on, I looked over to the wife’s empty side of the bed and saw Frida Kahlo looking at me. Well, sort of.
The Thames, again
Wednesday 15th February 2023, 9.40am (day 4,192)
My last day in London, this time. I did the Thames as a subject on Sunday, but I’m doing it again. A glorious morning: the two walkers seen here, and me, were considerably overdressed. I’m not sure that the bridge ahead has a name, but it takes the suburban line over the river to Chiswick. This is a very attractive part of the city, which is why I will never be able to afford to live there.
Europe’s busiest railway station
Tuesday 14th February 2023, 10.45pm (day 4,191)
Clapham Junction station takes everything that Victoria and Waterloo stations have to throw at it, and as a result is apparently the busiest railway station in Europe, judged by number of trains. Except between midnight and 5am there can be up to 200 trains an hour passing through here, which makes it more than one every twenty seconds.
I like this golden spillage of light, and the seemingly random fractions posted on the top. I was here late on: this is the latest shot since 5th October 2020, in fact.
The Ladies’ Mile, Swinley Forest
Monday 13th February 2023, 11.35am (day 4,190)
Day off work today and glorious weather, so I got out and bagged the latest County Top: this one lying in the vast expanse of Swinley Forest, south of Bracknell in Berkshire. The ‘Ladies’ Mile’ was this seemingly endless, dead straight path; this view epitomising the day, both for the trees and also the large number of dogs running free, their owners largely oblivious.
The Thames at Brentford
Sunday 12th February 2023, 9.35am (day 4,189)
Despite having come to London regularly over the years there are still parts of this massive city that I have not yet explored. The western suburbs were amongst them, but this time I am staying in Brentford, giving me the chance to take a Sunday morning walk down the banks of the Thames to Chiswick and Barnes, all desirable spots. The river looks narrow here but that’s because over there is an eyot, or river island, which splits the flow in two at this point. What the old concrete post was, no idea — but the birds like to perch on it.
Being 42 