Saturday 18th March 2023, 2.15pm (day 4,223)
No apologies for doing the ‘football landscape’ shot today. A magnificent view from the home ground of AFC Crossley — which was up in Illingworth, to the north of Halifax.
Illingworth football landscape
Being 42
Life, one day at a time
Portal to another dimension
Friday 17th March 2023, 1.55pm (day 4,222)
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…..
Hopwood Lane, Halifax
Thursday 16th March 2023, 12.20pm (day 4,221)
A visit to the less glamorous side of town. I like the optimistic advertisement for the £3 all-day car parking however.
Clare with hammer
Wednesday 15th March 2023, 10.45am (day 4,220)
If there’s DIY to be done about the house, it’s never me that does it.
An inconsequential shot for an inconsequential day, but it does have one claim to significance: this is the first time I have ever managed seven morning shots in a row. Six in a row has been attained several times but never a full week. Getting through the weekend was the trick, at least in this case.
Hail storm
Tuesday 14th March 2023, 10.55am (day 4,219)
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.
Getting the eyes checked out
Monday 13th March 2023, 9.05am (day 4,218)
Vision is important to me, and, I assume, to everyone: get your eyes checked when you can…
Guarding breakfast
Sunday 12th March 2023, 8.55am (day 4,217)
The house pooch of the Star Inn, Penzance, doesn’t necessarily take his guard dog duties all that seriously, at least not where the breakfast buffet is concerned. Then again I was the only guest, so presumably he’d decided I was legitimate.
Marazion Beach
Saturday 11th March 2023, 10.25am (day 4,216)
My last full day in Cornwall. Less clement weather as you can see, but all the same, I’d rather have had this than the heavy snow which has hit further north: I’m quite happy to be away from that, thank you very much. A definite ‘sea/beach’ theme has developed, with this being the fifth in a row to feature one or both, but down here, where the island ends, it’s hard to be unaware of the ocean.
Hugh Town, Isles of Scilly
Friday 10th March 2023, 10.45am (day 4,215)
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.
The First and Last House in Britain
Thursday 9th March 2023, 10.25am (day 4,214)
Those of you not from Britain might not be immediately aware of the cultural significance of Land’s End, although the very name gives a clue. This is not the southernmost point on the island of Great Britain (that being the Lizard), nor is it the westernmost (Ardnamurchan, in Scotland), but it is the furthest extremity of the long toe that the island sends out into the Atlantic, and the distance of, about, 875 miles in a straight line to John o’Groats in Scotland is the longest distance between any two points on this lump of land off the north-west coast of Europe.
The building you see here, officially known as the “First and Last House”, is a café — with, behind, the Longships lighthouse — and somewhere just to the left is a rather tacky complex of buildings targeted firmly at the very large number of tourists who flock here during the summer months. I consider myself fortunate to have seen it in the off-season. But while at one level it seems very arbitrary to value this point over many others nearby which are far more attractive and interesting (like Porthcurno, yesterday, which is about four miles away [and further south]), there is a sense here that one has come to the end of something, in a quite physical but also a spiritual sense. Which is why people want to come here, I guess. I can’t knock it — I made a point of making it to this spot, and now document it here on the blog. In the grand scheme of things it doesn’t mean anything, but in a small and personal way, perhaps it does.
Being 42 