The guys give it the “mean and moody, but still cute” look, as if they are modelling for the blackbird version of a Hugo Boss ad. A shame this one is a little out of focus, but I couldn’t persuade them to repeat the pose, sorry.
It’s 2/2/22, and also Lunar New Year (or Chinese New Year, Tet, whatever other term you want to use). It seemed appropriate to depict this today even if I suspect I am a day late. Manchester has a large Chinese population (students or otherwise) and the city centre is decorated accordingly. I believe I should say at this point: xīn nián kuài lè .
Serious combat in the Railway this evening. Somehow black and white photography seems appropriate for this subject matter.
Communicating by carving a message into a tree is known as ‘blazing’ — something I only found out immediately before posting this, thanks to the ever-fascinating Wikipedia. The most famous blazed tree is probably one in Queensland, where a message was left in 1861 for a party of explorers that was never found. I doubt this one, on the path from Hebden Bridge to Mytholmroyd, is as significant in historical terms, but obviously it meant something to someone at the time. And, thanks to this post, to me too, here and now.
This trip down to London also offered the chance to pick up a County Top (see the other blog); specifically Bushey Heath, the highest point in the historic county of Middlesex, swallowed up by London in 1965 although at least it still retains a county cricket team. It wasn’t major mountaineering, though. Clare here strolls through the woods near Bentley Priory (an ecclesiastical relic? no, a premium housing estate) in one of those shots that chews up the bandwidth thanks to all the foliage.
“God’s Own Junkyard” — and that’s its official name — is a bar/café in Walthamstow, London, but that doesn’t even begin to describe it. In fact it’s a museum of neon; what you see here is barely 1% of the whole stock. I wonder what their electricity bill is like.
The first weekend away of the year. You can tell we’re in First Class because of the menu: stock up on the complimentary drinks and food, and the relatively small premium paid for these tickets is effectively refunded. Sometimes the food you want is even available.
The Emley Moor TV transmitting station can be seen from almost everywhere in West Yorkshire, particularly anywhere even vaguely elevated: but then again, that’s the reason why it was built where it was. It’s still the tallest free-standing structure in Britain. Except that it has a companion at the moment; a temporary mast designed to take the load while repairs are conducted, apparently. Yes, I am frustrated by the electricity wires on this shot but this was another day with not much to see, so I’m taking what’s there.
My friend Geri was one of the very first people to appear on this blog: that’s her in the foreground of the shot of Joe on day 9. In the intervening time she, like me and everyone else, has got ten years and nearly five months older, and in her case that has led, today, to a birthday with a 0 on the end — though I will spare her blushes by not specifying which one. We’re still in the same place, however: not just the same pub, but the same room. Happy birthday to her.
Evening on Hebden Bridge station, platform 1. But am I leaving town, or coming back? That’s for me to know. Perhaps it is all the same thing in the end.
Being 42 