I was taking a shot of the dog, when the guy turned around as well to finish it off. Yes, the 2025-26 football season — at least, some its ‘pre-season friendly stage’ — is up and running…
Following on from Wednesday, another picture of someone with a less-than-orthodox approach to their housing arrangements. I know of people (hi, Beth & Steve) who live permanently in such a manner but it’ll never be for me, there are too many home comforts of which I am fond and which a mobile home or narrowboat is never going to give me. But on a day when ‘independence’ might be on the minds of some, each to their own.
Fairly warm and dry the weather has been — and this is a spot that catches the sun. All the same, surely that can’t be a fully ripe blackberry in the first week of July? But it is. Or was, as shortly after taking the shot I ate the fruit, and very nice it was.
Attending to the roof does seem to be his primary task, going on the strip of felt that is either not yet attached to the front, or is partway through being removed. It’s a fairly low-power way to house oneself, I imagine — and maybe in a few years time, once AI eats 95% of all electricity generated, anywhere, many more of us will be having to engage with it. (Note: not one pixel nor letter of this or any other of my blogs has been generated by AI, nor ever will be.)
Many such items have appeared in our house down the years and I don’t deny I have my equivalents, but this latest one of Clare’s is particularly honest about whether there is any point to it all. The organising I mean, not life itself.
Number N+1 in the occasional series on here, Blokes Who Make Their Living A Long Way Up In The Air. In fact you can’t even see the occupant of this cradle, it’s more of an abstract. I couldn’t work in such a way, or location.
Must have had at least a dozen attempts at capturing this example of insectile wiggliness. Don’t know why we call them ‘bumblebees’ though — they don’t seem to bumble to me, they are very systematic. Just this much time at each flower. Which is why, once I finally got the rhythm of it, I got the shot.
The picture was taken mainly because of the bright orange water of the Trent and Mersey Canal at this point (Kidsgrove, on the Staffordshire/Cheshire border). Such things are not usually a good sign. The mystery of why this colour is there was not solved until just a short while ago, as I prepared to post this by looking up some information about the Harecastle Tunnel, the north entrance of which is just visible in the background, to the left of the guys on the towpath. There is an old version of this tunnel running parallel to it that has been closed for over a century now, and apparently, leaches iron ore into the water. So it’s always orange — this is not some recent chemical spill. I don’t imagine drinking the water does anyone much good. Unless they’re anaemic I suppose.
I knew in advance that today’s shot would be taken at home in Hebden Bridge, meaning it would become the 2,000th HB shot to feature on here. Knowing also that not a great deal was going to happen on the day I thought I might as well make #HB2000 as typical as possible. Hi to Johnny and Mary therefore, who I see often enough in this spot, particularly in the summer. (In the winter we would be twenty yards to the right, and inside….)
It’s nice when my students can still impress me, and, currently, Keela’s dissertation project is certainly doing that — although I can’t tell you what it is, not for any sinister reasons but just because it’s not finished yet and not my business to tell you. But, yes, it involves virtual reality, she doesn’t wear a rig on a regular basis. I do not believe my office noticeboard has featured before so there you go, a chance to check out the randomly accumulated display of items upon it for the first, and who knows, perhaps the last time.
Being 42 