Thursday 8th February 2018, 4.50pm (day 2,359)
And how do you know it is a dentist’s waiting room? From the pencil pot shaped like a molar, of course. Quite upstages the fish in the background.
Being 42
Life, one day at a time
By the croquet lawns
Wednesday 7th February 2018, 10.45am (day 2,358)
Heythrop Park was built three hundred years ago, more or less. In its heyday doubtless it was a sumptuous retreat from the pressures of the outside world, where paid labour served the privileged few, who were repaid in enhanced status and social cachet.
It is of course much the same now. But we call these gatherings ‘conferences’ and we all mingle to talk ‘best practice’ and ‘strategy’ rather than shoot pheasants. Ah, what the hell, it’s actually been a pretty interesting day and a half. Nice building too (the original manor house anyway: perhaps not the modern hotel extension).
Morning frost, Heythrop Park
Tuesday 6th February 2018, 8.05am (day 2,357)
Somewhat shamefully this is the earliest picture in a given day since late November. But it’s only now that the light is starting to return to the sky at a civilised hour in the morning. I said there would be some Oxfordshire countryside today, so here it is — the grounds of Heythrop Park, once the home of the Earl of Shrewsbury, then a Jesuit college, now a hotel of the sort where conferences are held, like the one I am attending.
Passing through London
Monday 5th February 2018, 12.15pm (day 2,356)
London is the fourth most-often depicted place on this blog and it is true I spend a decent amount of time there. But a good number of its appearances are when I’ve just been passing through. Today started in Brighton — it ended in the Oxfordshire countryside (of which more tomorrow one way or another). But to get between those places by public transport: London sits there, sucking you in like a black hole.
Starlings, and selfie
Sunday 4th February 2018, 4.55pm (day 2,355)
A day in Brighton, a day of meetings and non-meetings. The person I was supposed to meet didn’t turn up. Then I met someone nice I did not expect to meet. Then I met a bunch of hypocritical Brexit voting Daily Mail reading obnoxious Nazis in my hotel bar in the evening. Then there were the starlings heading to roost on the pier. Maybe the lady taking a selfie (or possibly a shot of the West Pier, depending on which direction her camera was pointed in) could have turned her head to the left a bit to witness this impressive natural phenomenon. But it’s all about perspective isn’t it.
Beneath the windmills (more non-league)
Saturday 3rd February 2018, 3.25pm (day 2,354)
Those of you who don’t see the point of football may be getting a little tired of seeing it depicted on here, but there’ll be more to come this season yet; in fact this was my ninth consecutive weekend of going to some game or other (2nd/3rd December was the last footie-free Saturday and Sunday). I’m not apologising — I’m enjoying the groundhopping. Today I got up at 6am and travelled 300 miles before lunchtime to see a game in the ninth tier of English football, specifically the Sussex County league, so I do mean it, I’m ‘keeping it real’. Hassocks, in red, were the hosts but lost an important relegation battle 2-1 to visitors Eastbourne United. Above the pitch, the famous twin windmills known as “Jack and Jill” look down from the rim of the South Downs.
Vantage point, Charlotte Street
Friday 2nd February 2018, 9.20am (day 2,353)
One of those pictures where I didn’t really notice the details until it was ‘developed’ (that is, uploaded to the laptop). I thought the pigeon was actually a traffic camera until I looked more closely.
Snow on the roof
Thursday 1st February 2018, 9.20am (day 2,352)
February dawns bright and clear, with snow on the ground on the Lancashire side of the Pennines, but not in Yorkshire — which is unusual. The light covering of white that was on Victoria station roof in the morning would not have taken long to melt off in the sunshine.
Joe in the school library
Wednesday 31st January 2018, 4.45pm (day 2,351)
When I started doing this blog on 26/8/2011 Joe was nine years, five months and twenty-two days old. His first appearance was a few days in, sat in the Railway and looking really very small. Not any more. I guess he hasn’t reached his complete adult form yet, he is not fifteen for a few weeks, but he cannot be far off. This is his ninety-ninth appearance on the blog. Doubtless I will find good reason to mark the next one.
Morning on China Lane
Tuesday 30th January 2018, 9.40am (day 2,350)
China Lane, Manchester, was until relatively recently part of the old warehouse district. However, due to its proximity to Piccadilly station, in the 21st century it has become full of apartbouhotiques and bars where you can buy £7 glasses of Lithuanian stout with plates of felched scallop on the side. But at least there are still places to sleep.
Being 42 