I’ve known various feline flirts in my time but Mathilda is up there with the best of them, and — sat in the same place as last time — she thus becomes only the fourth animal to definitely appear more than once on this blog. How do I know she is called Mathilda? She told me.
I don’t expect this photo to win any awards and I could have done better with the light today on what was a beautiful spring day. But sometimes the opportunities just don’t arise. This’ll do — and it was still a lovely day.
On quiet days spent working at home, at least the ducks down by the river in town usually provide a photo opportunity. This one gave it up for the camera but definitely was after something in return, like food, mainly.
Sometimes these photos are planned. When Joe (birthday yesterday) was born the ground was strewn with crocuses (croci?) like these and my mum-in-law predicted the flowers would become a symbol of this event in our lives. She was right. I passed these growing plants in the Sackville Street gardens in Manchester yesterday (home of the Alan Turing statue) but there was no time to get a shot. Repeating the walk to work today though I spent a few minutes there to see what I could do to mark this sign of spring.
There he was, playing the theme from The Godfather. And happy with it. I make this only the second busker to appear on the blog.
Perhaps I could have got a photo to mark Joe’s birthday, 12 years old today. Never mind, let’s mark it anyway.
Spent the whole day doing this stuff, without leaving the house, so you weren’t getting a photo that does any more for your lives than giving you a chance to inspect the accoutrements that surround my home workspace.
March. That’s spring, right? Isn’t it? Not here, not this year, not a bit of it.
Standing outside the pub taking this and friend Sandra said, ‘so, are you going to call that one ‘Scaffolding’ then?’.
OK, why not.
There’s no deeper message, I just liked the image, helped by the random red flower in the background (poppy by proxy?). The memorial is the one in the grounds of St Mark’s Church, Kennington Oval, in London.
Pictured as I made my way down to London for an afternoon’s work today. The last time — for now — that this journey can be done on a publicly-owned train, a service which was so good that it raised millions and millions for the treasury, which is why the morons that run this country have sold it off as of this weekend.
Being 42 