The ‘Knowledge Building Summer Institute’ conference got me to Wageningen last year. No chance (or, at least, no money) to get out to Montreal for the 2023 version, however, so it was a day in hybrid-land for me. Or rather, thanks to the time difference, an evening. And on a Sunday too. But a voluntary one, and fairly interesting.
After 26.5 miles over the last two days — and in warm, sunny weather too — a day of rest was called for. Clearly the June heat is encouraging many people to expose more flesh than is usual, although with the number of stag and hen parties that pass through Hebden these days, this is becoming a more common sight.
There are worse places to be at 8.20am on a Friday morning, that’s true. In 2007, the view down Wastwater to the mountains at its head (l-r: Yewbarrow, Great Gable, Lingmell) was voted ‘Britain’s Best View’ in an ITV programme (see this page); and you have to agree that it makes a good case. And I don’t even care that a car has got into the shot, in fact I quite like it — thanks to the person stood just to its right, also photographing this magnificent slice of land.
I am fond of the genre that is the Formal Sheep Portrait. They do pose — I mean, I’m not saying they know they’re having their picture taken, but they’re quite happy to stand still and check you out while you formulate the shot. This one is taken on the slopes of Irton Pike, in the west of the Lake District: it’s Muncaster Fell that is in the background, sporting a heavy growth of rhododendrons, hence the dusting of pink.
Third post in a week to be taken in the garden, but it’s still sunny and there’s not much else going on that offers a change of scene. This tennis ball has been sat pretty much in the same position for weeks now, and both Clare and I have acknowledged that neither of us have the slightest idea where it came from. It offers an opportunity for a still life, nevertheless.
On the basis that it was going to be warm enough to sit outside, colleague Louis stood by the exit out to the courtyard. However, today was about 10º cooler than it’s been lately — so we met inside in any case. I was running a couple of minutes late. But I did see him down there, patiently waiting.
Working at home today. This guy’s working at (a) home too, the one across the road, and decided to wield the stonecutter, or angle-grinder, or whatever particular power tool this is that throws up lots of dust and noise, each time I wanted to sit out on the front step and get some fresh air and a cup of tea. Easier just to stay indoors, even on another fine day.
Until seeing this one close up today I had never realised what a bizarre-looking species the turkey is. Even its feathers look wrong, like it’s actually a giant pinecone with an absurd neck and head arbitrarily stuck on it. And the nose…. or whatever it is. Takes some going to carry this all off with dignity but I guess it manages it. For the next six months or so, anyway.
Hmmm, a Saturday with no football (yes, OK, I’m aware that there was something going on in London along those lines, but you know what I mean). And the sun was shining. And there was work to do in the garden. All these things made a relaxing afternoon picnic, with wine, just the right thing to do. (Those are my feet, yes. Clare is unseen to the left — I didn’t drink the whole bottle myself, you know.)
Another one of those recurrent, annual subjects. Our plum tree definitely has years off — and 2022 was one — but this year there’s going to be a decent crop. Previously I have referred to these as plumlets but for some reason ‘plumlings’ came to mind this time round, which I feel is definitive.
Being 42 