Joe was born at 2.41pm, 4th March 2003. Happy birthday to him. Twenty minutes after this photo was taken (the balloons whipping around in a squally, damp wind), we had a bunch of other 8- and 9-year-olds swarming around the place – which was a good reminder of why we’ve still only had the one child. (I joke, I joke.)
Gosh, a Friday and a Saturday night out in the same weekend. I remember this, it’s called a social life.
I like this shot, particularly the disembodied head lurking to the left. Not bad, considering I’m usually in bed by this time.
It’s Joe’s birthday this weekend. For the first part of his treat, went into Manchester to see Oliver!, courtesy of my sister. But we had pictures from the theatre last weekend, so let’s vary the scenery. I like Albert Square, it’s about the only part of Manchester which is picturesque, at least, on the few days a year when there’s not a bunch of tents, market stalls, traffic cones or something else covering the cobbles.
With no computer at the moment it’s difficult to work properly so I went on a walk, which I enjoyed despite cloudy weather. 160 Lakeland fells done now – 54 to go (see the other blog for details).
Barf was today’s highlight. That really is the name of this mountain, by the way (apparently it is a version of a word that means ‘a low hill’). While on the summit, this couple placed Action Man here on the cairn, to take a photo of it ‘for our grandson’, Nice idea! So I stole it. The idea, that is, not the Action Man.
Would have been nice to have somehow encapsulated, in a photo, the fact that today was the extra day of the Leap Year. But that proved beyond me, though it did amuse me that Joe was annoyed because this year he has to wait another day for his birthday (which is on Sunday).
So here is a picture of the building site that is Hebden Bridge’s new town hall; the scaffolding and cranes of which have been visible from our house for a few months now. A time-lapse project would have been nice – but too late now.
The Mac’s still in the shop so apologies for the erratic appearance of the posts at the moment.
For various reasons, including the fact that my Mac (and thus iPhoto) has gone to the shop for some surgery, I wanted to get today’s shot in early. So that meant grabbing one on the way to the station; just as well then that I don’t seem yet to have run out of things to capture, photographically, in this town. These houses are right by the canal (which runs behind the fence, unseen in this shot), and the arrangement of windows was so that they got plenty of light so that weavers could use them for their literal cottage industries in the early 19th century. Apparently.
It’s the 15th consecutive day in which I’ve left (or not been in) Hebden Bridge. I’m tired. I needed someone else to teach the Media & Information Literacy class, and in this incarnation, Morgan comes cheap and is quite entertaining.
Run a line of pylons through the Lake District and there would rightly be outrage, but though there will be purists who will not even concede this point, the moors to the south of Hebden Bridge are so bleak that at least these metal monsters make the landscape more interesting. I have no idea where these lines of towers come from, or where they march off to; they just stomp across the land for miles along the road from Cragg Vale to the M62 on Saddleworth Moor.
Today marks the start of the second six-month period of this blog – and thus we are at the halfway point. Yes folks, I am forty-two-and-a-half years old as of today. Because I am something of a statto, I feel obliged to share with you the information that:
Anyway, so. I have as much to do as I have done so far. We’re halfway through. I’m still enjoying it: I’ll keep doing it if you’ll keep reading it.
I could say that we were here, with Joe, to see Rigoletto or something equally cultural but actually it was Spamalot, the Monty Python musical. More fun than an actual opera, anyway. I am very happy Joe likes Monty Python: it shows that the sense-of-humour genes have been passed on.
Back home. Was supposed to be going out in Manchester tonight but the gig was postponed, or cancelled, or I got the date wrong, or something. Anyway, when that happens, that’s what locals are for.
Being 42 