Friday 27th March 2020, 9.25am (day 3,137)
At the end of all this, how long before we are able to feel comfortable with each other again, physically close? Even the dogs are getting the message.
So, the longest number of consecutive Hebden Bridge shots on this blog — as faithfully recorded on the stats page — is 10, and that was way back around the end of 2011 and start of 2012. (Blimey, have I been doing this that long…?). The trip to Manchester last Saturday gave the present run a later start than it might have had, but as things stand the eleventh day will be 1st April, and assuming we’re all still here on 6th April, it will then take Brisbane’s record of 15 days in a row in the same place.
Ah, I’ll get used to it. It’s pleasant enough at the moment, in the ongoing very fine weather.
Most of Hebden Bridge was built over a fairly short span of years in the later 19th century. Of the houses from that time, these ones on Birchcliffe Road are the grandest. And when the sun goes down and you see they are the last homes in town to catch the light — you can see why the nobs of 1880 coveted this particular hillside.
The UK is now formally — but terribly politely — in a state of lockdown. I will not be leaving Hebden Bridge for a while. If this blog is to keep going, new insights will have to be found in familiar places. The words here are to be found on the stairwell up to Clare’s treatment room, shared with a private tutoring service (temporarily closed).
I did not have to go very far from my house to take this picture, and nor did I have to interact with anyone in order to do so. For all sorts of reasons, it makes me sad that I have to say these things at this time, but it’s where we’re at. Yet the world is still out there, folks.
Maybe I should have cropped the birds, but I left them there in the end.
The Greatest Media Panic of All Time does not change the turn of the seasons, at least, not yet. it was time for the little potato people to get into the ground today, where (if past experience is any guide) they will stay in a kind of stasis until this time next year, when we will hopefully dig up about the same number and volume of potatoes to eat. If we get to the other side of this rupture, anyway. Here, Clare and Joe do the work, while I laze in the sun and document it.
I had to go into Manchester today to pick up some things. This is the 611th photo on this blog that has been taken in the city — but quite possibly the last for some time, unless things change radically. But as you can see, social distancing was maintained. What my feelings are about the steps currently being taken are not relevant here: like I’ve done for the last 3,130 days, I will just do my best to document what I see.
Bloody hell. How quickly did all that happen. How quickly did we let it all happen.
I spent my whole morning working out then posting my professional and academic opinion about the last few days. By the time I’d done that, I was, frankly, freaked out, so had to get out into the town just to see that it was still there, that it had not been consumed by the zombie apocalypse. And I was reassured. But bearing in mind that this poster has been up since a couple of days after the floods of February — then how much more can my home town take. How much more can we all take?
The media are not reality though. Talk to each other, folks.