Thursday 7th January 2021, 4.15pm (day 3,423)
Will the last business standing please turn off the economy? Thanks…
Selfie outside Shelter
Being 42
Life, one day at a time
Tag Archives: 51
Spring Wood, in waiting
Wednesday 6th January 2021, 11.15am (day 3,422)
Spring Wood is its name…. but it is going to feel like a very long time until spring. With weeks of stagnancy and economic devastation to come, let us at least hope there are more days with as good weather as today. If Bojo thinks I’m staying at home on such a day, he is mistaken.
Joe at college, or maybe not
Tuesday 5th January 2021, 3.45pm (day 3,421)
So schools and colleges had one day of life and now Bojo has said they’re unclean, like the rest of the country. So Joe gets to spend the next six weeks, maybe twelve, at home, while algorithms and their creators bicker to be given the right to determine his future. Conviviality and intimacy are things of the past, getting further away all the time.
Not rush hour (a study in green)
Monday 4th January 2021, 4.15pm (day 3,420)
Four days into 2021 and Bojo the Clown runs out of ideas so puts us all under house arrest again. But I still have to go to work, now and again, along with a few other people here and there.
Broken bowl
Sunday 3rd January 2021, 6.20pm (day 3,419)
This post does not plough untouched furrows of excitement, I know, but then again, nor will January 2021 I suspect. Consider it an abstract; the smoothness of the apples contrasted with the sharp edge of the break. If you like.
The canal at Mytholmroyd
Saturday 2nd January 2021, 1.55pm (day 3,418)
Amongst its other functions, this blog serves to record the weather patterns, and neither of the last two winters (2018/19, 19/20) have seen any real snow. The last truly white period, at least where I have been, was in March 2018. Today wasn’t a frozen apocalypse, but it did mean that 2021 has already seen more snow in Hebden Bridge — or, here, Mytholmroyd, just down the road — than the last two calendar years combined. I’m not objecting. It does provide good photography material.
The Strid
Friday 1st January 2021, 1.15pm (day 3,417)
2021 has limped into existence, and whatever else it brings, it will see the 10th anniversary of this blog (on 26th August). I make no predictions for the year, but I have made some resolutions, mainly that I will continue to live my life in the way that I need to in order to sustain my physical and mental health, whatever obstacles are placed in the way. That’s what it’s about isn’t it? Health? So we are being told, anyway.
This is the Strid, near Bolton Abbey in Yorkshire; one of the north of England’s natural wonders although the reason for this is not immediately apparent on this shot. The river is the Wharfe, and it’s fairly sizeable at this point, where it flows through a band of limestone. Above and below this gorge it is over 10 metres wide. So how does it squeeze itself through this defile, so narrow one could almost cross it with a stride — hence the name? The answer lies below: concealed by the water is a fearful chasm, undercut with potholes and very deep. Fall in here and I wouldn’t fancy your chances.
Dead wood
Thursday 31st December 2020, 1.40pm (day 3,416)
With parties forbidden — by law — there was little to do except go for another walk as a way of trying to see the world. All in all, a fungus-ridden slab of dead wood seems to be a suitable metaphor for the last day of 2020. So be it.
My favourite photo of the year? Well, there have been fewer opportunities, all told, for creativity but I do like the one of the fox I took above Kentmere, Cumbria, on 4th March. I couldn’t believe that when I first saw it, it did not flee from me, but sat down to keep an eye on me (almost certainly because there were cubs nearby). It was certainly a poser, as foxes go.
The penultimate sunset of the year
Wednesday 30th December 2020, 3.30pm (day 3,415)
Without even having to be subtle about it, the moronocracy have ensured not a single pub nor place of entertainment will be open for New Year’s Eve anywhere in the UK, so I don’t feel 2020 is really ending — it will go on to infect our future for years to come. It’s going out cold, too: this was probably the coldest day of the year. This view from the upper reaches of my house has appeared on the blog many times before but it’s a useful mainstay, and on this one I like the addition of the headlights of the car caught heading up Birchcliffe Road.
Back home
Tuesday 29th December 2020, 2.30pm (day 3,414)
A slight dusting of snow in the morning, nothing serious but in Britain it’s the kind of thing that leads to everything getting cancelled, meaning I couldn’t attend my planned football match this evening and thus get 11 different places in 11 days. There are still things to see at home, however. Which, looking back on 2020, is just as well, isn’t it?
Being 42 