That path snaking up this hillside on the south edge of Halifax is part of the Calderdale Way, round which Clare and I (and Joe, today) continue to perambulate, when we can. July 11th was the last time we managed some but the weather on this Sunday was too good to ignore: one of those days which proves that on average, if you want really good and reliable weather in this country, come in September.
Helium is abundant in the universe but not on Earth, as it’s so light, and unreactive, that all it wants to do is escape back into space. I guess this shop has just discovered this fact of chemistry.
It’s not been the most dynamic week, though work was done. Time to pack up and look forward to the weekend.
The apostrophes appear to be compulsory in any reference to this place, or the suburbia that surrounds it — the hinterland between Manchester and Bury. Can you think of a more ‘northern’ name for a public transport terminus? I am struggling. Why was I here at 9pm on a Wednesday evening? The usual reasons…. walk, football, etc.
This is a very boring photo. In that respect it epitomises my day perfectly. The title of the post says it all.
As I move inexorably towards my dotage there are increasing signs that I am basically losing it, including the fact that I had a relatively serious conversation today with a six-foot-high chicken in a Bradford City shirt. Sorry — not a chicken, officially this is a bantam. What was it/he doing at Brighouse Town FC today? Well, that’s mainly what the conversation was about.
One reason I went to Manchester yesterday was to buy a new camera. Since the pic of North Queensferry, after which the lens motor of the last one seized up permanently, I’ve been on emergency (and inadequate) backup. Three years of usage every day seems the usual lifespan of these devices at the present time. I have gone back to a more compact model — it’s just easier to carry around all the time — and until further notice what you see on here will be taken with a Canon Power Shot SX740 HS.
Here’s its debut on the blog — chosen because it was the photo taken today that most made me smile. Freedom of expression works in both directions.
Passed through Manchester city centre this afternoon. Somewhere over there –> the annual Pride festival was taking place, but this is as near as I got to it, so let me pay homage by depicting this well-adorned statue outside the uber-hip Gotham Hotel.
A Wainwright walk: the last of my summer holiday. (See my other blog for the technicalities.) A struggle with pre-holiday-weekend traffic that I should have anticipated, and a long journey for what was a couple of hours of light exercise. But the views from the summit of Faulds Brow were very fine. Here, the direction is north-west, the city in the background, Carlisle.
Here’s how I begin this 11th year of blogging, my 53rd of life. In monochrome and with a shaving cut. It’s been a good birthday.
This is the eleventh time that 26th August has cycled round on this blog. Including today, the last four, photographically anyway, have been spent in Hebden Bridge, with 26/8/17 (in Urbana, Illinois) the last time I spent my birthday away from home. This is also the 50th self-portrait of some kind or another to feature on here.
Being 42 