This statue of Wallace and Gromit stands (and sits) outside the market hall of Preston, Lancashire: the home town of creator Nick Park. This is actually Wallace’s second appearance on the blog — the first was in Bradford, nearly nine and a half years ago. But he’s still wearing those Wrong Trousers. Gromit makes his debut (as do the other two).
Another less-than-exciting week ends with a photograph of similar sort. Life is scheduled to liven up in July but in the meantime, here we still are, Hebden Bridge on a quiet Friday post-work afternoon. Going monochrome helps the interest level a little, perhaps.
Scientists down the years have discovered that compared to many other species, birds are fairly intelligent creatures, and this one was clearly intent on achieving its goal this afternoon — get into a nut, using only its beak and claws. Whether it was ultimately successful I don’t know, but it was certainly putting in the effort.
Another case of Someone Else’s Art feeding this blog. I assume this face does also belong to a real person; I wonder how models do actually feel about coming (literally) face-to-face with themselves now and again. I put her to the side of this shot because I also like the conjunction with the stuff in the restaurant window, and the pedestrian timed it well too. All seen on Grosvenor Street not far from my office on campus this lunchtime.
“O seer of signs…. How shall I know the coming of Midsummer’s Day as the years go by?”
“When Holy Homer sees the last light of the day, my son. And only then.”
OK, it’s a day early, but we’re basically there. The nights start drawing in after tomorrow.
I reckon doing this kind of thing well takes a certain skill. Like many of us this guy’s doubtless hoping they’ll never train a robot to do his job; or replace this board with a digital version, that sucks up that little more of the world’s energy supplies.
While we’re on that topic, note for Absolut (other vodkas are available) — making bottles out of recyclable cardboard sounds neat, but isn’t glass recyclable too? Or maybe I’m missing something.
Apparently a while back someone graffitied ‘Welcome Home Sexy’ on the approaches to Bradford Interchange railway station, to cheer up their partner, spouse, mate, or whatever. This has now become A Thing. A stylised version of the original message is still there beside the tracks, but not content with that, we get it by the station entrance too, next to the heroically decrepit retail establishment. But hey, why not, at least it isn’t another “Buy Corporate!” advertisement.
Normal rain too, that is, not a thunderstorm (although we did have one of those later in the evening). Can I be the first to come out with that hardy perennial phrase — ‘That’s the summer over’.
Friday afternoon, and it’s been a six-day working week. But the next time this bell dings, I can go home. And I am the one responsible for dinging it this time round. I’ll wait until the appointed time, though.
I apologise, as much to myself as anyone else, for the uneventfulness of life at this time. The scaffolders are busy in Hebden however; there were already at least four major scaffolding installations visible from home (including next door), and this fifth went up during the day. A growth industry it seems.
Being 42 