Hmmm, a Saturday with no football (yes, OK, I’m aware that there was something going on in London along those lines, but you know what I mean). And the sun was shining. And there was work to do in the garden. All these things made a relaxing afternoon picnic, with wine, just the right thing to do. (Those are my feet, yes. Clare is unseen to the left — I didn’t drink the whole bottle myself, you know.)
Another one of those recurrent, annual subjects. Our plum tree definitely has years off — and 2022 was one — but this year there’s going to be a decent crop. Previously I have referred to these as plumlets but for some reason ‘plumlings’ came to mind this time round, which I feel is definitive.
While on one of my random perambulations around northern England, I found myself walking past this establishment, which is one of two factories in the country making Fox’s Biscuits. It’s in Wesham, between Preston and Blackpool. The best thing about this came a minute or so after I took this shot, when I turned a corner and was suddenly downwind of it. I had to stop walking for a while and just breathe in the delicious smell of it. How they live with that all the time in Wesham I have no idea, they must be hungry all the time, feeling like Charlie Bucket.
I wasn’t participating, just documenting. And out celebrating having finished the end of the latest bout of marking.
Having walked around eighteen miles yesterday, I did not leave the house today and got on with necessary work, stuff like online teaching (two of those), marking (lots), etc. Exciting it was not. Playing with some effects on my relatively new camera was as much as I managed. This is a truly naff image, I accept that, but so went the day.
Buxton is the highest town (as opposed to village) in Britain, parts of it being over 1,000 feet up. Which, I know, is not high by (say) Alpine standards, but the latitude is a factor — in June 1975, snowfall was recorded here. Not today though, fortunately. The famous, and now-restored, Crescent has appeared on here before: the dome is that of the Opera House.
Taken from the early stages of a walk that was finished fifteen or so miles to the west, in Macclesfield — more to come later on another blog…
An official run as well, hence the steward directing them up Lees Road. Around 9.5km to go, including up to Heptonstall, which is a considerable effort even at walking pace. Taken from inside my place, so apologies for the reflections, telephone wire, etc.
Mediterranean weather today, for sure — very pleasant. More of this weather, please — or will we get the June monsoon this year? I think the Piece Hall, restored a few years ago, also affects a kind of Mediterranean vibe, with its resemblance to a Roman forum. Either way, she was happy enough about being photographed, hence the wave.
The sun is out, and Coach Party Season has opened in Hebden Bridge. QR codes now appear in local shop windows that help such visitors find locations from Happy Valley (despite the fact that most of it was not filmed here). Trinkets are bought. Some pints consumed, perhaps. Then everyone files back onto the bus and goes somewhere else. I picked this shot today just because I like the guy in the middle, caught in some cosmic revelation. Perhaps he has just seen Sarah Lancashire ascending to heaven.
Don’t read the time from the light here. Victoria station is much improved from twenty years ago, when I first started using it, but platforms 3-6 are still mere warrens, skulking under the overhead bulk of the Arena. Dark holes in which one can wait a while to find out if they’re running your service today.
Being 42 