Sunday 4th August 2024, 5.00pm (day 4,728)

These things are not necessarily unusual sights in Hebden Bridge, but perhaps their juxtaposition is rare.

These things are not necessarily unusual sights in Hebden Bridge, but perhaps their juxtaposition is rare.

By British standards, Yorkshire has always been a big county. Chopped around with a bit since 1974, nevertheless, in terms of its historic boundaries it was the largest in the country. And Mickle Fell, at 2,585 feet/788m above sea level, was its highest point. Truly, therefore, between about 10.30 and 11.00 am, I was Top Yorkshireman — geographically, at least.
Of course, since 1974 this territory was allocated to County Durham instead — but let’s gloss over that little detail. If you want to find out more about my walk today, please do have a look at my other blog.

The sun is still shining. A few attics need airing, skylights need opening. Ours too — this photo was taken by sticking my head out of the roof.

The weather is warm and pleasant at the moment, and very unconducive to staying indoors, even if I did have to work. So, I didn’t. Stay indoors, that is. The other thing comes with the territory, for a bit longer in my life at least.

And so ends July 2024, another month that has felt extended over quite a long time — at the start of it we were still in the Isle of Wight, and that was surely ages ago. But apparently not. Anyway, the month ends with an evening in Leeds. No particular significance attaches to the chosen picture — I just like the colours. Which is, of course, probably the reason that the designers of Granary Wharf’s visual elements did this with the lights.

So, at least a few of the tomato flowers (as pictured on May 23rd) have made an effort: although don’t imagine that this fruit is very big, nor that there are very many of them. This agriculture lark is not straightforward…

Well, that’s what it looks like. In truth we were all, Doris the dog included, enjoying the sunshine; there’s not been that much of it to be seen in northern England this year so far but summer does appear to have broken out over the last few days, at least.

In John Wyndham’s The Day of the Triffids is presented the ultimate invasive species. So hostile is it to human life that following a public health disaster the plant simply takes over. I believe some people get to live out a siege future on the Isle of Wight at the end of the novel. It ain’t happening quite so quickly with Himalayan Balsam, but nevertheless I do believe that we are in trouble. There seems to be more of it than ever, this summer.

I’m sure there are worse things to be remembered for, and less appropriate ways of memorialising a loved one. Those whom Barbara left behind are hopefully gratified to see this being properly used. (That is an actual squirrel, in case you were wondering.)

That faceless mass of hair over there is Joe, down on one of his occasional visits from Dundee. This being the case, an afternoon off work was called and more exciting pursuits engaged in. And Totopoly is a pretty good game, all in all — it keeps up the interest to the end. Number 9 won, by the way — and it was my horse.