The moon looks much the same from Bradford as it does from everywhere else, I imagine (until you get down below the Equator, when it does this weird turning upside-down thing), But here we have a nice conjunction, I think. Will it come out unscathed after its journey along the serrated edge? Probably.
Yesterday’s journey home was done with Joe in attendance. Up on the allotment, the hedge needed trimming. A conjunction of child, hedge and the necessary hardware was facilitated. All parties seemed reasonably satisfied with the outcome.
Day two of the journey home, so a day spent largely behind the wheel. Only at the lunchtime stop, Annandale Water services (it’s been on before) was there the chance for photography. All motorway service stations are places of transience: if anyone stops for longer than 30 minutes, which is about what we managed, I would wonder why. So this little critter shouldn’t be too worried. I’m sure they’ll be back soon enough.
Orkney possibly peaked several thousand years ago, at which point in time the local inhabitants constructed a number of stone circles that still look spectacular to this day. Places of worship? Or, possibly, goals for some big game of community v community football matches? We will probably never know.
After plenty of fine days since we left home the weather for much of today was dreadful, but it did improve. The trouble with trying to capture a sunset picture in such a northerly latitude is that it always goes down so slowly, and this evening, time was a little limited and waiting much longer not really practical. But this one will do.
St Magnus — originally Magnus Erlendssen — was one of the Norse Earls of Orkney. Apparently someone thought it was a good idea at the time to set up a kind of power-sharing agreement with his cousin Håkon, which lasted only as long as it took Håkon to capture Magnus and stick an axe into his parietal lobe. However, as Magnus was considered something of a pious dude and all-round good sort, after his nephew Rognvald subsequently deposed the usurper, he built this cathedral in tribute. This is pretty good going, as most of us these days will get a post mortem on Facebook and a few ‘likes’. I dunno, progress, eh?
The first part of my day was spent up the hill in the background, Ward Hill: not an easy lump of sandstone to get up or down, thanks to its steep sides (evident in this shot), but worth the bother. The second part of my day was spent at the easier-to-reach environs of Stromness FC, members of the Orkney ‘A’ League, and their match against Dounby (here in blue). I couldn’t decide which one was worth making Pic of the Day so let’s just choose one that accommdates both these pleasures.
At the start of World War 2, a good portion of the British Navy was berthed in the immense natural harbour of Scapa Flow, the entrances of which were defended by a range of methods including the sinking of obsolete ships in the channels. That these defenses were inadequate was proven when a U-Boat snuck in anyway and sunk HMS Royal Oak with the loss of hundreds of lives. As a result, Churchill ordered the building of the barriers that now bear his name and block off all entrance to Scapa Flow on its western side — though, in a move typical of many public works projects, these were not in fact finished until literally four days after the war had ended. Anyway, the Barriers now act as causeways linking Orkney’s south-eastern group of islands to the Mainland, and the blockships still sit there, rusting away and playing home to the occasional lobster pot.
For those that don’t know, signs like these on British roads indicate one can drive at the ‘national speed limit’, which is no less than 60mph. Anyone doing so on this road, however, may as well presume to end up in the cemetery to which it leads, visible over there on the sea shore. Perhaps the road traffic planners of Stromness, Orkney, have a morbid sense of humour. Or perhaps my using of this photo suggests that it’s just me.
Ever further northward we travel. Only one shot in the near-14 years of this blog has been taken from further north and still been in the UK — that being the one in Thurso on 13/7/25 — but this is a status it will keep only 24 hours. Who cares anyway, Lybster harbour was a tranquil spot on a beautiful evening. Impossible to believe that 150 years ago the herring industry meant this was one of the busiest ports in the country. It isn’t now, for sure.
Being 42 