With five minutes to go in Chadderton v Burscough, the score still 0-0 and a big chunk of the Atlantic Ocean seemingly pouring from above, I am sure I was not the only one wondering why I was still there. At least this person had some protection. I notice the title of the post might also refer to the netting, which I have included mainly because it seems to enhance the rain effect. Did I mention it was raining?
This brand of beer (not mine, but the wife drinks it) has recently appeared at the Railway and the almost unanimous contention among the clientele is that its logo is quite the worst and most inappropriate piece of branding ever seen there — and it appears on the pump, too (an ugly, blocky, monstrous columnar thing that now dominates the bar). Why does a sweaty male figure who looks like a cross between Boris Yeltsin and Boris Johnson — definitely a Boris then — somehow epitomise a Spanish beer with a woman’s name? And did I really have nothing better to photograph on a Friday? Both of these things seem to have come to pass, though.
And most of us were listening to it — honest. (To be fair to the guy on the left, he’s keeping an eye on the Zoom room.) Golly, three days in a row in Manchester: that’s an outbreak of keenness, particularly in a week when I didn’t have any lectures to deliver.
Another well-lit shot of flora on campus, taken within a few yards of yesterday’s shot. At least the sun is shining at the moment and we have not yet quite hit the usual early December gloom. And look, people! There haven’t been many of them in the last three weeks… And no I don’t care about the asymmetry.
I believe these clusters of bright and, definitely, orange berries are firethorn [genus Pyracantha] — doubtless someone will correct me if I am wrong. A whole slew of them have grown to cover the fence outside the Ellen Wilkinson Building, anyway. Valuable winter bird food, apparently.
Considering it was a rather dank and gloomy day it was a bit surprising to see the Moon shining so brightly through the skylight in the attic early this evening. I offer this photo as proof that, first, my camera’s long zoom still works reasonably well and that, second, the windows of our skylights are not quite as covered in cack as I thought they were: this is definitely taken through glass.
In case you hadn’t noticed, it’s already Christmas, certainly as far as the retailers are concerned. Hence the availability today in Hebden Bridge of coasters made from those plastic detachable bits in the middle of vinyl records. Call it ‘upcycling’ if you like. I guess I see the point: I didn’t buy one, though.
On a day of almost constant rain these two made a stoic but attractive couple. The one on the left is certainly thinking a) why he has been so carefully groomed, almost like an anatomical diagram and b) why, unlike his mate, he wasn’t deemed worthy of a coat.
Mulling over the choices for today’s photo I said to Clare, “Is this one a bit too pathetic?”, and she replied, “maybe, but it sums her up quite well, it’s Trixie’s role to look neurotic and a bit pathetic”. This is true — except when a strange dog dares to approach her, then she turns very territorial. She hogs the fire, too. But of course we know all these things about her because she’s part of the pack.
I know I said yesterday that the weather was coming in, but this is ridiculous…. Behold, though, the opening frames of a certain 1980s TV classic, watched in its entirety tonight. Apart from Zaphod Beeblebrox, who adds almost nothing to it, it’s still funny and clever. There’s absolutely no plot, though.
Being 42 