I did two things today which I have not done since 21st March — 1) get on a train 2) go to Manchester.
A tabloid headline seen yesterday exhorted me to “SHOP FOR BRITAIN!” and who am I to ignore the clarion call of the redtops? There weren’t many other people who accompanied me, as evident from this shot of the epicentre of the Manchester Arndale Centre, but I guess that’s something we should approve of, at this time of doublethink.
I’m still trying to keep the step count up, but the weather turned rather grim. Being up on the moors above the town in squally drizzle made the exercise less pleasant than it might have been. But it kept me moving.
The moor here is a riot of cottongrass. I feel it comes out at the wrong time of year — it looks like it should be a December plant, a proxy for snow.
On Sunday our glorious leader Mr. Johnson will apparently announce, well, something: as eagerly awaited as the (absent) football results, this speech will define our fate for the next few weeks. My prediction — we will be let out to work, but not to play, a conclusion I somehow try to illustrate with these taped-up swings in the nearby playground. But who will admit that play creates work…. one of those ‘non-essential’ elements driving the economy and giving meaning to our lives? You can’t have one without the other.
The UK is now formally — but terribly politely — in a state of lockdown. I will not be leaving Hebden Bridge for a while. If this blog is to keep going, new insights will have to be found in familiar places. The words here are to be found on the stairwell up to Clare’s treatment room, shared with a private tutoring service (temporarily closed).
I had to go into Manchester today to pick up some things. This is the 611th photo on this blog that has been taken in the city — but quite possibly the last for some time, unless things change radically. But as you can see, social distancing was maintained. What my feelings are about the steps currently being taken are not relevant here: like I’ve done for the last 3,130 days, I will just do my best to document what I see.
Somehow it seems to be a time to say hi to old friends. It’s been a while since Mr B appeared on here.
A night out, in the company of (for a change) Joe, who wanted to see one of his former schoolmates, Isaac Hughes-Dennis, perform his songs in the Fox & Goose pub. And well worth the walk it was. I am no great judger of musical talent (if I was, I’d be richer) but it has to be said that for a 17 year old he sure knows how to do his thing. Raw material still but he could make it. If he does, we in Hebden saw him first.
In recent months Joe’s average rate of appearance on the blog has dropped, this being the first since 10th November, and that was just his back — 6th October as a proper portrait. The blog reflects life however, and maybe we just aren’t hanging out together as much as we used to. But this Sunday we did, getting a football fix after a blank day yesterday: mind you, it was cold. Anyway, one can use this as a check on his growth since he turned up the very first time in September 2011, more than half his life, and 3,088 days, ago.
Three days in a row in Manchester — teaching must have started again… This also explains the early start today. Expect more of these on subsequent Fridays, to be honest. But at least I know that at 7.15 am in Victoria station, one can purchase pudding and pie.
“You’re not pointing that camera at me, are you?” asks Gus. Well yeah, actually you could see that I was… No offence meant my friend.
Being 42 