This was the view looking up from the dentist’s chair in which I spent a not-entirely-enjoyable 40 minutes this morning. Could have been worse I suppose — and would have been, before convenient local anaesthetics were invented.
The ‘West Riding’ bar on Dewsbury station ranks up there with the world’s great railway station refreshment rooms. It’s quite as good as Stalybridge’s, and that’s high praise indeed. The random scattering of stuff around it, inside and out, seems natural rather than the affectations of an interior designer. It’s been a while since this piano made any music, but it remains interesting in different ways.
My perambulation around the southern parts of England continues. Academic that I am you might have expected Oxford — undoubtedly one of the world’s greatest seats of learning — to have featured on here over the last 11 years (nearly). Its rival Cambridge has done so, and I have to say I do find that the more attractive place of the two. Cambridge has rural charm whereas Oxford is really just a middling-sized city with, admittedly, some pretty fine buildings. But on a sunny, pleasant Monday morning, it’ll do.
At the moment it’s a case of — do I sit at home all day working, or trug into Manchester and sit in my office all day? Well, at least going into Manchester gets me a bit more exercise. There always seems to be at least one person smoking outside this building on Booth Street in the city centre, no matter how early I pass by.
Aberdeen’s debut appearance on this blog was on 24th June 2015 with a picture of a bloke stood in the middle of the River Dee, presumably fishing. Six years and eleven months on, for all I know this is the same bloke, although he’s further downstream than before. Still, I stand by my first impression of that time: that this is a surprisingly attractive city, this river particularly: it’s hard to believe that this is very near the centre of a place with 200,000 inhabitants. The cars on the bridge are the only real hint of urbanity.
Hardly a great photo technically, and converted to black and white as much to conceal deficiencies as any other reason. But it does suggest that when there is a boat in the Canal Street lock in Manchester city centre, this is often the most interesting thing to see on the walk into work. It’s nice that this old transport system is still used: not everything useful has to be hyper-efficient.
Golly, an academic conference. Face-to-face, with real people — the first one for me since Bucharest in January 2020. And plenty of evidence as to what we’ve been missing in the travesties that are the ‘virtual conference’ (of which I have only managed to do one, and that briefly, basically because I liked the people that organised it and didn’t want to let them down). Discussion, spontaneity, conversations in the lunch queue, empathy. To the neo-liberal interests, tech giants and health fascists who say we can all do it online now — I say, get stuffed.
At some yet-to-be-defined point in the future, there will come a day when not only do I have nothing in particular to photograph, but I also don’t manage to take a usable photo of nothing in particular. Today came close, I have to say. I therefore feel it necessary to fall back on this selfie taken in the morning, for no particular reason. I did think of calling it ‘selfie in red shirt’ but then I went monochrome so even that is somewhat indulgent. At least you can check on how I’ve been aging recently. Clare thinks I appear ‘terribly serious’ here but I guess that’s just what I look like at the moment.
A brief stopover on the way home from Newton Stewart. If I was filming a classic 1970s British horror movie in the Dumfries and Galloway region, and I wanted an abandoned church as a location, I’d come and use Anwoth’s, just as did the makers of The Wicker Man. (See this page.)
11 different locations in 11 days — Manchester, Burnley, Brighouse, Mytholmroyd, Leeds, Hebden Bridge, Huddersfield, Carlisle, Polbae, Glen Trool and Anwoth. That’s the second time there’s been such a long run of variation in place.
Finding myself, once again, in the west Leeds suburbs for an evening, I wandered into this Mexican restaurant for dinner and, as with the other diners, found myself in a training session for a new member of the waiting staff, so things were a little chaotic… But everything came out in good time and tasted fine. So I tipped generously, and tried not to get in the way.
Being 42 