An abstract, though it does represent the fact that the two trains I caught today were punctual to the minute: a good start for 2026. Let’s see how long it takes before this perfect record is broken; I predict Sunday.
Scene, today, of one of those ‘ghost buses’ — it appears on all the information boards, Google Maps tells us that it is merrily trundling in our direction, on schedule — but no bus appears and we get to sit around another half hour or so for the next one. I realise this is not an injustice akin to, say, slavery, or Trumpism, but nevertheless. At least the forced sojourn did leave some time for photography.
There have been a couple of exceptions — namely 2018, when I was in Germany, and 2021 on St Helena (and in 2019 I was about to go to Indonesia but not quite yet on my way) — but the 22nd November is not usually a date on which much happens. I find this a depressing, enervating time of year to be honest. Everything’s in decline yet we are still weeks from the turnaround point at the solstice. This rose hip (and feel free to correct me if I’ve got the botany wrong) is still putting in an effort, I guess, but most of the rest of nature has kinda given up. I know how it feels.
Brighouse is modest enough, having never given anything of huge significance to the world (except what is reputed to be one of the world’s best brass bands). But it’s an OK place generally, and to look at. Magnificent? Well…. maybe, in a modest sort of way.
As seen on the canalised part of the River Calder, in Brighouse, early this afternoon. I hope it was enjoying the sunshine, as it gave its demonstration of fluid dynamics.
I wonder how many different public houses have appeared on here over the last 12 years. Quite a few I imagine. Free advertising: the Ship in Brighouse does very good BLT sandwiches for only £3.50. And thanks to its Halloween decorations, it gives good purple — a shade almost exactly matched by the woman’s coat, which I think is why I like this shot.
In all the fuss about the plums this year, we risk forgetting that these equally scrumptious beauties have also had a very fine summer. I just wish that come November, our supermarket shelves won’t be stuffed with the identical product, but shipped over from Guatemala.
A week off work thus far, and, including today, three days still to come. Perhaps I could have made more of an effort today, but beer was certainly a constitutive part of Saturday 8th April 2023, so let’s celebrate it.
High pressure and warm air idling up from Spain, apparently, made this surely the warmest and most pleasant November 12th in my lifetime — even on St Helena last year it was not as nice as this. I refuse to consider this a bad thing: not on the day, at least. I’m sure the ducks think it’s better than the alternative as well.
A slightly familiar scene perhaps, whether generally or specifically to this location and club. But I don’t care. This take on it pleases me and although my lot (in orange) lost 2-0 this was the most pleasant thing about the day.
Being 42 