There has been a considerable amount of travelling evident over the last two months, and it’s not quite finished yet: I have one more trip to make, coming up. But this week it has been time to settle in back home, and expect most of July and all of August to be much the same, I have writing to get on with. Meanwhile, though, a hole in an old bucket. It might not be in Canada, or Namibia, but it’s still something to enjoy.
With no running water on our allotment we depend for irrigation there either on rain or on lugging up liquid from the house. The buckets are waiting… but the rain has not come. So the bottles go up the hill, again and again.
We were on Keighley station a couple of weekends ago, but hey, here we are again. We had a free ticket and it was something to do. I choose this picture today partly because of the colour and shapes, but mainly because the sign above makes it look like these are the rudimentary toilet facilities. I mean, I know this heritage railway is preserving how things were a hundred years ago or whatever, but this seems to be taking it a bit far.
Being 42 