It is still September. It is still the first half of September. But the Gospel Oak pub, in Tipton, West Midlands, cares nothing for such pedantries. Here, it is Christmas already, so they can advertise their seasonal ‘wear a shite jumper’ dinners (starting November 11th, if you’re interested). There is something deeply depressing about this.
Out on the path through the woods above the Hebden Water, someone has been dressing the trees, guerrilla-style. Happy Christmas to them, and, indeed, to you. I hope you enjoyed the day in whatever way you saw most fit. But that is, of course, true of every day.
Did not feel a great deal more interested in engaging with the world today than I did yesterday, but was obliged to haul myself into Manchester in any case. The city seems to have definitively adopted Alan Turing (that’s him…) as one of its own, despite the fact that he only spent the very last portion of his truncated life here. But hey, there are many worse and less significant people to eulogise.
We love them for those three weeks in December — but then we cast them out for the woodchipper. ‘A tree is for life, not just for Christmas….’? (I’m not being entirely serious you know.)
This shot is taken in London, as I had to come down to get a Russian visa for my imminent next trip to Moscow. This is the 52nd shot on the blog to be taken here, which means it finally overtakes Brisbane as the fourth-most depicted place after Hebden Bridge, Manchester and the Lake District.
Being 42 