Clare has her little daily projects too. Maybe that’s one reason why we’ve managed to stick it out for 25 years (and counting) as a couple. 2019 had its temperature scarf, one line per day; 2021 was recorded on this quilt, one square per day recording weather conditions. Ask C what the coding is…
Halifax Minster is a great, soot-coated monolith of a church, and its gate provides a suitably Gothic (and autumnal) vista for this year’s Halloween shot, with Clare playing the part of the spectral apparition. Maybe. Anyway, with this shot, the town of Halifax hauls itself up to 9th place in the ‘all-time list’ (see the stats), with its 34th appearance on this blog.
As this blog cycles (seemingly endlessly) around the calendar there are certain fixed points, and 26th October is one of them — Clare’s birthday. Here she is celebrating it with lunch in the White Lion — her parents, my in-laws, unseen to the left. Happy happies to her: I shall demur from reporting the exact number, but it’s several years fewer than me, anyway.
A day out at the football, and it was Clare’s idea. She sits there looking rather amused at the boisterous but harmless fellow Morecambe FC fans who took over The Leopard pub near Doncaster station at lunchtime. The stencil of Pelé, to the right, also sets the tone. Sadly, no one was feeling as boisterous after watching a rather tame 1-0 defeat, but that was all still to come.
The beginning of what will probably be a trilogy of pictures. On Saturday Joe leaves home — at least for university, in Dundee. We took him out for dinner tonight, not very far away (hence this also becomes the 1,500th Hebden Bridge picture to feature on the blog). Of course I sincerely hope this will not be his ‘last supper’. But whether he will ever live here again in the truly permanent sense that he has for the last 18 years, five months and five days (he has never lived in any other house than he does now) — who knows… But that’s the thing about the future, isn’t it? Who knows?
Clare reaches the top of the steps that take one up onto the Bowder Stone — a famous attraction of the Lake District that I have never before seen. Its name is tautological, for a big Bowder (boulder) it certainly is; hollow it out, install plumbing, and I imagine a family of three could live inside in comfort.
As you are probably aware, there was some interest in another football match taking place this evening, and we did watch it, but photographically, this is a better representation of the day. Clare takes a look around on the fourth leg of our attempt to walk the Calderdale Way in stages — see also Feb 28th, Mar 20th, May 25th — we’ve just about passed the halfway point. The aim was (although C has been heard to deny this) to get it all done within 2021. Three more legs to go now.
A weekend away with the family. Corse Hill sits in the middle of a gigantic wind farm and although not a dramatic spot, was a nice place to break the journey north to Scotland and did become my 32nd county top — and Clare and Joe have picked up a few as well. C. looks suitably satisfied, Joe’s checking his phone, but that’s what he does.
The first non-English shot since 18th September 2020, which was day 3,312; thus, a run of 259 English-only shots comes to an end.
Morecambe FC’s impressive season continues but even though fans have been graciously allowed to return to grounds thanks to the decrees of Our Glorious Leaders, this is in arbitrarily low numbers, so no chance of getting tickets for the play-off semi-final this lunchtime. A hunt around the local hostelries ended up with Clare (the real MFC fan) and I (the hanger-on) watching it in Halifax. The effort was worth it; they will be at Wembley on the 31st. Go Shrimps…!
Conversation between me and the First Wife this afternoon…. “What are you up to?” “I’m sorting out my life.”
Well, who am I to argue. The dots mean something, apparently. Don’t ask me what.
Being 42 