A Friday night out, in the kind of lighting which makes taking photos with my point-and-click gear an activity dependent mostly on luck. Great action shots of people dancing don’t really emerge. But this photo of Clare getting the first beers of the evening is at least notable for this being the point when she overtakes Joe as the most-often featured person on here — a status that, all things considered, she will almost certainly now retain.
This would be a marvellous sign to see at any point, but the fact that it sits on the outskirts of Bradford makes it more entertaining still, in my opinion. Not to mention the fine optical illusion evident here. Take a good look — it’s almost like one of those ‘impossible objects’ that work in two dimensions but not three.
After yesterday’s smorgasbord of photo opportunities, today was the first photowhack for a while — that is, this was the only picture I took today. But it is representative; the plum tree is needing some serious attention at the moment. Current rates of production are over a kilogram, or 2.5 pounds, every day. If you want some plums, take them off our hands, please.
Clare, on the right, has her membership card ready for action. The movie, as the title of the post indicates, was Oppenheimer: which is a decent movie, I’ll acknowledge that, but I’ve stopped thinking that any film needs to be three hours long. (Though these three hours were definitely better than the three hours of my life that Beau is Afraid is never giving back.)
Did I mention Joe was back here for a couple of weeks? Well, here he is. The blanket was not unreasonable considering the recent weather. Great encouragement to spend an afternoon in. The movie — Gimme Shelter.
More athleticism. Clare is in training and demanded a hill to run up. The tiny settlement of Nigg, on the Cromarty Firth, obliged this morning. The return to the Black Isle region was motivated largely by my desire to get more photographs of it, particularly of this firth thanks to its collection of old oil rigs and vessels that are either mothballed or being decommissioned. It’s proof that industry need not wreck a landscape.
Our neice Poppy had her 18th birthday party today, in the building ahead; we got there late, thanks to ths usual rubbish on the train line. Clare brings a dash of red to the scene, meanwhile her Dad, i.e. my father-in-law Dave, makes only his second-ever appearance on the blog in 4,250 days.
If there’s DIY to be done about the house, it’s never me that does it.
An inconsequential shot for an inconsequential day, but it does have one claim to significance: this is the first time I have ever managed seven morning shots in a row. Six in a row has been attained several times but never a full week. Getting through the weekend was the trick, at least in this case.
The family’s annual concession of a bit of exercise, alongside the eating and drinking that is also to come. We were only about another fifteen minutes from the pub at this point. Happy Christmas to you all.
It’s not really accurate to say that we came up to Dundee to bring Joe “home” for Christmas. Home, for him, is up here now. You can’t see the windows of his place on this shot but it’s close by. But he was returned to Yorkshire, at least — by 4pm. I like the zones of red on this shot, spacing themselves across the bottom.
Being 42 