Life’s present exciting status continues (that was sarcasm) and so the most attractive photo opportunity of the day was the wife’s sorting out of the local wool stock. Apparently the light-coloured stuff was what was needed for the project, so out of the bag it came. The vague flesh-coloured blur to top left may or may not be the sorter.
Penmaenmawr, on the coast of North Wales, must have been a notable holiday resort in the past. Apparently the Victorian Prime Minister, Gladstone, liked it so much he came for a stay year after year. Hard to imagine him (or Rishi Sunak) doing that now, however. The A55 trunk road came ploughing through in the 1980s, ripping apart town and beach, and based on my visit there today, Penmaenmawr has yet to recover, and probably will never do so.
Still, credit for a little initiative — these beach huts are embedded right into the wall that supports the road above, which must therefore have been built that way. So you could argue that they tried. It didn’t work, though. As a result, most likely this will be Penmaenmawr’s only ever appearance on this blog, but at least it is a colourful and sunny one.
Hebden Bridge in autumn plumage. A nice place to be. Cold at the moment, though, but the trees look good.
Who doesn’t love the colours in autumn, a last hurrah before the greyness of winter. I like the remaining green on this shot and the sinuous branch, with its two duck-heads.
Not pictured on this shot: vast numbers of people. The woods of Hardcastle Crags were heaving today. Because, if you take away other normal weekend entertainments, people will do what they must in order to stay physically and mentally healthy, which is to get out of the house to wherever is available. Thus, congregating closer together than they would otherwise have done, and defeating the object of this latest stupid, mindless, arbitrary attempt at social control.
First to be explicitly depicted on the blog, anyway — seen by sticking my head (and lens) upwards on a day trip to the in-laws’. The world turns…
The clocks went back last night, and winter draws closer. But no one has told this tree yet and it’s determined to go out in a blaze of glory.
Being 42 