I do not know exactly what principle of physics this straw is demonstrating, but I will take a stab at it: whether because it is black or not, it has absorbed and retained a certain amount of heat. Enough, anyway, to keep the liquid around it just that little bit warmer and thus precipitate out the bubbles. Sounds plausible, right? But I am guessing.
It was a tense one, but I think Jack (on the left and playing white) just nicked it in the end.
I did get very close today to the ‘having nothing to photograph’ assessment — but I did get the marking done. Justification for the latest trip to the pub, anyway: I am now officially On Sabbatical. As I ordered the first pint of this period I was reminded that I do like pub regular Jim’s habit of claiming his daily bottle of red wine. But even that, I couldn’t get properly in focus.
I wasn’t participating, just documenting. And out celebrating having finished the end of the latest bout of marking.
A week off work thus far, and, including today, three days still to come. Perhaps I could have made more of an effort today, but beer was certainly a constitutive part of Saturday 8th April 2023, so let’s celebrate it.
An abstract, but appropriate metaphor for life today. The signature on the glass says John Smith but the product is different. And, no, it’s not all the same in the end.
After ten shots in a row with no people on them, let’s admit I do still occasionally join the social world. And Whitelock’s in Leeds really is a fine place to do it: the blue plaque acknowledging that this is a pub with much history, opened in 1715 and still going very strong. Arguably this place is the best thing about Leeds, and that’s not even to diminish the rest of the city.
This is definitely a coven of like-minded females, and they’re plotting something. But I’m confident that they’re of the white persuasion, somehow. It’s the hair that gives away their shared allegiance.
I think this sums up this particular acquaintance. If the guy that you think is Jim doesn’t have a glass of red wine in front of him, then it’s not him.
Is it too early to be in the pub on a Saturday afternoon? When the weather outside is as grim as it was today, then no. The welcome inside was much warmer.
Being 42 