Monday 13th July 2020, 12.55pm (day 3,245)
From Wednesday this week I am off work for the rest of the month. But until that day is reached, I am like this pen. Just about still functioning but there’s very little left in the tank.
That ominous crumbling, shattering sound you hear from behind closed doors is your local economy. This square, on a Saturday morning, should not be inhabited only by ducks. And even they’re missing their usual benefits. These two were responding to a rumour that bread was being handed out by the old bridge.
My home town would definitely be a worse place without the Hebden Bridge Picture House which has miraculously remained alive throughout the last few decades and thus neither become a Wetherspoons nor a faceless corporate Vue-style operation with no leg room and supplying shit hot-dogs that cost a fiver. Long may it reign. Although it is nevertheless true that the movie we went to see tonight was pretty cruddy (Hereditary – not as good as reputed….).
After three days in a rather blue theme, let’s go monochrome, which seems somehow fitting for the fact I was in work so early this morning this car park hadn’t even begun filling up. Still, it’s my only day in Manchester this week, so let’s be acceptant of it all.
In the summer the university catering service decided they could no longer be troubled to run a café in my building at work — the seats still get used, but there’s no warmth to the place any more. Another shot with emptiness as its theme, like yesterday’s…. maybe this is some big existential crisis brewing.
It’s dim, dull, depressing. I dislike this time of year. Even the Rochdale Canal has given up the ghost in Manchester City Centre. You’d think, as this runs along Canal Street, they’d make an effort. Doubt the bar whose barge-cum-smoking-area lies among the debris is benefiting from this business-wise.
It certainly does. This shop has been empty for some time, doubtless at some point it will turn into a) a boutique cafe and/or micropub b) an art/jewellry/trinket emporium. These are, by law, now the only kinds of premises permitted to open in Hebden Bridge.
Some rivers and lakes around here are somewhat lower than is usual, that is true, but this picture does not represent some heroic water shortage in the north-west of England. Rather, the Warland reservoir is being renovated, so has been drained, its bed exposed and returning to its natural state. There are some bleak panoramas up on the moors round here and the lack of water here doesn’t do this particular one any further favours.