There aren’t many British cities where I’ve never set foot, but until tonight, Southampton was one of them. Boarding port of the Titanic and still one of the UK’s major ports, though still probably not as significant as Portsmouth nearby, which may rile Sotonians, but I am ignorant of the details of the local rivalries. This is the smallest picture, in kilomegabytes, to be uploaded for a couple of years.
I’m not the only one who does this random non-league football thing, you know. In fact this was a pleasant evening, and there are certainly worse things to do on a Tuesday. Taken at Hurst Cross, home of Ashton United FC, during tonight’s game against local rivals Curzon Ashton. This ground has been in continuous use since September 1884, making it one of the oldest football grounds in the world.
A slightly familiar scene perhaps, whether generally or specifically to this location and club. But I don’t care. This take on it pleases me and although my lot (in orange) lost 2-0 this was the most pleasant thing about the day.
It’s not really the aurora of course. But the sunset tonight was doing a reasonable impression of it. The nights draw in….
Another damp day. With only occasional breaks, it feels like it’s been raining for weeks. A misty car park somewhere in the western reaches of Leeds. In the distance another soul who, like me, is just glad to find a game on. This shot is a relative rarity for me, as it’s one where I don’t mind the cars.
Evening on Hebden Bridge station, platform 1. But am I leaving town, or coming back? That’s for me to know. Perhaps it is all the same thing in the end.
Jamestown is one of the very few places in St Helena where you can actually get down to sea level, and that, plus its place on the leeward side of what can be a rather windy island, is why the town is there. There’s no actual harbour, though. The boats and yachts congregate out to sea, and this evening, caught a few rays.
I have to move into different accommodation for the last few days of my stay and am unlikely to get internet access for the remaining time here; so the next few days probably won’t be uploaded until I get home on December 2nd. See you then.
Friday night — and I’m out! In every sense of the term. So were plenty of other people who were on the flight, ten days ago. The Muleyard pub in Jamestown hosted ex-pats and locals alike, and we all celebrated being part of the land of the living.
Yonge Street is the spine of Toronto, defining the point at which the west side becomes the right side and vice versa. As it is the address of the nearest pub to my hotel, I’ve been hanging out there a lot in the evenings. This picture pleases me because it’s basically the one I hoped would come out when I took the shot. The guy sitting in the gutter looks enveloped by the red tail lights that appear to have passed on both sides of him.
Another Friday night passes. Not just an ordinary Friday either, but the last working day of 2020, the start of the run-up to Christmas, ‘Mad Friday’, it goes by many names. And here we are, trying to feel human and social while sat by the river looking at the willows, here illuminated by headlights shining from the car park above our heads. It’s life, Jim, but not as we know it.
Being 42 