I’m back in London again and here’s one of its best-known landmarks. Actually this hasn’t been called the ‘Post Office Tower’ for a very long time — these days it’s the ‘BT Tower’. But for my generation this always was the Post Office Tower and always will be. Tallest building in the UK from when it was built in 1964 until 1980. There’s still something cute about it; it reminds me of a big light bulb, for some reason.
Passengers in various states of thought and repose, as the train pulled into Rochdale on the way into work. Or, I suspect for the guy immediately opposite me, home after a rather heavy night.
It is plastic, but it does look very realistic, particularly sat on a cushion outside the pub in the sunshine. Many passers-by were seen doing double-takes. Why was it there? Just one element in a range of junk (hence the pile behind it), passing through.
I’d say ‘it’s that time of year again’ but this is the first mid-July since 2019 where there have been such scenes around campus. Ceremony does matter: it’s good to see these return.
“Who are you then? I haven’t seen you before.” Nope; and they won’t see me again: but this morning I found myself temporarily responsible for these (roughly) six-week-old chickens, living still in their plastic incubator and definitely in need of plenty of liquid on these hot days. I conducted roll call, watered them and left them to it.
For the duration of this visit, and certainly today, its final morning, Dundee has basked in balmy sunshine that is atypical for the city. It contributed to a pleasantly chilled out wait for the train heading back south, which I think this couple epitomise. (My journey was fine all the way to Bradford, after which it descended into a farce of the kind only Northern Rail seem able to manufacture, but that’s another story, hours in the future.)
So precisely has my reflection been split by this bevelled mirror (in Frew’s Bar, Dundee) that the sprouting of hair above my ear appears on the lower part. I like this cubist homage as it was an occasion where the shot I sought was precisely achieved.
In the Blackness area of Dundee there is this huge old industrial complex, now abandoned and crumbling. Open doors and windows allow views inside here and there, like this one, which I nearly entitled ‘Arson attack waiting to happen’: tyres burn most satisfactorily, and for a long time. The place is for sale, and I wonder whether there is profit in buying it and keeping it this way, as a film set or somewhere that urban explorers can simply be let loose to play.
My son might have chosen to live out his university years in a place (Dundee) that is about as far as he could have got from us in West Yorkshire, while staying in the UK. But, there are compensations. Over in the distance, Arthur’s Seat and Edinburgh. Closer to the camera, the Firth of Forth, all taken just before passing through Burntisland station.
What beauty there is in this filament. As if it is a whole swirling galaxy of electric light. Worlds within worlds, within such an everyday thing.
Being 42 