By Low Moor station, in Bradford, there lies this huge industrial complex: silos, pipes, frames, boxes, brickwork, but no people. It hums and burbles to itself as it gets on with whatever it is doing — there is no way to tell what this is, no corporate signage, no advertising. In the coming AI- and machine-ruled future, perhaps the whole world will look like this. But it is interesting to look at, all the same.
The cherry blossom in the courtyard at work had been and gone six weeks ago, but the more exposed trees outside the White Lion in Hebden Bridge require more lead-in time to reach full flower. Still, here they are — in time to make the place look good for the Easter daytrippers.
More of a mood piece than anything else: a pleasant, springlike, Easter Saturday spent (in part) ambling along the Rochdale Canal at Smithy Bridge. Here, we are about half way between Hebden Bridge and Manchester; keep going long enough and the entire canal may get documented on here eventually.
Busied myself up enough to get to the Lake District once more: those who follow my other blog can read all about my day there. Gray Crag was the most dramatic object seen — but fortunately not climbed — today (I’ve done it before, and it’s proper work I can tell you). Below it to the left, just visible, Hayeswater, which supplies the taps of Penrith a dozen or so miles away, hence the need for the access road. But I don’t think that spoils the shot; instead, like a necklace, it seems to accentuate the graceful lines of this fell.
Today was the first day of my Easter holiday, and I definitely did very little. This insect was far busier. I know that even without deeply entering into its lifestyle, or anything.
Spent the day doing much the same things as yesterday, hence this photo hits much the same themes. But still, why not? People! In rooms together, thinking! It’s about time.
Golly, an academic conference. Face-to-face, with real people — the first one for me since Bucharest in January 2020. And plenty of evidence as to what we’ve been missing in the travesties that are the ‘virtual conference’ (of which I have only managed to do one, and that briefly, basically because I liked the people that organised it and didn’t want to let them down). Discussion, spontaneity, conversations in the lunch queue, empathy. To the neo-liberal interests, tech giants and health fascists who say we can all do it online now — I say, get stuffed.
An excuse today to walk through some parts of Manchester that I don’t frequent often. Although the brick rectangle to the bottom left annoys me somewhat, I think that this shot reflects, for me, the way Manchester seems to have developed in the last ten years or more. Significant parts of it aspire to be the hypermodern ‘skyscraper forest’ these days, but the old industrial landscape hangs on here and there.
Actually, home, in the strictest sense, is a little to the right of this shot. But this is, near enough, where I’ve located myself for the last 21.75 years. There are reasons.
Ivy House FC (of Halifax) come out for the start of the second half at the rather picturesque, if basic, ground of Midgley United. They were 1-0 down at this point but recovered for the draw. But who cares about the game today? I went for the landscape, and it did not disappoint.
Midgley has appeared once before on the blog, on 17th December 2013, day 845. Returning after 3,035 days, this little village on the hillside between home and Halifax now takes over (from Nottingham) as the place with the longest gap between appearances.
Being 42 