Number N+1 in the occasional series on here, Blokes Who Make Their Living A Long Way Up In The Air. In fact you can’t even see the occupant of this cradle, it’s more of an abstract. I couldn’t work in such a way, or location.
Must have had at least a dozen attempts at capturing this example of insectile wiggliness. Don’t know why we call them ‘bumblebees’ though — they don’t seem to bumble to me, they are very systematic. Just this much time at each flower. Which is why, once I finally got the rhythm of it, I got the shot.
The picture was taken mainly because of the bright orange water of the Trent and Mersey Canal at this point (Kidsgrove, on the Staffordshire/Cheshire border). Such things are not usually a good sign. The mystery of why this colour is there was not solved until just a short while ago, as I prepared to post this by looking up some information about the Harecastle Tunnel, the north entrance of which is just visible in the background, to the left of the guys on the towpath. There is an old version of this tunnel running parallel to it that has been closed for over a century now, and apparently, leaches iron ore into the water. So it’s always orange — this is not some recent chemical spill. I don’t imagine drinking the water does anyone much good. Unless they’re anaemic I suppose.
I knew in advance that today’s shot would be taken at home in Hebden Bridge, meaning it would become the 2,000th HB shot to feature on here. Knowing also that not a great deal was going to happen on the day I thought I might as well make #HB2000 as typical as possible. Hi to Johnny and Mary therefore, who I see often enough in this spot, particularly in the summer. (In the winter we would be twenty yards to the right, and inside….)
It’s nice when my students can still impress me, and, currently, Keela’s dissertation project is certainly doing that — although I can’t tell you what it is, not for any sinister reasons but just because it’s not finished yet and not my business to tell you. But, yes, it involves virtual reality, she doesn’t wear a rig on a regular basis. I do not believe my office noticeboard has featured before so there you go, a chance to check out the randomly accumulated display of items upon it for the first, and who knows, perhaps the last time.
These curious new black boxes have appeared on most of the telegraph poles round here, perhaps they are installations for the great system of surveillance that has doubtless, by now, permeated every aspect of our lives. Though I suppose I do offer up plenty of information about my whereabouts on a voluntary basis. I doubt I would be happy spending my working life fifteen feet up in the air but presumably he’s used to it.
“OK, are you ready? I want you to get my best side…. THAT’S the one. Send me a copy….”
I seem unable to get outside much at the moment — this is the fifth interior in a row and the 11th in the last 13 days. But I do have some work to do. For now, at least. Note: Drew is not a student midwife. The journey that mug has made in order to now reside at our place has been a saga in itself, in fact.
I have had one of those weekends where I did virtually nothing but still reached the end feeling no more refreshed than I was on Friday afternoon. The Handmade Parade, in all its colour and movement, had been taking place earlier in the day but I do not feel I got a representative picture of it — the day was much more as seen here, kind of soft-focus and dim. The recent run of interiors therefore continues.
With little else to do today (the football season hasn’t started yet), I visited the Calderdale Industrial Museum and learned some things about local industry around the Halifax area that I didn’t know before. Like, John Mackintosh became very rich and successful, founding the company that bore his name, and whose successors still manufacture Quality Street chocolates in Halifax, thanks only to the cooking of his wife Violet. She was the one who invented modern toffee — he was the one who called himself “The Toffee King”, though.
But for the photo, I’ll go with this mass of red and blue strands of wool, all converging into the Jacquard loom that is currently operating to the right, having been turned on for a few minutes during which time it produced plenty of noise and a few dozen lines of carpet.
Being 42 