A hidden corner of campus. This shot has no deeper meaning, I just like the textures, of trunk, undergrowth, the wall. Although maybe that stuff on the wall is mould, but then again, you should see our bathroom wall.
I have put in plenty of hours already this week and there are still two long and busy days to come. So no, I don’t really care that I was in the White Swan before 4pm today. And, I’m sure, nor does the other guy.
In 2025, Bradford will become the UK’s City of Culture, and the sign proclaims this: from the rear, the slope on the left is one of the 2s, with the zero to the other side. Behind, a small part of the gigantic, desperate building site that constitutes most of its city centre at the present time. The bus station is entirely closed, having been declared unsafe a while back. You can’t get a taxi from anywhere particularly near the railway station. And all this with exactly eleven weeks to go until 1st January. City of Culture? Perhaps this chaos and neglect is, indeed, representative of the UK in this epoch.
Spinningfields is the bit of Manchester city centre by the John Rylands Library, behind me at this point and outside which I was sat waiting for my second 2pm Monday class to start. The lack of people in the vicinity was the first thing I noticed and prompted the taking of this shot; an attempt to get a pleasing mix of line and colour, basically. Clare says she ‘likes the turquoise’, and who am I to argue?
There has been a long period where no herons were to be seen on the weir on the Hebden Water in town, but in the last couple of weeks there has been one there every day. Presumably, the same one: but I can’t confirm whether this is one of the two that were photographed regularly a few years back. It’s probably not. Anyway, it’s nice to see one of them again: they really are the most patient of creatures.
That’s definitely some rain coming in. The players are about to get wet, as, I imagine, are most of the people sat in the main stand to the left, with its rather inadequate roof. At least those of us stood on the ‘East Paddock’ of AFC Fylde’s Mill Farm stadium had more satisfactory cover.
The Pennines are, definitely, the vertebrae of Britain (supporting the large, shaggy head that is Scotland). And today I, definitely, walked from one side of them to the other, starting a hike in Greenfield on the west and ending it in Marsden to the east: with the town seen in the background here being Huddersfield. Today, therefore, I definitely crossed England, in watershed terms anyway. The two guys seen here may or may not have done the same.
Can I note, though, that a lot of England’s spine is comprised of peaty, boggy shit. Get it cleaned up, England!
What is this for, really? Surely if you want people to ‘drive normally’ up Oxford Road into Manchester city centre putting up a sign suggesting that they do so is exactly the way not to achieve this? “Hmmm, I thought I was driving normally, but… now I’m confused, what do they mean….” (screech of brakes as the now-distracted driver drifts to the side and takes out the Deliveroo guy).
In training for the ongoing Pigeon-Duck Conflict (depicted several times on here), Bob completes his latest bout of callisthenics with close supervision from the sergeant-majors. He’ll soon be ready for action down at the marina, where it’s rumoured there are also geese about, so he needs to work on those reaction times.
I notice that almost exactly three years ago, on 7/10/21, I illustrated that there were still plums on our tree (albeit being eaten by insects). This year, those fruit were all gone by the end of August. But it’s time for the apple tree to pay off. It never matches the production rate of its neighbour, but it does just fine each year. On this shot I note also the matching car behind (yes, our kitchen is that close to the road).
Being 42 