Saturday 21st December 2013, 2.10pm (day 849)
Thanks to the valley wall to the south of the town, Hebden Bridge gets an earlier sunset each day than the planet’s axial tilt otherwise decrees; and today is the earliest of all.
Being 42
Life, one day at a time
Tag Archives: Hebden Bridge
Last day of school
Friday 20th December 2013,3.05pm (day 848)
Clare awaits the emergence of our son, which like all things he has done his whole life, will happen in its own sweet time. One way or another, two weeks off for the lot of us.
Winter berries, Keighley Road
Sunday 15th December 2013, 2.20pm (day 843)
A fairly lazy but pleasant Sunday today. There are still things growing round here, occasionally in some profusion — which I guess is a good thing if you are the kind of creature (like a bird) who still needs to forage for their meals in mid-December. And no, I can’t remember what kinds of berries these are, I know I should know but there you go….
The Rocky Horror Show
Friday 30th November 2012, 9.20pm (day 463)
We had this at our local cinema tonight. Let’s do the Timewarp again.
Seagulls, Hebden Bridge
Friday 23rd November 2012, 11.40am (day 456)
In Northern England it’s never possible to be that far from the sea, but here in Hebden Bridge we are about as far as you can get. Nevertheless these seagulls seemed to wish to make the old bridge their home this morning. Of course, what they don’t know is that I’m the Hebden Bridge Seagull in these parts (see the Brighton & Hove Albion thing).
Sad dog, St. George’s Square
Sunday 7th October 2012, 3.50pm (day 409)
I guess dogs can have a long day, and feel tired at the end of it, just as we can. It was a decent, sunny day today, it’s been a good weekend for me in various ways, but though I don’t share this animal’s feelings, I do sympathise.
The patient angler
Sunday 2nd September 2012, 11.25am (day 374)
When I was in the Lousiana swamp a few weeks back I saw alligators – we definitely don’t have them in Yorkshire. Cypresses and wolf spiders, spotted on the tour, are also not usually seen round here. But when the guide pointed out a sleek, tall drink of water of a bird with a beak like a dagger, a fish’s worst nightmare – oh yeah, we have them in Yorkshire. Really? Yes, really. Herons often fish in the river that runs through the centre of town. And here is one, just to prove it. Handsome beast, isn’t it?
Late August shadows
Tuesday 28th August 2012, 9.35am (day 369)
The wildly optimistic part of me still thinks that come September maybe we will get a run of nice warm and sunny days, but even if September in the UK can often be fine that is probably clutching at straws. The day was a largely pleasant one but there was just something autumnal about the morning, a crispness in the air that foretells the cold to come.
Husky Convention
Sunday 26th August 2012, 4.10pm (day 367)
So, it’s my birthday. I’m 43. The name of this blog is now out of date but I might as well keep it. I could have tried to post a picture that represented the celebrations somehow but I didn’t do anything particularly different – although the afternoon was a fun one and spent with friends. While sitting at the Shoulder of Mutton pub in the centre of Hebden Bridge there was this parade of husky dogs, there must have been some kind of meeting of an owners’ club as they were everywhere. And why not show them off, because they were truly beautiful creatures, and obliging models too. So we’ll start the second year with a picture of one of them.
The Railway, in exile
Friday 29th June 2012, 5.45pm (day 309)
While I have been away in Russia, the clean-up has continued back home, and the end cost starts to be more apparent. My local, the Railway – where I have probably drunk twice a week, maybe more on average, for 10 years, is closed for two to three months. Several other businesses may not reopen at all, the cost of the cleanup not being worth the trouble. A furniture retailer in Mytholmroyd lost half a million pounds of stock in a single night. And probably the insurers will bicker about something.
Anyway, those of us who frequent the Railway have, for a while, had to find somewhere else to spend our Friday evenings. Today it was Marshall’s bar: themselves unable to serve anything on draught, cans and bottles only. It felt slightly wrong, but not too bad. I wish it hadn’t had to happen, however.
Being 42 