Joe has appeared on this blog more than anyone, but then again, my genetic heritage is invested in him, so I guess that’s understandable. If we can persuade him to practice enough, he might even open for Iron Maiden one of these days. Although they’re probably all dead by now.
Just held the camera high and pointed downwards. Little more to add, about the photo or the day, but both worked quite well, I think.
No work for two weeks. Took Joe to the new National Football Museum in Manchester, in the former Urbis building, which has already featured on this blog on a few occasions (amongst others, here and here). Here he is face-to-face – kind of – with Joe Hart, Manchester City and England goalkeeper. If asked however, I am sure he would claim that Ben Roche of Morecambe is better. And good for him.
Here I am at the in-laws’ for a bit. It’s the school summer vacation so Joe can stay up until late. Tearing him away from the TV or the DS is a good plan, teaching him the rudiments of cooking, with his gran Carol, an even better one. He can, at least, wield a Worcester sauce bottle with aplomb, as this proves.
Well, there went the first six months of 2012. So far we’ve had four nice weeks of weather (two at the end of March and two at the end of May) and the rest has been dreadful. The nostalgia freaks would have us believe that all children spent their youth frolicking in hayfields at this time of year but it’s hard to engage with that reality at the moment, when it’s raining most of the time. So here’s Joe doing long multiplication. He’s getting kinda good at it.
After the moody soft-focus shot of one member of my immediate family yesterday, another today, of the other member. If you’re in Hebden Bridge, do try the home-made jams from this place (‘Lovegrows’). Yum yum.
The non-democratic British government, and the private capitalists they get to do their dirty work with public services, are so inept they can’t even do the weather right. Last week we were all told that the country currently resides in a state of drought. Since then it’s hardly stopped raining.
It’s not a ‘drought’, anyway. What we are being told is that the private water companies have inefficient water capture systems and a lack of any real conservation strategy. But that’s an undesirable message as far as they’re concerned, and one easy to spin into ‘It’s the Weather. Honest guv. It’s out of our hands.’ No it isn’t. If the government just gave everyone a water butt for free we could sort out a lot of the ‘problems’ by tomorrow morning.
There is a very good judo club in Hebden Bridge – good enough to have produced members of the junior Great Britain team. Joe – that’s him to the right – is not at that standard yet, and probably never will be (though of course, who knows). But I am glad he does this because it’s the one main physical exercise he gets and also I think it’s good for mental discipline. Today he was going through the grading process and is now, I am proud to report, a yellow belt. Which is more than his old man has ever managed in 42.66 years on this planet.
Good Friday, and the 7th football match to feature on this blog since I began on 26/8/11. And of all the 7, this one was the worst. From Joe’s mood here you can tell the match hasn’t kicked off yet. (Result: Burnley 1, Brighton 0. Even completists might be bored by the information that the other six matches on here have ended Morecambe 2-3 Bristol Rovers, Brighton 2-0 Barnsley, Morecambe 1-2 Accrington Stanley, Leeds 1-2 Brighton [Yes!!], Liverpool 6-1 Brighton [er… not so good], Brighton 2-0 Portsmouth.)
Glorious day today, as warm as anywhere I’ve been since last August. Most of the population was out today enjoying it, whether in town, the woods, wherever. I took lots of good photos and the choice was a hard one today, but I picked this just because it’s different, and you’ve seen a lot of photos of town and woods before. Isn’t this beautiful? Like I said with the moss the other day, how much detail there sometimes is when you look closely enough. (Note that you can just see the lens of the camera reflected, almost centrally, in his pupil.)
Being 42 