If I was 23 years younger, looked like Rhian Teasdale (vocalist and general frontperson of the band Wet Leg), could play the guitar and sing, I’d probably be seeking a career in rock stardom too. She seems to be making a pretty decent job of it.
Well, it’s somewhere over there, anyway. But far enough away to be mostly out of mind. Better and more uplifting things were to be found today on the summit of Kinder Scout, in the Peak District; you can read more about this on my other blog.
Even had I not mentioned the weather conditions in the title of the post, it wouldn’t have taken much effort to figure them out. Hauled myself into Manchester for the first time in a week to be encountered by this ongoing crap. All the umbrellas that are in evidence were just a reminder that I had forgotten to bring my own, so after the 2-mile walk to the office, I then smelt like a wet dog for most of the rest of the day.
Particularly as I am posting rather late, I guess the owner of the red Range Rover has, by now, worked out what happened to his vehicle. I have no idea as to whether they deserved it or not. But it happened, and was duly documented (one presumes not only by me).
As seen from the little-used western footbridge at Victoria station. This picture features many of the same buildings as were seen last Monday — but, you know, a little closer up. And a crane. There’s always a crane.
This is the view from a cattle grid at the end of Crowthorn Road, above the village of Edgworth, passed on my latest County Top walk (see my other blog) — a good walk with decent views, as you can tell. That’s definitely Manchester over there. There is one thing I would remove from this composition: and no, it’s not the wind turbine.
Out there, there might have been some news going on, but I was having nothing to do with it. It was the last day of my teaching semester, so I hauled myself into Manchester once more, managed a couple of shots in the vicinity of Victoria station, and that was it. This one is a combo of colours, shapes and hair. Yes, the post is annoying, but I’ve already cropped out quite a chunk so in it stays.
As will be made obvious by my photographs, I don’t go into Manchester every working day by any means. But when I do, if arriving on platforms 4 or 5 this will invariably be the first thing seen there. Up we all go, to then distribute ourselves through the city by some other means of locomotion.
I got out of the house, at least. One doesn’t often see trains like this, but let’s enjoy it while it lasts, and take a relaxed attitude, as this person seems to be doing.
Never let it be said that I am closed to new experiences, particularly not when they are suggested by the wife, so behold — my first ever ice hockey game. Manchester Storm, in the dark kit, beat Dundee Stars 5-1.
I chose this shot because it illustrates one basic characteristic of the sport, at least from my perspective as a rookie spectator. For a significant slice of the playing time I wasn’t completely sure where the puck was, partly because the sightlines from our seats meant one whole side of the rink was obscured and partly because it just zips around without much pattern or relationship to how the players are moving. I acknowledge the skill, balance and athleticism of the players but based on my having seen some games on TV in the past (particularly in Toronto, where it’s kind of unavoidable) I have previously described ice hockey as ‘like watching a bunch of wasps buzz around in a bottle’. My first experience of watching it live has not changed that opinion.
