I had managed to keep a low profile for the last week or so, by being in France, but there really was no avoiding it today. Welcome back to them all anyway — after all, they are why we here. (Yes, I do believe that still.)
I was supposed to be flying to St Malo in France today, for the ECIL conference (which in past years has been responsible for the appearance of Dubrovnik, Tallinn and Prague on the blog). However, what you see here is the aftermath of the reason why I have only thus far made it as far as Guernsey in the Channel Islands. There I was meant to change planes, but we ended up departing five hours late from Manchester as, when the first plane began pushing back away from gate 21, its wingtip managed to spear the catering van you see here in the centre. So off we passengers all toddled and returned to the terminal, while (count ’em) eighteen people, including a whole slew of hi-vis and two fully armed coppers stood around doing not very much that could be seen as productive. Nice to see so many people gainfully employed by such a cockup. So that’s me in France 24 hours later than scheduled then — just as well I wasn’t down to do my keynote speech on Monday morning.
However you make ‘miracle substance’ graphene, or go about making it into things once you’ve got it, you clearly need a lot of liquid nitrogen to do it with…. Early morning delivery here at the National Graphene Institute, from the big tanker out of shot to the right. And yes, I was on campus by just after 8am. How keen of me.
My walk to work this morning took twice as long as usual due to having to take shelter twice from vicious bouts of rain. I’m inside here (in Caffe Nero as it happens, and yes, I had bought a cup of tea), hence the reflections in the coat of the woman on the left. Inside was the place to be at this time, I can assure you, and I’m sure these two would agree with me.
The “Deaf Institute” might seem a strange name for a place that puts on regular gigs, but that’s what its called, or more precisely, it’s what the building was when it was first built in Victorian times. For the last six years it has been running as a rather decent bar, club, venue arrangement. The gig tonight? Tom McCrae, one of the wife’s favourites. I guess he’s decent enough. I quite like this shot because of the microphone.
Joe and his fellow 14-year-olds returned to school. I returned to Manchester. It threw it down. There went the summer…. This picture is dull, I know. But it’s meant to be.
It’s nice to travel — even if it’s for work — but it’s just as nice to come home. I don’t know where this is exactly, somewhere in Derbyshire I’m guessing. Pennines, for sure. And in the middle of a valley like this, I live, so it’s representative enough, welcome home.
Whatever has happened down the years to the configuration of Manchester Victoria station, this footbridge is definitely less used than it must once have been. The only time it’s really worth using it is if you’re sat at the back of the 8:05 from Hebden Bridge, which stops on platform 6 and the principal footbridge gets clogged up with the contents of the full train, this one is slightly nearer. But hey, it’s got an interesting view.
Finally, a street in Manchester which seems to have rid itself of its building works. New Market has had its transformation sporadically documented on here: this was it before the building, this one during, and now above. Was it worth all the bother? The premises on the right have become a hotel in the mean time: but I wouldn’t say much else has happened.
The Arndale Centre, like most of the rest of Manchester city centre, is in a state of renovation; but Next is Open As Usual, so those of us passing can be reassured that living that lifestyle is still possible.
Being 42 