Did nothing except trug into campus by the usual routes, do my thing, and trug home again. The usual routes take me through Chinatown, of which Manchester has a large example, the third biggest in Europe if you believe the hype. And I do — it is hard not to, bearing in mind the ethnic composition of my classes at the present time.
Another lecture, only this time I am facing front instead of at the front. For several Mondays over the next few months I will be a student again: the subject, you can see for yourself. ‘Hogwarts’ is, in fact, the Historic Reading Room of the John Rylands Library; a spectacular setting for a class, and somehow appropriate (though this was opened in 1901 and is detinitely not a medieval construction). But by next time I hope they’ve turned the heating on. Mr Rylands himself, or his statue, at least, pokes up behind the screen.
One of the rare cases where I tag a photo as ‘black and white‘ but not ‘monochrome‘. I like the generally muted tones of the shot but the high contrast of the dress makes it stand out. And not just for that reason, either. Whatever she’s getting ready for, I hope it’s important.
I like this photo, so am using it for today, though it’s one of those occasions where I can’t really think of anything much to say about it. We’ll just leave it as it is.
This is one of those occasions where an often-seen view suddenly struck me, for the first time, as possible material for a picture. And with a long zoom, it seems to have worked out. I like the details, such as the panda face to the left. Doubtless if you are Chinese, there will be more. Though apparently, the banners read “Happy New Year” (if the very small writing at the bottom of each is to be believed): proof that this particular culture is no more fastidious about taking down the seasonal decorations than are the English.
This sits on my usual walking route to campus so I know it hasn’t been up for long. I wonder how many other artists who have been dead for 30 years might still receive such tribute. Or perhaps it is a political message. Perhaps the reference is to hidden subliminal messages in Bobby Brown. Perhaps all those 12 key changes in every track will assist in unlocking the secrets of the tellurian currents. But I’m probably not going to start listening to Zappa — I did try, a couple of times, but it really didn’t work out.
Staying over in the Premier Inn after last night’s gig provides the opportunity to observe the morning traffic on the Mancunian Way from fifteen floors up. Heading west seems to be the route of choice, but the one car going east has the preferable journey at the moment, if you ask me.
So that’s another one ticked off the list of ‘Bands I Have Liked for Thirty-Plus Years But Never Before Seen Live’. Then again, Jane’s Addiction did their first ‘farewell tour’ in 1991, have still only ever managed to scrape together four studio albums, and the original four members have only just decided they are still prepared to talk to each other and go on the road again before one or more of them dies. Which in singer Perry Farrell’s case, has always seemed likely to happen imminently. Therefore, I never really had the chance to break the duck before tonight. But I’m not complaining — they were worth the wait.
The sun still seems uninterested in putting in an appearance, and this picture seems to epitomise the general colouring of the UK at this time. Manchester did get a bit more interesting for me later, but that still doesn’t mean it became sunny.
In Manchester, but not my usual parts of the city, so a chance to bring some different views to the blog. The statue of the Dead White Male is of Richard Cobden, and until just now I had no idea who this person was so I have read up about him. It sounds as if he was something of a radical dude, campaigning for years for the repeal of the Corn Laws (which kept the price of bread artificially high and impoverished the masses for the benefit of a few rich landowners), free trade and pacifism. So, go Richard. St Ann’s Church, behind, is a rather noble building as well.
Being 42 