There was no prospect at all of my leaving the house today. Thoughts — and the discussions with the Zoomland colleagues depicted, vaguely, at the top of the laptop screen — were of planning for next year, not finishing off this one. This is a photowhack: the one and only photograph I took today.
Paid one of my occasional visits to campus today; I count 22 pictures in Manchester in 2024, so one every 10 days, and not all necessarily because of work. Not that there seem to be many people around when I do turn up, although this is excusable in August.
“Hello… hello? Can you hear me…..?” [pause] “I think you’re on mute….” Did the Starship Enterprise’s communications network have a ‘mute’ button do you think? Colleague Louis does his best.
Look, it’s got my name on it (on the pink bit), my handwriting and everything. The ideas were those of everyone around the table however, and things are not yet finished, either. I can occasionally still be motivated to think about things that matter to my employer — and thus my students — rather than me personally.
I am not having a dig at UNESCO, activities with whom have, in the past, led me to some interesting places (like Siberia for instance). But this wasn’t one of those. The generally somnolent look of the people depicted on screen here — including myself, managing to not look like I am taking a photograph at this point in time — suggests that this ‘test session’ for an online gig taking place in two weeks’ time was not the most exciting way to get through the post-lunch slot on a Friday afternoon.
The gentleman with the somewhat alien purple hue and the ‘P’ branded on his forehead (this is what happens when you sit in front of the data projector) is Andy Burnham, the elected Mayor of Greater Manchester. For a politician, he spoke a reasonable amount of sense at the meeting I attended today. 40 people in a room, about the same number attending online — all expressing freedom of choice either way. Seems fair enough to me.
A meeting — with a colleague! In person! OK, so Alex had to stay imprisoned in his magic mirror, but he was in Austrai so we’ll let him off. Stephen becomes the first colleague I have actually shared a room with for many months; and the working day was all the better for it.
And where are all the people who should be in the empty offices, as pictured yesterday? Trapped behind these magic mirrors, in some kind of netherworld. Myth becomes life, and slowly we fade away, losing more and more connections with the reality we once knew.
Doing this blog for nearly nine years has started to affect my behaviour. Today I decided that my record streak of English-only pictures had gone on quite long enough — specifically, 142 days. The nearest point from my house that lies in any other country is where the Welsh border crosses Bumpers Lane beside the Deva Stadium, Chester, which lies approximately 53 miles from my house as the crow flies. With nothing but reading and thinking to otherwise do today, I set out for it — and here is, more or less, the first scene that I saw after crossing into Wales at said point.
Looks a lot like England really, doesn’t it. I mean, social distancing an’ all. Hwyl anyway to my nearest unEnglish neighbours. And their dogs.
Despite four HB pix in a row I have in fact spent most of the week in Manchester, but — to repeat a frequently-made recent point — it’s not been very exciting. Nor was today, but at least there was plenty of tea and coffee.
Being 42 