Bacup Borough FC’s ground, the Brian Boys West View Stadium, is located at about 280m/920 feet above sea level. Which, OK, is not very high by the standards of some countries but for Britain it’s elevated: in fact this is one of the highest football grounds in the country. So even at the end of July it wasn’t exactly tropical. The goalie ponders play while the moorland ponders dumping some more rain on all participants and spectators.
This sculpture speaks to me…. This is what we’re trying to do with landscape photography, isn’t it?
There must be bus stops something like this one in Hell. It’s the blanket that gets me, too. What was I doing here at 5.45 on a Monday? Well, there could be many reasons.
Some rivers and lakes around here are somewhat lower than is usual, that is true, but this picture does not represent some heroic water shortage in the north-west of England. Rather, the Warland reservoir is being renovated, so has been drained, its bed exposed and returning to its natural state. There are some bleak panoramas up on the moors round here and the lack of water here doesn’t do this particular one any further favours.
Sometimes there are days — and associated weather forecasts — on which one has to admit (for the sake of general sanity and effectiveness in life) that one’s personal priorities are more important than one’s paid employment. I rearranged a few things as a result. And yes, I like being out in countryside like this, as did the gentleman pictured here, who I slowly caught up over the course of a mile or two and was able to use to give a good sense of scale. This is a desolate spot, but worth reaching. You can see more photos from the day on my other blog.
Run a line of pylons through the Lake District and there would rightly be outrage, but though there will be purists who will not even concede this point, the moors to the south of Hebden Bridge are so bleak that at least these metal monsters make the landscape more interesting. I have no idea where these lines of towers come from, or where they march off to; they just stomp across the land for miles along the road from Cragg Vale to the M62 on Saddleworth Moor.
Today marks the start of the second six-month period of this blog – and thus we are at the halfway point. Yes folks, I am forty-two-and-a-half years old as of today. Because I am something of a statto, I feel obliged to share with you the information that:
Anyway, so. I have as much to do as I have done so far. We’re halfway through. I’m still enjoying it: I’ll keep doing it if you’ll keep reading it.
Being 42 