My limited experience of vehicles like the ‘Sweet Basil’ (its name is just visible on one side of the prow) is that they are nice, peaceful ways to get around the place — but they take their time. And living on one for a week might be just about doable: any longer and I’d be, like, where’s the bath? Nevertheless downsizing has an obvious appeal, at some gut level.
Either someone from the local Mytholmroyd graffiti fraternity is concerned that an interloper is muscling in on their territory — or they’re doing one of those things where, lacking attention, they have done the equivalent of liking their own blog post. Which is it? Inquiring minds want to know.
According to my diary today was the ‘first day of autumn’, but although it was rather windy, summer seems to still be with us for now. I liked this tree for its two-pronged appearance, like a couple of arms reaching out over the path, in the woods near Mytholmroyd.
This one is here more because I like the shapes and patterns than anything else. But I suppose there’s an ongoing sense of frustration at the remnants of lockdown, which hangs around like an irritating guest at a party that can’t get started with him there. We are in the ‘we’re doing it because we said three months ago that we would’ stage, as far as Authority goes — for of course, they cannot be seen to have changed their minds. Going on the front pages of the papers today even the media are not bothered any more. But Mytholmroyd station car park remains largely unused.
“Whaddya mean, in nine and a half years you’ve never had a pig on this blog thing of yours?”
“Nope, never.”
“I wanna be FIRST. (Oink.)”
Amongst its other functions, this blog serves to record the weather patterns, and neither of the last two winters (2018/19, 19/20) have seen any real snow. The last truly white period, at least where I have been, was in March 2018. Today wasn’t a frozen apocalypse, but it did mean that 2021 has already seen more snow in Hebden Bridge — or, here, Mytholmroyd, just down the road — than the last two calendar years combined. I’m not objecting. It does provide good photography material.
These kinds of things are universal, aren’t they. I probably had a similar look when seeing Joe off into town that first time.
This was taken on the Rochdale Canal in Mytholmroyd, making this the first time there have been two pictures in a row from outside of Hebden Bridge since March 10th and 11th.
Now there really is a sense of desperation about this one: I could claim I like the abstract arrangement of shapes and colours, and that strange white covering (is it snow? No, salt, I think). But really I just wanted to get a shot from outside of Hebden Bridge today, thanks to a necessary trip to Mytholmroyd just down the road. We do what we can under the current circumstances…
Not actually a third monochrome shot in a row, although it might as well be on a dull, grey November day. Nearly three years after Mytholmroyd (along with much of the rest of the Calder Valley) was sunk beneath more than two metres of water on 26th December 2015, the stable door is finally being bolted — so we have been told — thanks to massive flood defence works. These pile drivers and giant screwdrivers currently occupy half the carriageway of the main road in the village, and at the moment their main effect is to have created a year-long traffic jam along the A646.
Accompanied Joe to an evening st school sorting out his choices of GCSE options in year 10: the latest step in the process by which dreams and aspirations become squeezed into systemic categories. But he seems keen enough. Here, am I trying to represent said aspirations? Is it a moody and atmospheric shot (in the unglamorous surroundings of the bus stop in Mytholmroyd)? Or just a bad photo?
Being 42 