Over my three days in Cambridge I seem to have avoided capturing anything about the sociability of the conference I’ve been attending. So be it. The Sidgwick site is the utilitarian side of the University, none of this medieval architecture stuff: faculty rather than college buildings. But it was a decent place to spend half a week. Clare thinks this sculpture looks like ‘Minecraft Man’, by the way.
Another one of those shots that is basically an attempt to achieve some kind of perfect symmetry. Of course we are all imperfect beings so once again I cannot quite achieve it. I did wonder about asking the bloke at the back to move one seat to his left but perhaps he is the essential element that sets off everything else. Taken about fifteen minutes before our group presented at the conference — a few more people than him did turn up, honestly.
Photographically I still mildly regret not looking out of the window at about 3am on the morning of 2nd August last year and seeing this building aflame. This picture is taken from my house so we’d have got a good view: as it was, I did smell the burning and hear a distant alarm but once my subconscious had determined that none of this was coming from our living room, or similar, I went back to sleep and missed the opportunity. Never mind. The rebuilding is under way, as you can see. I like the green on this shot, which is what caught my eye in the first place.
It’s approaching chucking out time on Monday night in the White Swan but Hugo doesn’t want to go anywhere. He’s quite comfy, thank you.
Everyone grows up, even Hell’s Angels. Every Sunday there will be some motorcycle club or other relaxing in the square. This lot had better gear than most.
The summit known as Red Screes, with its substantial tarn, sits at 2,541 feet above sea level but is still considerably lower than the Scafells: left to right from the edge of the picture, Scafell, Scafell Pike and Great End. Great Gable pops up to the right. A fine day to be out walking even if the transport arrangements once again…. but what the hell, I expect too much perhaps. Read more on the other blog, if you like.
Our neice Poppy had her 18th birthday party today, in the building ahead; we got there late, thanks to ths usual rubbish on the train line. Clare brings a dash of red to the scene, meanwhile her Dad, i.e. my father-in-law Dave, makes only his second-ever appearance on the blog in 4,250 days.
There are some signs of spring, at least. Whether these trees are actually one of the various species known as ‘lilac’ (genus Syringa) I know not for sure, but they certainly can lay claim to the colour. Behind them, the Town Hall gets on with its decade-long restoration.
As a result of my travels down the years I have developed a theory that the general national psyche of particular places is in no insigificant way formed by its weather. A frequent British opinion is, ‘why expect good times to last? Something crap will inevitably come along soon’, and this is applicable both to our feelings about life in general but also the weather. You saw the picture — last Friday was a glorious day. Not any more, not a bit of it. This sun hat cowers under the rain-covered glass, very glad that it is not being worn.
I wonder how many organisms inhabit this house along with the two of us. None on an open basis — that is, no pets — but the cave spiders have long been part of the family, and then there are the more occasional sightings of tenants. This louse made a point of crawling down the study wall from somewhere behind the shelves at the top, and disappearing behind the radiator at the bottom. This may have been a one-off journey but for all I know it’s a regular commute.
Being 42 