One of those where the object of interest had turned at a junction and was trotting away from me in the distance before I realised how interesting it was. But I just about got the shot. That is the way to go, is it not. And this is the second horse-drawn hearse to appear on here, the first being in London back in January 2014.
Far too nice a morning to stay indoors today and wait like little sheep to be told that we need to stay indoors a lot more, like until Christmas. A walk along the Rochdale Canal in the morning lightened the spirits and boosted the immune system, which is, of course, why we do it.
In all these 3,334 days I have yet to depict my local area’s tallest construction, Wainhouse Tower — so here it is. When conceived in the 1870s this was originally going to be a mill chimney but disagreements between land- and mill-owners meant that it was eventually just built as a folly, and according to its Wikipedia page, it is the tallest folly in the world — which I did not know until just this last minute. So one to add to the ‘superlatives’ list on the Stats page when I next get round to updating it.
An adequate metaphor for how things stand. Sunshine for now, but about to be swamped by dark clouds once more.
To distract me from going off on one, let’s note that this is day 3,333 of my blog, so one third of the way to 10,000 days. Multiplying up I note that is, roughly, 27.4 years, and so if I’m still posting in early January 2039, when I will be a few months off my 70th birthday, I will have reached day 10,000. I’m sure an actuary could give me the odds for my still being alive (and being 42) on that day. Whether such odds mean a damn in the current situation is another matter.
Before the war…. or, I mean, before mid-March, I had installed a moratorium on any further pictures of building sites in Manchester. But as going to Manchester looks as if it will become an avenue of escape from further house arrest, I am inclined to lift the ban. This is all happening at least a hundred feet up in the air, as the crane helps with the completion of yet another huge office block in the centre of the city, one that probably looks increasingly like an elephant of the white persuasion.
I’m not a ‘mask shamer’. There are plenty of people out there who for one reason or another can’t wear one, particularly not for any length of time, and everyone else just needs to live with that fact. But all the same, this signage did make me laugh.
This idea of ‘underuse’ has been a recurring theme lately — but there are obvious reasons for that, and it is going to become even more the case now that uni have decided that, after all, they would rather not teach face-to-face, ‘at least’ until the end of October. Which is, conveniently, after everyone’s arrived and paid their rent. Don’t blame me — I oppose the decision, and rather vehemently too. But it seems this opinion is now in the minority.
Pubs now have to shut at 10pm, and so with no nightclubs or alternative venues available for anyone wanting to carry on with their evening, everyone now mills around and gets into taxis and buses at the same time, thus compressing all those infective agents together instead of spacing them out more. And if you think this idiocy will be repealed soon, recall that the licensing restrictions brought in during World War One remained in place for eighty years.
Meanwhile, your friendly local high street is becoming a ghost town; if your place looked much different from Hebden Bridge at 10.50pm this evening (or on any given evening), then I would say that’s unusual.
Halifax’s transport infrastructure seems to have become a recent theme. At least, this is a sign that I am still moving around the local area, including on a Sunday. I like the complexity of the layout here, the bendiness, but tied together by the point mechanisms.
Today was considerably less mobile and active than yesterday. No football, even: making it the first Saturday I have voluntarily not attended a match since mid-February. The reason? Rain, constant rain, endless, all day. Apologies then for the boredom factor but at least we can still go to the pub.
Being 42 