No Christmas break in sight for the herons, who still have to fish, and thereby eat. This one, rightfully, looks with some disdain at the litter that has been chucked in the Hebden Water next to its usual spot at the weir. Bloody humans, leaving their crap all over the place. And it’ll be there for weeks, I bet.
The birds are there, you just need to realise that they’re not grit on the lens. A beautiful afternoon to mark my last day of work until 2025; a shame it is not forecast to last.
After three pictures of inanimate objects mimicking live things, here we have a usually live thing — campus — as a more inanimate object. Teaching finished last week, and today there really weren’t many people around. And that’s it for me, too, not just in 2024: there will be no more campus shots on here until early February, if things go according to plan.
Some pictures get on here because they are exactly the shot I wanted to capture when pressing the shutter. This is not one of those pictures. Until I uploaded it later and had a look I was assuming it hadn’t worked out; I was just trying to take a shot of these two mannequins in a shop window with mirrors instead of faces. Why anyone would design a mannequin in such a way I don’t know, as I thought it looked kinda creepy; hence my taking the photo.
But then the trees over the road crowd in, reflected in the glass of the shop window, plus, is that a self-potrait of the photographer captured in the lower part of the parallel dimension that seems to have opened up where that face should have been? Ghostly….. Or, possibly, just a bad photo, but here it is anyway.
More inaccurate replication of some animal or other — koalas are just not this big, or this colour, though nevertheless, that is what it is supposed to be. 4th prize in the Christmas raffle of the Hebden Bridge Picture House (£1/ticket, if you’re interested). This was very early in the evening: the place filled up by the start of the movie, which was Conclave: very good (another unsolicited advertisement).
These are the steps leading down past our allotment, which is on the right, behind the hedge. This porcelain figurine took up residence there a few months ago, thanks to persons unknown, and now seems quite at home. I’m saying it’s Beatrix Potter’s Mrs. Tiggywinkle, but C says: “that’s not a hedgehog, it’s a cat. Or a bear.” Well, whatever: none of these species wear clothes and carry around watering cans, but that’s anthropormorphism for you I suppose.
Oh dear, I’m in a pub again, and at lunchtime too. However, the Tite & Locke bar is newly opened, on platform 3 of Lancaster station, a place I pass through reasonably often, and usually with Clare, who is not averse herself to the occasional beer. I think I will be coming back here: it certainly made a good first impression (unpaid advertisement).
The chemical plant which spreads for many acres around Low Moor railway station is one of my favourite places, at least for photography. Particularly at night, it looks magnificent: like the setting for Brazil or Blade Runner or some other sci-fi dystopia. (It looks interesting from a distance too, as suggested the last time it appeared on here, on September 1st.) And there are never any people seen there. In a few decades’ time perhaps the whole planet will be run from such places. Perhaps it already is.
In the last of my taught classes last year, it took about three-quarters of an hour (or felt like it did) for all the students to get their shots with teacher that then go onto social media, somewhere. (And, see also 2022’s version of same.). As I am, essentially, a grumpy man, I insisted that this year I would do it on everyone’s behalf. Apologies to those whom I have eclipsed.
There have been very few shots of my 4,858 so far which have been taken using the self-timer, but there have been some: any of the astronomical efforts (e.g. this shot of Jupiter and its moons, of which I’m still quite proud) will have used it. But I’m sure this is the first where I’ve used the timer to take a photo of myself, with or without others, and used it as the daily picture. So there you are, this is what I look like when I’m not taking a photo.
Christ Almighty you have no idea about the shite that is the local train service. Don’t think that the one you see here is pictired trundling happily onto the platform — instead it is hanging there, just for arbitrary reasons. Not only that, but it’s the first train out of Hebden into Manchester for some hours. The giuy’s face says it all. In the end I didn’t even bother.
Being 42 