Doves have been a religious symbol for thousands of years: Christianity just adopted a tradition that had begun in Mesopotamia (according to Wikipedia, which of course is right about everything). If you ask me, though, this one has the evil eye; zoom in a bit and you’ll see what I mean.
Another day spent almost entirely in my office at home, working, and not emerging until after the sunlight was mostly gone. The Friday market in town was still open at this point, though only just, and I’m sure this guy is considering packing up his clocks and jewellry and calling it a day.
I go monochrome here simply because it feels right for the shot and it stops the bright green stripes at the top dominating it. It is not a ‘Black Friday’ reference. I hate that bollocks, in fact: especially because, as various recent conversations about this marketing wheeze have proven, virtually no one in the UK — consumers, retailers, the media, anyone — actually understands the derivation of the term. Be honest — do you know where it comes from? (American readers don’t get to answer this.)
12 of the last 16 shots have been taken in Hebden Bridge, and there are going to be more coming up — by recent standards, an unusually static state of affairs. But when it looks like this in the morning, I don’t really care.
Not only did I not leave the house today but I barely left this room. From 9am – 4pm at least my study, and (more specifically) the laptop within it, was the nerve centre of an international network of researchers, contributions from (at least) the UK, USA, South Africa, France, the Netherlands and — most importantly and relevantly — St Helena. Here, the Chief Minister of the latter territory, Julie Thomas, makes her introductions to the day. I have spent quite a bit of time and effort on getting this 2-day event organised and I am very satisfied that it all worked out. As far as we can ascertain this is/was the first online conference specifically devoted to the little island on which I have recently spent plenty of time.
I have met Julie by the way. If all Chief or Prime Ministers or Presidents were like her the world would probably be a better place.
It’s gone from ‘cold and crisp’ to ‘chilly and damp’ so there’s still a need to get the fire going. Indeed this task is not just the responsibility, but the active duty, of those who drink in the Railway during the early shift.
These various beetroot all came out of the ground within a couple of feet of each other. I’m sure they were all from the same pack of seeds…. I like the diversity of colour, also that this shot does imply they had all been in the ground ten minutes before it was taken: which was, more or less, the case. I think some pickling is in order.
The last few days have been very cold. Even this morning there was still plenty of snow on the ground. But the temperature rocketed upwards today, to 11º or 12ºC, and it rained quite heavily, thus taking out all the snow and filling all available drainage — including the river and, seen here, the canal — almost to overflowing. Three more hours after this picture was taken and all the remaining snow was gone, as if it had never been.
You might not be able to tell this from the photos posted but, work-wise, it’s been a very busy week. Time to let off some steam on the Friday evening. Of course, because we are all middle-aged these days, these high jinks amounted to little more than Stan surreptitiously stickering the back of Mark’s hat, but that is about our level these days.
A scene passed almost every time I walk to campus, and unusually quiet today. But that’s a good thing: the light fell just right for the shot and there are no moving cars to spoil it (well, OK, there’s the one just entering the very back of the shot but we can ignore it). All that was needed was a train coming over the bridge. Maybe next time.
I did think about giving this post a different title, but, you know — it is what it is.
Rather than just being a random piece of (pink) machinery left lying about the place, though, I think this has been adopted as an advert for a local haberdashers: the entrance to which is just to the left of the photographer, at this point.
Being 42 