My Mum was 80 last month — my Dad is 80 next month. We split the difference and held a joint 80th birthday party today (hence the banner across the door), at my sister’s place. Mum and Dad do seem to still like each other after over 58 years of marriage, which, of course, is how it should be. Happy birthdays to them.
My PhD student of the last five years, Sara, passed her viva voce examination today — with only minor corrections, a very good result (for a good thesis, I honestly did think) — and so took me out to dinner at a Turkish restaurant in Manchester. The place’s waiters definitely had an overblown sense of theatrics. Salman, Sara’s son, looks somewhat apprehensively at one of them striding towards us with the kind of flamethrower that, if carried outside, would probably see him arrested for branding an offensive weapon. All this just to put a second or two of extra charring on the spicy meatballs. Food was good, though.
Continuing the theme I raised a couple of days ago regarding the power of hi-vis…. these guys were on the roof outside my office window, Doing Stuff: cleaning the solar panels apparently. Which, OK, I guess need cleaning now and again. I like the mild optical illusion on this one, for all reflections are an optical illusion; the guy on the right is not quite where he seems to be.
There are plenty of reasons today to withdraw from active engagement with the world, and offer up a shit photo that highlights a slightly pleasing aspect of the day (29 million is a pretty good score on this machine). And, so, I do.
Down the years I have come to the conclusion that if one wants to simply do as one pleases in public space in the UK, there are two foolproof methods for achieving this. First, try pulling on a high-visibility coat of some kind. No one will then question your behaviour. The other is to say, “We’re filming”. You are then permitted to fill any thoroughfare with junk, block rights of way with impunity, and do so on a regular basis for months on end. Whatever forthcoming TV epic has been in production in Hebden Bridge since the summer (and we know what it is: something about a female 70s punk rock band), it had better turn out good.
Another one of my Palaeography classes in the John Rylands Library. We have moved from Hogwarts (the old reading room) upstairs and into the new seminar room, with tape still on the windows. Checking out the manuscripts themselves is always the best bit, and they need to be ready, and cared for — would that students got to sit on such comfortable-looking cushions.
A typical Sunday afternoon scene in the Railway, Hebden Bridge. The crow is a bit of added Halloween ambience, but otherwise, we could be on any weekend in the year…. and this guy is here, every weekend.
This afternoon I saw L S Lowry’s famous painting, Going to the Match, which is currently on display in Bury Art Gallery. Then I went to Bury FC’s ground, Gigg Lane, where 2,790 people decided they wanted to Go to the Match. For a ninth-division game, this is pretty good, and I think Lowry might have approved.
Another day where not a great deal happened, so let’s bring out one of the recent Hebden Bridge staple shots — Blokes Working On A Roof. This time, with added Autumn Foliage for garnish.
You’ve gotta like this movie. Not all the jokes work any more, by any means, but Young Frankenstein must be the finest parody-homage of any genre, ever. And at a completely decadent time of day, too, thanks to the Hebden Bridge Picture House’s Thursday morning “Elevenses” deal.
Being 42 