The Tay road bridge makes its second appearance on the blog, the first being when it was depicted in 2015 from its partner, the much older rail bridge. This is taken from right underneath it, looking south along an indeterminate length of its piers. What the numbers mean I have no idea — water depth measures perhaps? The verticals don’t look quite straight but I don’t think that’s my fault — I think they’re built that way.
Culter Fell becomes my 50th County Top bagged. Not all that exciting a walk but a fine way to break the latest journey north into Scotland. I keep finding new corners of the country to explore and that seems a reasonable approach to take to the rest of my life.
I’ve been saving this one up for a while; this piece of anonymous art criticism has been in place for some months now. Could he be saying the same thing about my own work? Pretentious, I hope not. Boring maybe, but that’s life.
Not an exciting shot, but then it wasn’t an exciting day; when is a day spent in an office exciting? There are perhaps better things to do in life. But that’s OK, as soon, I’ll be off doing them: this was my last day working in Manchester for two weeks.
This is the second fox to appear on this blog. The first was depicted on the hills above Kentmere in the Lake District (on 4/3/2020) which one might think was an appopriate location to see one. However, I believe there are now more urban foxes in the UK than rural ones, and this one was seen less than five minutes’ walk from King’s Cross station, at roughly 10am on a Monday morning in central London.
It’s injured though. Whatever is up with its front left leg, it wasn’t putting any weight on it. Nothing I could do about it, sadly. I hope it is OK.
How decadent, a glass of wine on a train on Sunday lunchtime. (And a bottle of water that may or may not originate from a spa town in North Yorkshire.) I like the refraction in the glass that is in turn reflected in my phone on the table.
On a glorious Saturday afternoon in May I personally can’t think of anything much better to do than sit down on the edge of a small field and watch people run around playing football. Or in the case of this shot, it’s more watching the people watching the football, as I like the variety of positions they adopt. The kid sat on top of the dugout stayed there for the entire match. Taken at Lower Hopton FC, whose battle to remain in the ‘Supreme’ division of the Yorkshire Amateur League was not harmed by coming back from 2-0 down to snatch a point against visitors Wortley. This was all a lot more fun than the tedious crap served up by the millionaires at Wembley later in the day, for sure.
A contentious statement… Although if given the choice, I would much rather work early in the morning than late in the evening. Come to think of it there’s many things I’d much rather do in the morning. So OK, I’ll concur. Being on Cross Street, Manchester at 7.35am shows that I had plenty to do this particular morning.
Life becomes increasingly homogenised, and every egg you buy from the shop now seems to be brown. But Clare gets eggs from someone she works with, who has a farm in Calderdale, one of those where you risk running over truly free-range chickens if you drive past, and she doesn’t add dye to their feed to get the desired level of brownness. I love the gentle blue colour of this one, and pure white is also often seen. (And brown too, as you see with the other one.)
More plantage. But it’s the season for it. There’s a shortage of vegetable oil at the moment, apparently — as Ukraine was a major supplier, but this year is not, for obvious reasons. So the more of this bright yellow stuff that we grow, the better: at least, if we want to fry our food in an adequately healthy way.
Being 42 