A day of work, even though it was a Saturday. Then, an attempt to find a quiet corner somewhere for a post-work drink — not necessarily easy on a Saturday night in Soho. But this pub on Charing Cross Road just about managed it, and afforded many people-watching opportunities through the sash windows. I pick this one because it has the feeling of being a still from a movie, and Soho just has that feeling of being a movie kind of place.
Once more, London. I spend far more time here now than I ever did when I actually lived down south. This portrait came about because of noticing the bendiness of the windows on this Central line train. A kind of Daliesque thing? A little bit, anyway.
Can I go any lower with the self-portrait, in various ways? Rembrandt, eat your heart out. Once autumn really kicks in, the stone floor in our kitchen gets too cold without some form of protection.
Life remains unexciting and I doubt this is going to change in the near future. At least lunch was taken somewhere new. The rebellious spark in me wants to just swap a couple of these around. Not rearrange them totally — that would be messy. But, yin-yang style, maybe exchange one of the mayos with one of the ketchups. Doubtless someone would spoil the effect by putting it back: they wouldn’t be able to resist (not if they were anything like Clare, anyway).
A nice combination of shapes and textures on this one I think. Not that I am commenting on James’s texture. He’s just having a fag.
It may be yet another abandoned shoe (why is there only ever one, not two?) but dammit, it can still make its own way home. Of course, it isn’t really moving. But I guess the illusion is there.
Far too nice a day to stay in, something that the ladybirds had also decided — there are plenty of them around at the moment, probably getting in their last greenfly before it becomes too cold and they die or hibernate or do whatever it is they do over the winter. My pint of Guinness didn’t have any hanging around on, or in, it but maybe this one was just resting on the cool plastic for a while. Is ladybird.guinness.football a ‘What3Words’ waiting to be used?
I know it’s not long since I did a heron but they are good looking creatures with an agreeable habit of staying still for the camera. And this one isn’t the usual stamping ground in Hebden Bridge, but rather Stalybridge, the water being that of the River Tame.
An uneventful day to mark the 34th anniversary of my becoming a resident of Yorkshire. I turned up to stay for a few weeks on 10/10/1991 and seem not to have left since. Anyway, that has nothing to do with today’s shot which I include as a prompt for speculation — just what is it that this guy expects to get out of his appointment in the Hair Studio? OK, there is a glimpse of a beard, but surely not one voluminous enough to make professional attention necessary. But what do I know? (Note: white post carefully placed to assist anonymisation.)
In the 20 years and 2 months I have been working in Manchester I have driven into work precisely six times. Three of those were in the first couple of months: of the three since, two were forced on me due to train strikes (and for those, I parked north of the centre and finished the journey by tram) and the other one was a Sunday morning. There are reasons for this. I’m not usually still in the area for full-on rush hour/Carmageddon but I was there this evening.
Being 42 