Here’s 1960s town planning for you. Build a concrete monstrosity of a street in the centre of your city, with a car park on top of it, and name it after a female character from that city’s history who was alluring enough to appeal to its most dashing hero. Maid Marian’s appeal is at least hinted at by whomever decorated the wall, but that’s scant consolation.
An afternoon out, and another County Top bagged; it was a decidedly urban one, that of the city of Nottingham. I thought this shot had a notable 1970s feel to it, so toned down the saturation to fit the mood. The blue plastic bag adds to the desolation. I no longer just walk in the glamorous places…
You wait ages for a small insect and then two turn up in consecutive days. This fly hung around for a while; clearly it has an interest in Ted Nelson’s Literary Machines this afternoon. As did I.
This moth was tiny, barely the size of my thumbnail. Do you know the basic difference between butterflies and moths? I didn’t, until looking it up today — but apparently, all butterflies have little balls at the end of their antennae. As this creature doesn’t have those, it’s a moth. Now you know.
Witnessed in the Miners’ Arms, Garforth, near Leeds, this lunchtime. They did eventually arrive in person to consume their lunches; which if they were as good as ours were, were worth the wait (mild, unsolicited advertising).
And so ends July 2021, a month of refreshing normality, and the last complete calendar month before this blog reaches the end of its tenth year, on 25th August.
Discos/nightclubs — possibly the worst venue for photography, at least with my mediocre equipment. But, I don’t care! Because we were out in a nightclub! How 2010s is that?
Recently, Britons have been staying at home because a computer program — which they are not obliged to install — has been telling them to. As a consequence, holes appear in the supply chain, not of everything — you can see there’s still plenty of booze on the shelves — but of certain things. This is the crisp and snack aisle at the Co-op. All that remains are two tubes of Pringles and an anomalous, lonely tup of Chupa Chips. A First World problem for sure, but nevertheless, a bizarre demonstration of the Butterfly Effect if you ask me. Someone designs an app in a certain way; a few months later, there are no crisps, tinned tomatoes or frozen vegetables available for purchase.
Latest shot, and first shot after 10pm, since early October last year. Nights out are still not entirely a thing of the past. The Nightjar bar sits under the Hebden Bridge Picture House, and if you don’t see why I’ve appended the ‘Hawks’ to its name in the title of this post, well, maybe this painting is familiar to you.
“There’s not enough room up here. You’ll have to stay down there.”
“Ah, come on you jobsworth. Look, Bob’s up there and he’s not even grey.”
A third day in four spent walking, bringing to an end a very fine long weekend in the Lake District, on which all was pleasingly normal. This pointy slab of rock marks the highest point of Eagle Crag, a fine (and finely-named) eyrie from which to keep an eye on the Stonethwaite valley below. See more photos on my other blog, if you like. Back to work tomorrow — but I will return here, I will always be returning here.
Being 42 