A blurred, inadequate shot. But one day will come the day when there is nothing to photograph, and lately I feel I’ve been getting close to that. December gloom, a day spent marking. Out there are people in their little bubbles, and sometimes, a car drives by. Welcome to party season.
Grim weather led to the cancellation of a planned day out and with Bojo the Clown having decreed all other options ‘unsafe’ (while he flaps around in his comedy trousers), we dug out the box set of The Singing Detective and sat and watched its seven hour span through the afternoon and evening. Classic TV, and as it was always a period piece, it hasn’t dated. Joe got through the lot though he seems less than attentive on this shot. It gave the day its main interest, but how I miss other people.
I still proceed with my favoured Saturdays as best I can. Sowerby Bridge FC offer me the chance to still witness an entertaining afternoon’s sport, and despite this being the first ground I’ve seen with power lines extending over the pitch, as seen here. The December gloom was deep and grey, but while this sort of thing can still happen then there remains some light in the world.
Tough brief today, to document a day spent marking, and in meetings, and no light, just a grey December flatness. And we remain in not-quite-life, of course. Everything that Authority feels it cannot control, it has shut down. Bojo the Clown still can’t do something that he’s been campaigning for for half a decade now. On such a day, a shot of, basically, nothing seems appropriate to the mood. Best I managed, anyway.
Surely swans know how good looking they are? This is the Charlize Theron of the bird world. Look at the twinkle in its eye as it poses for the camera.
The reason I came to Bath was to bag another of my County Top walks (see my other blog), the morbidly-named Hanging Hill. That was duly collected a few miles after taking this shot, from the ascent of Penn Hill, a slope of mud with a decent view of the city. During this climb I passed this dog walker, and his companion who seemed for some time to have decided that he was ditching his owner in favour of this new and more interesting person. You can’t just tell them you prefer cats, can you?
I subsist, at least in part, on a drip-feed of different places. Despite its privations 2020 has still seen its fair share of new locations, and already more than 2016, which only had 20 new ones all year. Tonight I find myself in Bath — new location number 27 of 2020 (and 327 in total). This is a city that’s been around in some form or another for nearly 2,000 years, since the Romans founded Britain’s first spa, under the building seen here. So quite probably, people have been selling tidbits in this spot for a couple of millennia, too.
The allocation of Mondays as designated stay-at-home days seems to have become a set pattern. Tools of my particular trade: the Mac, the backup disk, and we are at the time of year where the 2021 diary needs to come to the fore. It ain’t high adventure I know, but at the moment it’s what there is.
I don’t normally covet material goods. People, places, experiences, sure… but not normally things. Today I made an exception. Although it’s just as well the price of this marvellous item is concealed on this shot.
The River Duddon starts at Wrynose Pass and carves out a very fine course for itself, both with its valley and its spectacular estuary (which has featured in its own right on this blog, more than once). It’s just the kind of place that we need ever more in the modern world. The five cyclists you see here know this, I know this. This is the true measure of ‘public health’.
Being 42 