I thought as I walked past this guy, at first, that his facial mask was somewhat excessive even for the present. Then I saw what he was doing. It’s a way of stopping people painting ‘JOHNSON OUT’ on this wall, at least.
As government policy and public fear continue to ravage our lives and economies, I speculate as to what kind of future awaits, and ahead there’s an old-man version of me that just wanders through our empty town each afternoon to spend time watching the ducks. They are peaceful, good-looking creatures, they clearly have some basic society, with obvious couples, occasional spats and arguments, and an ability to understand and make use of the dynamics of water flow for their own personal edification. This duck seems proud of her own drake and watches the other two parade past in much the same way as might a haughty woman sat outside a café. To my eyes, anyway. There is little else to look at right now.
Well, it’s not a house in the sense that anyone lives here — at least, not yet (wait a couple of years and this might be the only thing round here that many people can afford). Spotted on one of my random walks around the local area that are the only meaningful activity available to us right at the moment.
There is nothing going on at the moment. AT ALL. Pointing the camera at flowers is about all that is available. The winter flowering cherry, as a species, makes at least its second appearance on the blog. If nothing else continues to not happen, it might be back soon enough.
I’m not an economic expert, but I’ve been observing. Just audible at the moment, over the general silence of our cities, is a quiet but ominous creaking. If the arbitrary closures go on any longer than December 2nd, and the busiest month of the year is taken away from businesses like shops and pubs, expect to lose most of the independently-owned ones by March. I think Boris Johnson knows this, but the question is whether he cares enough.
The family that texts together, survives house arrest together. One of the few signs of human life in Hebden Bridge this afternoon.
Not much to do other than look at plants again, and to save having a second ‘autumn colours in the mist’ shot in a row (though the woods looked good once more), let me instead document the reason why one of our gutters was overflowing onto the front step below. A garden cane with a fork taped to the end provided a solution. I bet you’re excited now… There went weekend no. 1 of House Arrest 2.0.
Who doesn’t love the colours in autumn, a last hurrah before the greyness of winter. I like the remaining green on this shot and the sinuous branch, with its two duck-heads.
Not pictured on this shot: vast numbers of people. The woods of Hardcastle Crags were heaving today. Because, if you take away other normal weekend entertainments, people will do what they must in order to stay physically and mentally healthy, which is to get out of the house to wherever is available. Thus, congregating closer together than they would otherwise have done, and defeating the object of this latest stupid, mindless, arbitrary attempt at social control.
Now that’s a mackerel sky if ever there was one. A change in the weather is on the way…
Let us ignore the rest of the world and indulge in some Hebden heron-spotting. I have no idea how long these creatures live, but I would expect a few years at least would be normal for a bird that size, and so I think this is the same bird as pictured on 8/5/17. The particularly sharp neck markings are one clue, but to be honest, the main one is those slightly comical knock-knees. Both photos show this. This is not the rather more butch-looking, and generally bigger, one that I had christened Humph (see 25/5/16, 23/1/17 for example).
So this one needs a name of its own. And I’m going to call it “Maris Crane”. You’ve seen Frasier, right?
Being 42 