I don’t mind campus as such. But the process of getting to and from it is becoming a real trial, thanks entirely to the ineptitudes of Northern Rail over the last two years (if you haven’t had the pleasure, lucky you). So I am glad that today marked my last day there in 2019. And yes, my journey home was a screw-up.
This is New Mills, Derbyshire, a place with some impressive verticals, perched as it is above a deep gorge formed by the River Goyt. I spent the afternoon and evening here and it’s a shame I didn’t manage to arrive until 3.15pm, by which time it was already getting rather gloomy. A place to revisit with some better light.
Thanks to the stats that are faithfully kept for this blog (and which, for me and my compulsive chronicling, are a significant element of keeping this going), I know also that New Mills is the 300th different, identifiable location to be depicted on here. Obviously the count depends how I slice certain places (particularly the Lake District) but this is how it’s come out. This is one new place every 10.1 days or thereabouts, a supply which shows no signs of running out, so let’s just keep exploring. I might not be able to save the world but I would like to see more of it, before I go.
“You’re not pointing that camera at me, are you?” asks Gus. Well yeah, actually you could see that I was… No offence meant my friend.
Enough of this greyness. Let there be blues! And greens! And a flower! All happily grabbing a dose of afternoon sunshine on the comfort of our window sill. Destined to be habaneros, if all grows as it should.
Less of a bleak theme today, and look, is that even sunshine making an appearance to top right? Time to spend some time at home, refamiliarise myself with its facilities and appeal.
Grim and bleak seem to have been themes for a few days now, and with this particular mid-December being even grimmer and bleaker than is normal for the time of year, the theme is likely to continue. Is Limeside Park in Oldham a more welcoming place on a sunny day in May? Of course it is, but then again, so is everywhere.
A car crash in a remote, forgotten part of Europe that probably happened three and a half years ago seems an adequate metaphor for the way things panned out today. This is a good sixty feet below the road. Maybe the occupants got out, but I actually suspect not.
As I type this there are 23 minutes left of voting in the third General Election day to feature on this blog. On all of them I have been away from home — I was in Dundee in May 2015 and Siberia just over two years later in June 2017. I had to get out from the conference venue today, there was no way I could stay in the antiseptic air-con of the Celtic Manor all day. But the prospects offered by Newport and the River Usk were grim. A dark day. If you see anything about today as heralding a bright shining future of some kind, I admire your optimism.
2019 has had a number of interesting work trips, at least, but this is the last of the year; my second visit to the Society for Research into Higher Education (SRHE) conference, which as it always is, is being held in the highly corporate Celtic Manor Hotel in Newport, south Wales. This hefty dragon sculpture stands somewhere in the complex, looking out over the M4, in case any passing motorists were tempted to wonder what country they were in. A sensation I am starting to sympathise with, in fact.
Today was one of those grim December days where it never seems to get light at all. Ragged and shadowed though it is, this winter flowering cherry blossoms at this time each year in its little courtyard under this fire escape, and does its best to lighten the gloom.
Being 42 