And you thought all bees lived in hives, correct? Well, apparently not. Some bees are solitary and if one wants to be nice to them, building a little place like this in the secluded corner of a garden is one way to do it; they like nesting in the tubes. None seem to be at home today in this one that my in-laws have set up, however.
On 2nd July 1999 Clare and I were married at the Ashton Memorial in Lancaster, and today we were back there with some friends and family for a 20th anniversary reunion, which was small-scale, informal and a great deal of fun. It was excellent to just hang out with the people we’re still in touch with and see how things have changed — or not — across those two decades. “20 years eh? Blimey” was the general conversational tone of the day, but that was fine.
But although I do try to make these blog pix more-or-less representative of the day… Look! it’s a meerkat watching us! And meerkats are not the usual fauna you expect to see, not in Lancaster on a Saturday morning anyway. But there it was, in the small zoo that is up on the top of the hill by the Memorial. So though I agonised briefly about this choice, sorry, but the meerkat wins. Too cute by half.
A warm and sunny day, too warm really to be out yomping another ten miles over the Lake District, but I think I survived it. The foxgloves were certainly relishing it. Pictured on the descent of Steel Fell, which is up there to the right, and above the valley of Greenburn Bottom (a name, which if unpicked, could result in all sorts of images).
The sun appears to have arrived in Hebden Bridge, bringing with it the bugs. But whatever bugs actually are, most of them in a British summer are not usually turquoise, with orange legs.
A sign that I have passed many times over the last years, and yet never depicted on here before today. Is there a reason for this — either way? Probably not. Was the message apposite today? Also probably not, but I like it anyway. I have got on many wrong trains down the years, as I’m sure we all have. Yet here we all are.
Could John Logie Baird have foreseen ‘the box set’, I wonder. Perhaps so — after all it’s not radically removed from the novel as Dickens wrote it. With his exams finished, Joe here adopts a position he’ll doubtless choose to remain in all summer, although we’re working on it. Meanwhile, Clare knits to relieve the excitement.
It’s nice to be reminded that the canal that runs through the very centre of Manchester still operates properly, a couple of hundred years after it was first built; and as ever, shots like these also remind me that this is the same canal, the Rochdale Canal, as runs through Hebden Bridge. So this boat could have been chugging through my home town a week or so ago. I imagine a few things about this scene have changed since the 1820s, however.
To culminate a good weekend, a night out, to the cinema to see Late Night (which is pretty good by the way). A late night in blog terms anyway — the latest photo in a day since 1st March. But still not quite a dark sky, thanks to the summer solstice an’ all. Clare makes her way home on a photo that is perhaps a little blurry and confused, but so was I at this point.
24 hours in Holyhead, Anglesey, planned around the enjoyment of two of my principal leisure pursuits. The footie was yesterday, the walk today. As you can see, the weather was… pretty decent. I seem not to be able to resist the temptation to collect places, and for a while have been preparing to set out to bag the highest points in all the counties of Great Britain, and with Holyhead Mountain, this, almost accidentally, kicks it off… so out spurts another blog, which you may or may not like to check out. While you’re here though, is it me or does that trig point look like the robot from The Day the Earth Stood Still?
People have been very much in the background of the blog in the last three weeks, if they appear at all. There have been glimpses of a foot here and there, the back of a head.
Football has also been absent from the blog over the last three weeks, but hey, all close seasons must end, mine as soon as possible. The women seen here are the from Isle of Man team and are celebrating their win in the 2019 Island Games tournament final, 2-1 over Ynys Môn, also known as Anglesey.
The connection between these two absences may be coincidental, but I like it.
Being 42 