My extended family has not featured much on this blog, so let’s compensate for that, and thank my cousin Steve (my father’s sister’s son) for his hospitality tonight at both his home and business — the Dovecote Inn, Capel, Kent, with its fine beer and monstrous portions of tasty food (free advertising….). Cheers!
Well, the clock’s a bit blurry but you can see I have the time right, at least. In Bradford today at the start of a much-needed, half-term, half-week break from work, to see War Horse at the theatre, which as a visual feast, at least, was stupendous: but no photos allowed of that I’m afraid, so the grand City Hall will have to do. It’s at least nice that they have finished off Bradford (in a good way) after about a decade of stalled building works left the place looking as much of a bomb site as it did in 1945.
So I was just walking to work from Victoria station and turned my head to the right, checking the road for traffic, and I just saw this photo. It’s turned out as I envisaged it, I think. It’s nice when that happens.
If it wasn’t for the distinctive topography of my home town, Hebden Bridge, I doubt I would have felt inspired enough to keep this blog going for 2,370 days. I do spend quite a bit of time here — some 40% of the shots are from HB. And, well, it does look rather good in the right light. I try to do it justice.
When Elland Road has featured on here in the past (such as this pic from Feb 2012 — hey, six years ago), I have definitely been sat in the away fans’ end. I admit that down the years I have developed rather an antipathy towards Leeds United FC but nevertheless decided to make them my Championship entry in this season’s attempt of mine to see matches from as many different competitions as I can. And my verdict? Well, the fans are a fickle bunch to say the least, but they can certainly generate an atmosphere, particularly when watching their team come from 2-0 down to draw 2-2 and nearly win it with a final shot off the bar. But I’m not changing my habits, never fear. This will be the one and only shot from the home end I’ll ever publish…. (By the way, here it’s still ten minutes or so from kick-off, before you start mocking the empty seats.)
I was keen to get out for some exercise today. It seemed also that I had duties, previously unsuspected, as an object of worship for the sheep of Cumbria — on two separate occasions a flock of them followed me for some minutes. It was like a game of ‘Mr Wolf’: when I turned around and looked at them they stopped — looking (appropriately) sheepish — but then returned to follow in my footsteps when I walked on. I kept telling them I had nothing to give them. Strangely, I don’t think they understood.
In some shots it’s a matter of trying to stand as exactly in the centre of the pattern as is possible. I think I nearly made it but the window at the end betrays a slight bias to the left. But then of course if I was that worried about symmetry I would have ditched the shot when my colleague walked through the door.
Hey, I’m not morally censuring. A few seconds after taking this shot (oh look…. sunshine!), I also ignored the signage. Everybody does. Come off the footbridge leading to platforms 4-6 on Victoria station and you can ignore it, too.
So, I see it’s a year ago today that I posted my 2,000th picture. In a couple of weeks it’ll be six-and-a-half years since I started this blog. But there are still little takes on the Uni of Manchester campus I haven’t tried yet. Even if they aren’t quite straight.
Making transport communal has always seemed to me to be the most sensible solution. I haven’t owned a car for some twelve years now, at least, but I am a member of a car pool. These orange bikes get unlocked by some code you can get on your mobile phone, you use them, leave them at your destination so someone else, possibly, can use them there. So simple. Unlike the similar ones I saw in Brisbane five years ago, these ones are seen to be used now and again. And yet there are some who would react even to this basic and friendly form of socialism by frothing at the mouth.
Being 42 