This was never going to be the busiest or most retail-friendly Friday market day of the year, but even so, it was particularly absent of life today. Anyone who wants to pick up a yellow and blue plastic crane, though — here it is. Or was.
Clear skies are not always a feature of the time of year, so let’s take the chance to photograph this impending conjunction tonight, although surely the Moon is going to move even closer (apparently, anyway) to Venus before the weekend. A fleeting contrail decides to butt its oar in, too.
As a location, the Lake District has featured 171 times on this blog, so about once every 28.5 days, or roughly every four weeks. But in 2024 the place appeared only three times, the lowest yearly total by some distance. Finishing the commitment to hoik myself twice around the Wainwrights has made an obvious difference. This shot is taken from no nearer than Morecambe, with a very long zoom. Will I be back more in ’25? In all honesty — probably not.
There was a New Year’s Eve party tonight but none of the pictures taken there really worked, and so let’s end 2024 on what might be an overly morbid note. But I do like the row of old stone-cut graves that sit above Morecambe Bay near St Patrick’s church, Heysham. And the designer of the cover of The Best of Black Sabbath must have liked them too. That photo is better than mine (I’m not even close to getting the horizon straight, and don’t care), but my excuse is that I was stood above them in the most revolting wind and rain; 2024, at least in the UK, really didn’t bow out with great weather.
2024’s penultimate picture might be better focused, but what the hell, I think it gives it something of an enigmatic feel. And perhaps I wanted to take a picture of the scaffolding. What’s she doing? Who knows, but let’s hope that if it involved getting a train somewhere, she has patience.
After the interest and congeniality of Padiham the day before, Salford City v Morecambe, my last football match of 2024 was one of the worst of the lot, a truly dire game in a characterless metal box. The general demeanour of this gentleman, captured at half-time, sums it up. Time to move on — though for Morecambe this movement increasingly looks like it will be downward again, and back out of the League at some point in the spring. Perhaps I’m wrong, but you didn’t see them play today.
Both the weekend’s photos are from the football; two contrasting experiences. Here, the positive one at Padiham FC, an enjoyable game in a congenial stadium, one with character and distinctiveness. This mural has been painted since we last visited here two years ago, and, I think, its effectiveness can be judged by the fact that you do have to look twice to realise Joe, in his dark coat and grey woolly hat, is not actually part of it.
I cannot think of any comment other than: How cute. And all with a burst of golden sunlight in the background, and there really hasn’t been a great deal of that in December (though in this country, there never is).
Until about 2.30pm on Christmas Day I had not anticipated spending December 26th in Sheffield, but at that point an acquaintance told me of a spare ticket for a coach trip to go there and see the football (Sheffield United 0-2 Burnley, in case you were interested), and so it came to pass. In fact there were quite a few games in the area postponed or abandoned because of fog, which was certainly the main weather feature of the day. This is one of those shots that looks as if I’ve post-processed it and turned it monochrome, but that’s not the case: this is really what Sheffield city centre looked like at about 1.30pm.
Really, not an exciting Christmas Day, but are they ever, these days? A pleasant one though, and mild, so Clare and Joe were dragged out on the usual pre-consumption walk, where was captured this piece of hogweed in front of the pine (Christmas) trees, simply because I like the shape it makes. A natural candelabrum, maybe.
Anyway — a happy Christmas to you all, I hope you enjoyed the day, however it was spent.
Being 42 