The third protest in a month, if we count the poster statement. Not hard to work out the basic focus of this one. I was just passing, not expressing a particular opinion, but I do notice that in BBC reports of the atrocities presently unfolding in the Middle East, Israelis ‘are killed’ whereas Palestinians just ‘die’. As much as anything else that helps explain why some people are pissed off.
No one seems able to leave any empty Manchester space empty for long. Cathedral Gardens is particularly prone to being built on by some temporary structure or other, if it’s not the ‘Davis Cup Fan Zone’ (that was last month) it’s whatever this twelve-hi-vis operation might become. Probably the ice rink; for after all, it’s nearly Christmas.
Another weekend in London — the third in three months — ends where they always do, namely King’s Cross station. This war memorial stands facing platforms 1-3, and has always interested me firstly because my name (Whitworth) appears on it twice, with an unseen pillar to the right of this shot commemorating Whitworth, F. and Whitworth, W. A., who as with everyone else named on here was an employee of the Great Northern Railway lost in action. I also like this just because it looks good; it was unveiled just over ten years ago, when the station was rebuilt.
Many places describe themselves as the Home of Football or something similar, but Hackney Marshes in London has as good a claim as any. 88 football pitches make this probably the largest single centre for football in the whole world. About 30 of them were being used today by a diverse range of teams including UK Moldova FC, FC Karpaty, Flamengo, Limehouse Tigres. The sun was shining. You have your Mecca I’m sure, perhaps this is mine.
Another person’s art — and this time, with the artist. Sophia is depicted at the Friends of St Helena annual meeting, telling us about her inspirations, as a person born in Britain of St Helenian descent, and never having visited the island until earlier this year (in fact she was there in January and February when I was, but I don’t remember meeting her). The guy pictured is her grandfather, born on the island but left 78 years ago. Her art is really good, I don’t do it justice here, but I like the picture anyway.
There is a reason why robins have been depicted on here so often, and certainly more than any other species of small bird (ducks and pigeons will rival them in the overall rankings). This is their complete lack of fear of humanity. Basically, they have established that they can make us work on their behalf. Dig or (as I did today) strim the garden and one is almost certain to appear to check the work is done and then pick out the insects left behind. There’s a bit of zoom used on this shot, but not much.
Dewsbury is not my favourite place for various reasons but it has one saving grace — the railway station, and the excellent pub which is attached. I didn’t have time to visit that establishment today but no matter. The little girl stepped out from between the pillars at the right moment. And she’s being good, not going over the yellow line and all that.
This little cutie was clearly taking its first steps into the world of modelling. “Should I run and hide? Should I move in for the purr and rub? Or should I just pose?” Do the latter, that’s just fine.
Apparently “Mood” is the gender-neutral fragrance of the season, if the large stall in the Arndale Centre, exclusively devoted to tempting us to buy it, is anything to go by. But one might advise them to be a little more subtle when it comes to pumping out the scent. By the time I had walked past I was already sick of it.
The Conservative Party can’t even do incompetence competently — and by now, they have had lots of chances to practice it. Brilliantly, some idiot lets slip that the proposed high-speed rail link to Manchester is likely to be cancelled, in the very week that the party are holding its annual conference…. in Manchester. Frankly, I am so disillusioned about there being any prospect of genuine change in the trajectory not only of this country, but the human race, that I have largely stopped caring, but let’s at least document the existence of a political opposition to these clowns: unfortunately, sticking posters to lamp-posts seems to be the extent of it.
Being 42 