Tuesday 24th September 2019, 10.20am (day 2,952)
Guys, it says full. And it’s only 10:20. The occupants aren’t coming out of their 10am lecture for some time yet. You can tell teaching has restarted.
Buskers have been around longer than most professions. We used to call them minstrels, but the whole singing for one’s supper thing is much the same as it was in the time of King Arthur. Fishmongers have been around for a while too.
This is a rare photowhack — the only photo taken today.
The world moves round in its orbit, the North Pole points more and more towards the sun, and we see light in bits of Hebden Bridge that have not seen light since November. It’s always a positive step when the sun comes back to the front of the house in the mornings, which should happen this week.
Today was such an uneventful day that this is a rare photowhack — the one and only photo taken on a given day. There have been about 15 of these days over the lifespan of the blog.
Another early morning in Manchester, where there’s still just about sunlight at 7.15am, but not for much longer in the year. Light, and time, enough to ponder why this establishment can’t seem to decide whether there’s one L or two (or indeed, three) in its name. It wasn’t open at this time, in case you were wondering.
I’m tired of the endless destruction and re-capitalisation being wreaked on Manchester city centre. The yellow hoardings on the right surround what is to become a boutique hotel, called “Brooklyn” — or actually “BKLYN”, clearly this was exactly the configuration of letters which wasn’t already a hashtag — scheduled to open some time in 2019 it seems.
However, an objective assessment of the local building stock leads me to conclude that Manchester is already well-supplied with hotels, boutique or otherwise. What it seems to lack are beds for a growing population of rough sleepers, that anyone who walks through the city centre on a regular morning basis will agree has increased substantially in the last year or so.
Welcome to your neo-liberal marketised future.
A day of such uneventfulness that this was a photowhack — the one and only photo taken on a given day. The pigeon ambassador has come to plead with the Canada geese for aid in their ongoing war against the ducks. A jackdaw spy right front is trying to look inconspicuous, but I think the pigeon knows.
Bonsalls is a Hebden Bridge institution, the sort of hardware store that you thought you only now saw in movies. If it helps prop up the house or garden, you can get it in here. Probably it has been here since Victorian times. But it does take credit cards.
This is also a photowhack — that is, the one and only photo taken on a given day. It was far too wet and rainy to take many other worthwhile pictures. ‘Storm Brian’ they are calling it, like they decided to give it the most prosaic name beginning with B that they could think of. Storm Barabbas? Storm Balthazar? Storm Boogie Nights Woah-Woah-Woah….? There must have been hundreds of more interesting names.
Purple globe artichokes on the shelf of the grocery? Or possibly Audrey II from Little Shop of Horrors? Seeing as these materialised in exactly the same spot as the aliens from the planet Kohl Rabi, I suspect the latter, and that in Valley Organics lies, in fact, a gateway to an alien micro-dimension.
If the security bolt on our front door is still drawn, it means neither Clare, Joe nor I have left the house since we got up. If it’s still drawn at 4pm, you can guess what kind of day it has been. But I did work. Seventh picture in a row from Hebden Bridge, four of which have been taken in or from my house, although these limited horizons expand a little over the weekend.