If my name were Peter Piper, could it be said that, on this blog, if I (Peter Piper) depicted a pack of pickled peppers, how many pickled peppers were in the pack that Peter Piper depicted?
If English is not your first language and any of that makes any sense, then I congratulate you.
I have nothing against the Chelsea Hotel in Toronto — if I had I would not have come back here to stay for another two weeks, on top of the time I spent here earlier in the year. But I would like to go home now, and instead, I ended up for various reasons obliged to spent almost the entire day locked in my room, working. This semi-abstract architectural shot — one wing’s worth of floors 14-27 I reckon –thereby epitomises the day. A photowhack too, meaning, the only shot taken today.
I assume the visual pun is deliberate. Is that Minnie Mouse, or her male counterpart? I think Minnie. Either way, the first mouse to appear on here in 12+ years…. kinda. Taken through the window of one or other of Hebden Bridge’s innumerable cafés, I forget which one this is exactly. Perhaps it would have been nice to have not had the reflections, but it is what it is.
Sadly this is an all-too-common sight around the tight streets of Hebden Bridge, with the only place to park many cars being on the road. It’s not even just the traffic-facing side which gets whacked, I’ve seen (and, years ago when I still owned a car, experienced) enough examples of pedestrians taking them out too. Though admittedly it would take a pretty hefty person to cause this amount of damage.
These geese literally live in the car park of the Co-op supermarket in Hebden Bridge, and have done for some time. Today, the synchronous exercises: though Gertrude on the right has gone for the ‘tuck’ a little early.
After yesterday’s smorgasbord of photo opportunities, today was the first photowhack for a while — that is, this was the only picture I took today. But it is representative; the plum tree is needing some serious attention at the moment. Current rates of production are over a kilogram, or 2.5 pounds, every day. If you want some plums, take them off our hands, please.
These are not my tools. Six days we’ve been working on the problem, fruitlessly. Get a professional in and it’s sorted two hours later.
Having had an interruption to the normal procession of sunrise times, since I came back from St Helena it’s clear that things are getting noticeably lighter in the mornings — or, rather, becoming lighter earlier. This is welcome. Spring is on its way…. eventually.
“That human is taking surreptitious bird shots again.”
“Hah! All that stuff about ‘not repeating himself’… Such rubbish. We’ve been on here before, I’m sure.”
“Yes, I remember that one. Glad you’re talking to me again now.”
“Hmmm, well, I’m still a bit miffed with you but I’m getting over it.”
Another day of intense inactivity. So uneventful was it, at least for me, that this is a photowhack — the one and only picture taken on the day. Plenty of work was done but in a physical sense I sat in my new study, listened to the rain on the roof, gritted my teeth at the iniquities of the British government. (If anyone thinks this farce is all going to lead to some fundamental change, think again — all we have is a number of corporate dictators still jockeying for position, until they can slip into place, without an election, someone like the bloke who runs the state in V for Vendetta.)
Yes, I have a new study — courtesy of a bit of moving and painting of what was, for at least 16 years, Joe’s room. But he doesn’t need it any more, at least, not most of the time. I kept Homer in there though, who is definitely looking at the camera.
Being 42 