Perhaps, like this wasp, we are all trapped, aware of the world beyond the glass but frustratingly unable to reach it. But perhaps, again like this particular insect, there is a way out (undepicted here) at the bottom that we just haven’t found yet, we just need to change direction.
After several days of inanimate objects it was time to put some people back on the blog and the choice today was between two groups of roughly similar size, dressed in red, celebrating something. I could have gone with the footballers of Campion FC who were witnessed winning the ‘Yorkshire Trophy’, a pre-season warm-up tournament but they put in the effort. However, let’s instead go with this one of these postal workers, clearly celebrating the end of their working week in the Rose & Crown pub opposite the main sorting office in Cleckheaton. And they put in the effort too, all the time in fact.
This is not the sort of thing you see in every pub visited. But The Griffin, in Amersham, certainly takes its food preparation seriously. The ray in the back of this drying cabinet was enormous. However, I hold back from recommending this establishment thanks to its charging me £7 for a pint, which even for the Home Counties is outrageous.
It is plastic, but it does look very realistic, particularly sat on a cushion outside the pub in the sunshine. Many passers-by were seen doing double-takes. Why was it there? Just one element in a range of junk (hence the pile behind it), passing through.
So precisely has my reflection been split by this bevelled mirror (in Frew’s Bar, Dundee) that the sprouting of hair above my ear appears on the lower part. I like this cubist homage as it was an occasion where the shot I sought was precisely achieved.
I did very little else other than enjoy some sunshine on this Saturday afternoon; and I was not the only one.
Ahh, London. Bloomsbury. Sunset lighting up the chimney stacks, me in a pub enjoying the evening light. A day of feeling like a scholar for a change and not some glorified teaching machine. Amen to that.
Friday, at the end of a busy week, and the sun was out. I make no apologies for heading for the pub. Others thought the same, as depicted in my camera, and in Mark’s sunglasses.
Is waiting a thing that dogs would do if we hadn’t trained them to do it over millennia? Predators learn to wait, I guess. But not for their human master to come back from the bar.
The Railway Inn is undeniably close to a main road. But we don’t let it spoil our enjoyment of the outdoor seating; one of Hebden Bridge’s best suntraps. Like the rest of us, Lynn was enjoying it this afternoon.
