Chester is a city that has maintained its pre-WW2 architecture better than most, and going black-and-white seems appropriate today. It also hides the anomaly that is the bright blue of the sign for bus stop S3. Yes, I was in the beer garden of the Town Crier at this point, but at least it was after noon. Just.
Going on the gig posters that still sit, forlornly, behind a metal screen just to the right of this shot, the Retro Bar, on the corner of Sackville and Charles Streets in Manchester, closed in summer 2025. The reason? Because there are no longer any students up at this end of the campus. Whatever is being planned for the acreage of the old UMIST buildings, it has involved gradually emptying them over the last decade or so, and accumulating what must amount to real estate value of tens, perhaps even hundreds, of millions of pounds. I’m sure my employer is well aware of this.
Meanwhile — it was loud and peaceful, so Mark attests. Note the train heading over the viaduct.
This beetle was very purposeful, and it’s a shame that there was no pot of gold (beetle equivalent) at the end of the table outside the pub, but I did help it down to the floor at that point. A test of the micro-focus on the camera, anyway, and its quite precise: the body is pretty much there, but the antennae, they are just that little bit blurred.
After a run of travelling, today marks the start of a period to be spent mostly at home, and ended where many Fridays do, namely the pub. There I noticed that the old logs used, now and again, as bar stools have a rather encrusted look about them which was a worthy subject for illustration. In fact there are a number of regulars of the Railway who affect this kind of thing, with me probably among them, these days.
A Sunday afternoon game of cribbage. I won 3-2, by the way. As C pointed out when she first saw this, sometimes a blur is exactly the point of the shot.
The Lostock Arms, just outside the railway station of Lostock near Bolton, may once have been a busy and thriving place — but it obviously wasn’t busy enough, in the long run. I have no idea how long it has been closed but the longer it does stay empty, the more work it’ll need to return to life. Probably it is caught in some kind of planning limbo: there are a couple of old pubs along the A646 through the Calder Valley that have been in this state for a quarter of a century now (like the Woodman in Charlestown). As a society we seem no better at using our building stock in efficient ways than we do most other aspects of our environment.
Brrrr! It’s cold outside. Get that fire lit!
Hello, friend. The bloody thing is that today was another wake. Too many, too fast.
I do not know exactly how many people have appeared on this blog and subsequently died, for I cannot account for all the strangers who have been in shots. As of today, though, there are certainly at least six such people among friends and family. Steve Cooper — always known in the pub as ‘Little Steve’ (not that the other Steve is particularly large) had appeared three times, most recently on 28th March 2025. He passed away on 6th January aged 63, today was his funeral and then wake at the Railway, where it had to be. Other members of the crew are pictured looking happy, which is the main reason I pick the shot — as the booklet on the table announces, it was meant to be a celebratin, not sorrowful. But Steve will be missed, as will all friends when they are no longer with us.
It’s Friday, it’s 5pm and, well, we’re in the usual place. It’d be great if the golden glow behind the beer glass was some tropical sunset, but sadly not, In fact we’ve barely seen sunshine for two weeks.
Being 42 