The sun shows no signs of going away, so rather than wonder when the hosepipe bans and drought orders will come in, let’s just enjoy it — albeit, under cover. Too hot to sit out in direct sunlight for long, even with a beer. Mr John Bailey makes at least his third appearance on the blog.
McGlynn’s pub in Bloomsbury declares this afternoon for the French, before their game against Peru in the World Cup: note the tricolour in the window. What gets me about this shot though is how much Roy Keane looks like a little orange animated version of himself, sort of like Max Headroom….
A wholly uneventful weekend. These were not even my cocktails.
As it was on Wednesday, so it was tonight. April 2018 in the UK skipped over spring entirely and went from winter to high summer. A Friday evening, the sun was out, the usual suspects were in attendance.
Sledgehammer symbolism it may be but anyone living in most of the UK today observed that we transitioned rather suddenly from winter into full-on spring. And it’s forecast to stay. On such a day, let us use the Railway as a bridge.
A nice day also to mark the 2,000th picture on this blog taken in the UK. If Cambridge Analytica find it significant that I have spent 82.37% of my time over that period in my home country — there you go, I’ve saved them the bother of doing the maths.
My extended family has not featured much on this blog, so let’s compensate for that, and thank my cousin Steve (my father’s sister’s son) for his hospitality tonight at both his home and business — the Dovecote Inn, Capel, Kent, with its fine beer and monstrous portions of tasty food (free advertising….). Cheers!
“Come on a walk, they said. Lots of balls and squirrels to chase, they said. Hmmph. This don’t match my idea of fun. There aren’t even any crisps to eat.”
What can I say? It’s Tuesday. I spent the day sat on my arse grading student papers. It’s pub night…
Oh dear, pubs two days in a row. Well, it is Christmas. I need a break. An apposite way of recalling that this place, along with the rest of Hebden Bridge town centre, was under six feet of water two years ago today: this year’s was a rather less eventful Boxing Day, fortunately.
A dull, non-festive shot? My apologies, but yes. Nevertheless to find the Blue Pig open as we went past it towards the end of our Christmas morning exercise walk was a great Christmas bonus. This pub, run entirely by volunteers, is like Brigadoon, sometimes it’s there, more often, it’s not.
I managed to not document anything particularly ‘Christmassy’ about the day but then again seeing as it was mild enough to sit and drink a beer outside by the river, it didn’t particularly feel like it today and I get bored with all these cliches anyway. Either way… hope you enjoyed your version of the day, whatever you did with it.
Being 42 