Some pubs are football pubs but some devote their Saturday afternoons to the horse racing. We found ourselves in Keighley this afternoon and, after finishing our duties, as we do, gravitated to the nearest pub — with the bonus that this was about the first chance in my life that I had to sample the products of the Timothy Taylor brewery in the town of its origin. The Boltmakers’ Arms became the pub of choice — and very fine it was too.
Fifth day in a row in which I have gone no further from my house than a quarter-mile away. Third day in five in which the picture of the day has been a pub. Such has been my life since Wednesday morning. It’ll change tomorrow. At least the sun came out today, and we had something other than all the recent gray crap.
There has been no weather for days now. No rain, no sun, no real clouds even, just this grey pall stuck over the world. Worst possible photography light. So here we are, with the help of some artificial illumination here’s today’s shot of a pub — you’ll be thinking I spend all my time in these places. *cough*
Tough assignment today. Working at home on a flat, grey day. So little to inspire that I was reduced to this attempt at an original self-portrait, which is OK I guess.
Spectacularly gorgeous day today in Stavanger, as nice a day of weather as I’ve experienced anywhere. I was not the only one thinking that the best way to end the working day was to sit outside in the sun and enjoy a beer. Taken outside the ‘Dickens’ pub (so called because Charles Dickens was not Norwegian and probably never came to Stavanger in his life).
After a day working in Manchester, which did not succeed in inspiring me, I came home via the usual haunt and, frankly, just started pissing about with the camera. But I quite like this one. Maybe it’d be better without the pole growing from the guy’s head, but then again it also gives it that little extra surreal touch.
Sometimes one just has to admit that all the photos one took in a given day are fundamentally crap. This was one of those days. So here’s a crap photo… but of a good night out, first here, then the Picture House across the road (The One-Hundred Year Old Man Who Jumped Out Of A Window And Disappeared — long title, great movie).
A bit out-of-focus but everywhere I went today it was throwing it down with rain so no really decent pics today. This is posted firstly because it’s a nice pic of someone just doing his job well, but secondly (and mainly) because this guy looks exactly like Walter White Jr (aka Flynn) from Breaking Bad.
OK, so that’s two pictures in a row taken in a pub of people drinking beer. But the light was right. The Gas Club — on Gas Works Road — man, that’s unreconstructed North. Final score — Huddersfield 1, Brighton 1. The play-off dream is still on.
Mike is one of the old Leeds university posse — as indeed is Clare, whom I met while we were both studying there in 1996. He and others (not pictured: Sarah, Iain, Angela…) met up for a pint or three in Hebden Bridge this evening, the sort of thing that you always say you should do more often, but somehow don’t.
This man’s cooked on TV you know — I am envious!
Being 42 