This is our friend George who came to visit tonight, here we are waiting for the train back home after time in York. I like this shot because of her blue hair nearly perfectly framed in the huge roof canopy of this famous old railway station.
Still occasionally to be seen on small, provincial British railways. This monster bombed through Hebden Bridge station slightly in advance of the 8:05 to Manchester, headed for unknown places.
Manchester Victoria station is much improved by the recent renovations, but actually this picture is taken in the non-reconstructed part; squatting under the [insert name of current corporate sposnor] Arena, this was a rare burst of light. Nicely illuminated these guys waiting for the 12:whatever to Wigan, though. And was I arriving in the city late, or going home early? I’m not saying, Possibly both…
I wasn’t taking a photo of this guy, but just of the scene. He then stopped walking, turned straight into the shot and lit his cigarette. Sometimes it just works out.
The run ends, as I finally get out somewhere, after 29 days spent only at home or in Manchester. One reason this happened was that the weather through November has been very poor and prevented me from getting up to the Lakes for a walk, but finally we had a decent day today and I managed to bag my last two Wainwrights — the story of which will be up later tonight on my other blog. This involved a long journey round to the other side of Cumbria, hence my presence at Carlisle station early this morning (well, it’s early if you have to get to Carlisle from Yorkshire, anyway).
I will spare Northern Rail further public shaming regarding their performance over the last two days…. oh what the hell, why should I. It’s been dreadful. I got a train this morning that was 35 minutes and two trains earlier than the one which should have got me to work on time and I still barely made it. Here, I and others wait out the ineptitude in the waiting room on platform 1 of Hebden Bridge station; the woman on the far left has busted the photographer.
Work trip down south today. Change trains at Leeds. Leeds probably ranks third on the list of ‘Drew’s most frequently-visited railway stations’ (after Hebden Bridge and Manchester Victoria, but ahead of Preston and King’s Cross). This section of it seems to have turned a shocking pink colour in the last few weeks for no immediately obvious reason.
A familiar scene, given added interest by the drizzle caught in the sun. Worth getting a little wet for. The 8:34 to York departs and my train to Manchester will be along in a few minutes.
Having stayed over on the Cumbrian coast last night there was plenty of opportunity to get the Irish Sea into the shot for the second day in a row. Seascale station is an idyllic place on a glorious morning like this, though I bet when the westerly gales are blowing, it is quite different. My spell-checker keeps wanting to change ‘Seascale’ to ‘seascape’, which I guess is appropriate in this case.
Plenty of pictures at the moment of this place, but that’s because it’s nice to see a public works project that has actually turned out pretty well.
Being 42 