I continue to be in a long run of time spent at home and around familiar places. This mural, next to one of the entrances of Manchester Victoria station, has been here a very long time, since the services round here were run by the Lancashire and Yorkshire railway, rather than Northern Rail. The red lines on this map were theirs. Some have now gone but quite a number remain actively operational.
Gosh, I made it into Manchester. But because this was a potentially traumatic experience, the wife came with me, and we didn’t stay for all that long.
This place is a godsend early in the morning, and rarely empty. I’m not normally round this corner, but for once I had my cup of tea sat down at the tables inside instead of on the train. Earliest shot for a while, since late November in fact (and only the fourth shot before 7.30 in the last 12 months). It’s still dark outside at this time.
With 40 minutes to kill in King’s Cross station on our way back from Brighton, I entertained myself by watching these activities. When the new King’s Cross was opened a couple of years ago this little memorial had been installed seemingly by the builders, and was left largely unmolested; when the Harry Potter shop opened and colonised it shortly afterwards, and started charging visitors to get their mitts on the trolley, the queues, absent before, started appearing. QED.
My train was slightly late, but this one left just at the right time. I don’t know if this picture is quite what I expected to be when I took it, but it was always going to be today’s photo.
After the party, the journey home. I do this trip quite a lot. Since they finally removed the scaffolding from around Blackfriars station earlier this year, it really does have a bloody good view, up there with Circular Quay station in Sydney — but with slightly cleaner windows.
The refurbishment continues of the building recently named as one of the 10 worst railway stations in Britain. A mundane shot to mark a day with a good number. As well as being day 777 of the blog it is also 22 years to the day since I moved to Yorkshire.
And there it is coming in, right on time — behind the head of the woman stood second left. A glorious day today, a perfect late summer’s day, I nearly posted something about this year’s Conservative Party Conference in Manchester, but I decided I wasn’t that angry.
Blackburn is where I have to change trains when going to see my parents and/or sister. But it’s a surprisingly photogenic place. On a sunny day the light hits it perfectly. Today’s picture is like a proof of that concept — if the light can make an empty plastic bag look this attractive, then we’re talking something special.
My, this seems a long time ago now… and even after five days, having travelled to another continent in the mean time, the interminable delay we suffered at Blackburn on the way home still drags out like an ocean of time.
Being 42 