This little creature definitely wanted to continue its forward trajectory, only at this point the lens of my camera was less than an inch from its nose (do insects have noses? Anyway you know what I mean). Doesn’t it look just that tiny bit annoyed about the situation? On the other hand, I am satisfied that the focus is correct.
You can see where I was when this was taken. Newcastle marks more-or-less the halfway point on the rail journey between Dundee and Hebden Bridge, at least in terms of time taken. I just like the shape she makes and the way the pink jacket in the background sets off the rest.
These days it’s 8:52 that is my more usual arrival time into Manchester Victoria, on days when I deign to show my face there. Today was early, for me. I had forgotten how much busier it is. Everyone is being sucked towards the ticket gates as if by a tractor beam.
There must surely be a kind of terror in the face of the stag and — even more so — the hen parties that descend on certain places every weekend. Liverpool seems to particularly attract them: this is taken on platform 11 of Crewe station, but Liverpool is where they’re going, inflatables and all. Perhaps the photo is flawed because none of their faces can be seen, but maybe that does everyone a favour.
Once again, I am off somewhere different, mainly because it sustains my interest in this blog, the world, life, etc. Leg one ended at Leeds railway station, where this is taken. It occurred to me while sitting waiting for my second train to depart that I had the chance to capture this incognito shot of the driver getting ready to leave on platform 9 next door. The ‘pastel’ scribblings to the left are then the latest reflected self-portrait. Possibly, then, this is a terrible photo, but I’ll move on.
More specifically, skulking right down the far end of it, where the trains never stop. It looks like he may have busted the photographer but actually, looking closer up suggests he’s oblivious to his capture for posterity. I quite like the lighting on this one.
You thought you were leaving Hebden Bridge today? Naaah. Ain’t gonna happen, not at 9.45am, not at any other point either (though there were unsubstantiated rumours that the 13:48 may have run, probably to get some people home — that was it, though). Just as well I gave myself three days to get to Heathrow, huh. Let’s try again tomorrow.
2024’s penultimate picture might be better focused, but what the hell, I think it gives it something of an enigmatic feel. And perhaps I wanted to take a picture of the scaffolding. What’s she doing? Who knows, but let’s hope that if it involved getting a train somewhere, she has patience.
Oh dear, I’m in a pub again, and at lunchtime too. However, the Tite & Locke bar is newly opened, on platform 3 of Lancaster station, a place I pass through reasonably often, and usually with Clare, who is not averse herself to the occasional beer. I think I will be coming back here: it certainly made a good first impression (unpaid advertisement).
Christ Almighty you have no idea about the shite that is the local train service. Don’t think that the one you see here is pictired trundling happily onto the platform — instead it is hanging there, just for arbitrary reasons. Not only that, but it’s the first train out of Hebden into Manchester for some hours. The giuy’s face says it all. In the end I didn’t even bother.
Being 42 