And still it rains, seemingly without end. The water race at the end of the old millpond in the woods is only rarely filled, and when it is it’s a sign we are once again in the ‘cross fingers and hope’ approach to flood defence. But the town stayed above water — today at least.
Umbra in Latin means ‘shade’, a sign that the umbrella was originally designed to protect against the sun. But this was not the application required in Hebden Bridge this afternoon. I believe this outrage against good weather can officially be termed ‘Storm Dudley’.
This was supposed to be my last full day here before travelling, but bad weather has meant my flight being postponed 24 hours. That probably means bad weather in St Helena, but my experience outdoors in Yorkshire today suggests the conditions might spread up the whole of the Atlantic, frankly — this afternoon was dreadful, with rain and high winds.
None of which stopped 23 (including the referee) madmen in shorts competing this afternoon in division 2 of the Halifax and District Football League — or me (and about five other people) choosing to watch them. Here at Warley Rangers you are only fifteen promotions, and a few ground improvements, from the Premier League, so it still matters.
This is Wainhouse Tower‘s second appearance on the blog — the world’s tallest folly, dontcha know.
Although this has been given a certain extra layer of grim by being taken through a rain-spattered window, it is nevertheless a reasonable depiction of what the weather was like this morning I don’t know what the face of the guy walking along the roof was looking like, but I’m damn sure I wasn’t going out there today. This is one reason why I am spending most of November 2021 out of the country — but more on that over the next few days.
A fifth day in a row in Hebden Bridge. One reason I have not got away from here this week has been the weather — far too poor to consider a walk anywhere, even though my diary may have allowed it. So I’ve just sat at home, feeling rather like this jackdaw looks. Then again these birds always appear somewhat pissed off.
Actually it became quite a nice day after this rain shower had done its thing. But at this point in time, those with brollies were grateful of them. Those without — like myself — well, we just had to make do.
After another hot and dry day it was a surprise when Hebden was drenched by a substantial storm in the early evening; such things can be expected in high summer, of course, but the surprise came more because there weren’t really all that many clouds around, and the sun mostly kept shining throughout. But rain it did, and hard; these two were not the only ones scuttling for cover.
After a good and enjoyable weekend — the comedown. Rain all day and the streets of Manchester still empty, this is a city with a lot of ‘recovery’ needed; and at the moment it’s not happening. From next week there’s more of a chance but there are a lot of political interests who, seemingly, would rather it didn’t — for whatever reason. “The struggles of the past have resulted in great gains”, quotes the Guardian (via its sponsored deckchair). Not this one, so far.
The village of South Milford, east of Leeds, makes an exceptionally wet debut on the blog, and thus a rather grim one, despite being a pleasant place that hosted me entertainingly enough this afternoon. But it was damp, oh yes indeed.
The baby chard happily grows, waiting inside until things warm up — which going by the weather in the last few days, might be a while yet. I, on the other hand, just wait inside, not feeling like I grew much today, in any sense.