God, more of this crud. 2023 has not so far had vintage weather. But in a week’s time, I will be in the Southern Hemisphere, and whatever else goes on there, I’m damn sure the weather will be a lot warmer, and a lot lighter.
Radiohead had a track on the Hail to the Thief album that basically screamed, ‘The raindrops!’ for a few minutes. I know the feeling. Train strikes don’t help either: there was no reason nor encouragement to leave the house today.
Taken at the same time as yesterday’s shot — and only five minutes after Monday’s. This is as near as I have ever got in 11 years to three consecutive shots at the same time of day. I swear I don’t do these things deliberately, even in the most boring periods.
It’s that time of year when everyone looked outside at a particular point and said to each other — is it really only a quarter to five? We won’t be seeing daylight at that time again until about February. The rain was added atmosphere, but it is still needed. I like the ‘eye’ effect suggested by the lamp.
As with most of the rest of Europe, we haven’t had a great deal of rain in 2022, but it certainly came down today. Time to check the drainage…
Monday saw probably the highest temperatures in recorded British history, at least in some places. Today, it was chucking it down, and cool enough to need a jacket when out in the afternoon. The weather in Britain explains a great deal about the country’s psyche. “What comes, will come. Live with it.”
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.
Being 42 