Roadworks on Keighley Road continue to increase in both volume and density. Soon the entire street may disappear, collapsing in on itself to form a kind of roadwork singularity, or possibly a new form of matter, which will, while largely inert, occasionally flare up into frenzied and noisy activity at, like, 7 in the morning. Having thereby woken up any sleepers in the vicinity it will then return to its inactive state for the rest of the day.
A true natural wonder of the world, the beaches of Ascension support a large population of green sea turtles, Chelonia mydas (though they don’t look green: the descriptor refers to the colour of their fat, not their shells). In the first half of the year hundreds come ashore nightly, dig pits in the sand and deposit dozens of eggs. Some time later, tiny hatchlings emerge and scurry back to the water: a few will survive to maturity and so the cycle begins again. Humanity seems to have learned to look after them slightly better than in the past. What you see here is a female actually laying: it is only during this time that they can be approached without scaring them, as they concentrate far too hard on pushing out the eggs to be bothered about surrounding humans on the Monday night ‘Turtle Tours’ organised by the Ascension Conservation Centre. One of the more worthwhile £10s I have ever spent. Red torches only are allowed.
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.
The last night of the trip was spent on the 12th floor of the Walthamstow Travelodge, from which this was the view on opening the curtains in the morning, the first rays of light just catching some of the buildings and, in the background, the smoke or steam rising from the industrial area over there.
This afternoon, four weeks and five hours after leaving, I arrived back home. Time to rest for a little while…. well, a couple of weeks anyway.
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.
And so, the journey back, via Brighton, St Pancras, King’s Cross, Leeds and Hebden Bridge stations. Pictured — the fourth of these. It’s now time to find inspiration at home for a while, in various senses.
A metaphor of some kind? Quite possibly. We are all waiting for something. But at least the sun was shining on Hebden Bridge station this morning.
OK, it’s not much, but the first snow of the season fell on Hebden Bridge while I was out in Blackburn last night. It didn’t last, but here it is. A curiosity: one of the few pictures used to represent a day despite being taken before going to bed the night before; in fact in pure calendar terms this is the earliest ever shot in all the 4,480 days so far. Times on here are rounded to the nearest five minutes, but this does take the award from the previous holder, 27th September 2014, by one minute and twelve seconds: the exact timestamp on this shot is 00:08:03.
Collingham, in rural Nottinghamshire, becomes the 445th different named place to be featured on here: so I maintain the record of, more or less, one new place every ten days on average. This illustrates my urge to explore, if nothing else. Pictured, the start of my journey home: two and three-quarter hours later I was back in Hebden Bridge.
Should I have cropped the bits to the left? The fence annoys me a little: but on the other hand I couldn’t lose it without losing the hint of red light, which I like.
Another day that can really only be epitomised by something fairly abstract and meaningless. The back of a road sign, warning of road works (the red lighting being the traffic light in question), seems to fit. I do like the swirl of reflected street light, caught in the window of a passing bus, and the reason why I chose this shot in particular.
Being 42 