Normally I would object to photos with bins and boxes in them but, you see, this only looks like a grit bin. In fact, like that luggage trolley sticking out of the wall of King’s Cross on its way to Hogwarts, it is actually on its way to another dimension. The guy’s parallel self also makes a fleeting, fragmented appearance. All I need to do is step to the left, melt through the mirror and I can be there too…..
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.
Friday, at the end of a busy week, and the sun was out. I make no apologies for heading for the pub. Others thought the same, as depicted in my camera, and in Mark’s sunglasses.
How decadent, a glass of wine on a train on Sunday lunchtime. (And a bottle of water that may or may not originate from a spa town in North Yorkshire.) I like the refraction in the glass that is in turn reflected in my phone on the table.
Let’s push that Christmas theme a little further. There we are to top right, and I think this is the first time all three of us have appeared on the same featured shot. Here we await a lunch out, that was terrible and overpriced, so I will forebear from mentioning the name of the pub.
The world is still out there, somewhere…. so we’ve been told. Across the valley, there’s a house that doesn’t seem to have removed its Christmas lights yet. Meanwhile, at home, the movie collection keeps a semblance of entertainment ticking over.
The square reflected in the roundel, these posts standing outside the Shoulder of Mutton pub, happily reopened, after not just the c*r***v**** crap but the floods of Feb 9th as well. You see, we need economic activity here. Which is why this new ‘local lockdown’ has had no discernible effect at all.
This is a kind-of self-portrait: look closely enough into the mirror and I’m there in the background.
Another very beautiful day, ending beautifully. The ‘sun’ poking through the hillside is in fact a reflection off one of the houses on Heptonstall Road. Mist filled the air this morning and by the looks of things, so it will tomorrow morning too.
Gibson Mill, buried in the heart of the woods of Hardcastle Crags about 2.5 miles from Hebden Bridge town centre, has in its time been a mill, a roller-disco (honestly) and, now, the visitor centre for this National Trust property. This is something of a stock Hebden Bridge shot, but one that has as yet been unseen on this blog. (And seeing as I’m still trying to avoid repetition after 1,740 days, I guess that means it will now be unseen in the future. So make the most of it.)
I know we were here less than a week ago, with the dragon, but he’s moved on, and this was the best picture I got today to celebrate a strange atmospheric condition in Manchester this morning; an odd blue cast to the light, a weird dryness in the air and a burning yellow ball above, giving nostalgic reminders of times long past. It was very pleasant. I like here how the Corn Exchange is reflected in the glass.
Being 42 