On 23rd March 2026, nothing happened. At least not to me anyway. Down there in town a blue truck parks itself in that gap we perceive in the buildings and offers something to look at. And so I get through another day.
The chilly snap continues: cold enough to make leaving the house an unappealing prospect, anyway, at least until later. My daily patterns are definitely shifting away from mornings: this is the earliest shot since 2nd August in fact, and that was taken in special circumstances (like, we were already on a moving ship). If I’m no longer a ‘morning person’ though, what have I become? ‘Couple of hours in the middle of the day person, as long as the sun’s out’ probably sums it up at this stage of life.
The moon looks much the same from Bradford as it does from everywhere else, I imagine (until you get down below the Equator, when it does this weird turning upside-down thing), But here we have a nice conjunction, I think. Will it come out unscathed after its journey along the serrated edge? Probably.
I’m sure birds have just as much of a developed weather sense as do humans. Why wouldn’t they? High winds, for a start, could really screw up that trip they were planning to make to, say, the local household waste centre. These guys may or may not be trying to sort some stuff out before the latest heavy shower comes rolling in, just as we might speed up our journey home from the shops in the face of a cloud like this.
A hundred years ago the town of Burnley had 103,000 people in it; these days it has about 78,000, so around a quarter fewer. They still seem pretty closely packed in, though.
We’re still not seeing a great deal of sunshine, and so this one was chosen mainly to demonstrate how the evenings are getting lighter, even down here in the valley. A place I am about to leave for a week: when I get back we should have sun at the front of the house again. Should it deign to shine.
The sun is still shining. A few attics need airing, skylights need opening. Ours too — this photo was taken by sticking my head out of the roof.
Don’t expect much in the way of variety of scene over the next few days. I spent all the month’s money in Cornwall, and payday is keenly awaited. Even the pigeon turns away somewhat disdainfully from the camera as I try to inject some interest.
A cold day today. Of course, ‘cold’ by British standards is not cold by, say, Canadian or central European standards, but we notice it in our own way. Look, someone in Royd Terrace has even lit a fire.
A return to work, whatever that means these days — for me it was mainly email. But the sun was shining outside, and on the rooves of houses up the valley. 2021 was only four days old when it cranked to a halt, but things are going better for ’22 thus far. Just about.
Being 42 