There has been a considerable amount of travelling evident over the last two months, and it’s not quite finished yet: I have one more trip to make, coming up. But this week it has been time to settle in back home, and expect most of July and all of August to be much the same, I have writing to get on with. Meanwhile, though, a hole in an old bucket. It might not be in Canada, or Namibia, but it’s still something to enjoy.
Hebden Bridge and Mytholmroyd, though considered by some authorities (e.g. the post office) to be the same place, are separated by a clear half-mile or so of space in which there are no houses or buildings on the main road or the path/lane that goes through the woods and along the river bank, the latter being my favoured way to walk between the two. And on that path, it is this rusting, graffiti-covered but still mostly intact cargo container stood in the woods that, for me, represents the moment at which I arrive in Mytholmroyd (though after that it’s still a good fifteen minutes’ walk to get to, say, Joe’s school, which is where I was heading today). It’s been close to getting on the blog for some time now — let’s finally feature it. I like the ‘smiley face’ in the rust to top right.
Being 42 