One has to admire the level of detail that has gone into this ‘Halloween’ window display, even down to the ‘Mushnik’s Flower Shop’, backwards, to the left. In the sign I have cropped to the right, the creators claim this is ‘Audrey III’, perhaps because Audrey II already passed through Hebden a few years back.
It is far easier to buy this kind of stuff in Hebden Bridge than it is to purchase, say, socks, or useful modern technology. This is just one of at least three shops of this kind here, and it’s not even that big a town. There is something of an optical illusion going on here — things are not quite as big as they seem…
Anyone who thinks that an ‘antique’ shop these days is a guarantee that the products for sale are somehow all going to be more than about 20 years sold is fooling themselves. But these places are good to visit, and to photograph. This place in Ramsbottom even outdid Hebden’s equivalent spot. Why this mannequin is done up in bondage I have no idea, but even she is upstaged by the Dalek behind.
Rarely has it been more welcome to be spending the night at an airport hotel and then undergoing an airport transfer, back in Cape Town. Which, as airports go, is quite manageably sized and decent: better than most. I suppose most of this stuff may genuinely be ‘African’, but it’s still an imagery for travellers rather than anything culturally real.
Joe bought me a book of Indian-style recipes for Christmas. I wanted to try some tonight, but many of the more obscure spices that were suggested were beyond my kitchen’s existing remit. But we have a very good Asian food store in Hebden Bridge. Now I know what curry leaves and tamarind actually look (and smell) like. Nigella seeds proved beyond everyone, however.
Believe me, I’m one of these middle-aged guys who has gone the other way when it comes to hair loss, and I don’t need any. Not on my head and certainly not on/in my eyebrows, ears and nose, thank you very much. But clearly there is a market for the stuff, at least among the women who shop in the Arndale Market, Manchester. And there was me thinking they did it naturally — like me (last haircut, 2/10/19 and still counting).
Two years ago, roughtly, I walked into this establishment intending to buy gifts for others and came out having spent far too much money on myself (see this post). Today I ignored its warmth and welcoming lighting; except to capture this shot, anyway.
At least I live in a town that still sustains not just one, but two proper butchers’ shops. These guys must make their entire annual profit at this time of year; I know in advance what it will be like when I go to collect my bird two days before Christmas. (Never a turkey, which is a meat I have never found all that appealing, to be honest.) There is no advertising intention to this blog, so can I also point out that despite depicting one of the establishments here, I actually ordered my meat from the other shop.
Hey ho, it’s September already, so I suppose I’d better go into Manchester, for the first time in four weeks. I guess the health of the city centre retail has held up there better than some other places I’ve been lately, but the huge Debenhams department store on Market Street hasn’t made it, the shutters closed and graffitied, the windows gathering dust.
More junk, like yesterday. But no one would come in if it were called a ‘junk shop’, so the word ‘antique’ is employed to give these various discarded pieces of trash some cachet. But it’s all for show. Take the false teeth visible to top right, for example. However old they are, I doubt they would be employed by a set decorator for some period movie.
Being 42 