Reyner Street is a back alley if ever there was one. But it looked good today. I doubt the establishment pictured has seen much business lately, and I managed to obscure its phone number, too. Apologies to them.
Preston station this evening was the showcase for this gorgeous lump of metal — the horde of sightseers was not limited to the people seen here, the group extends round behind me and the camera. And why not: there is something undeniably attractive about these machines, proof that technology can also sometimes be art. It was pointing north, so presumably was about to steam up to Scotland; appropriate considering its name, as loco no. 46115 is known as the Scots Guardsman.
Astonishing vistas throughout our road trip today, to the east of Akureyri. Could have chosen any one of a dozen shots of the active volcanic region around the lake of Myvatn and the lava fields of Krafla. This one of Clare and Joe at the mudpools of Hverir wins though — because of the sexy curves of the hills behind, and because of their seemingly casual attitude towards wandering around a place that is as near as I’ve ever experienced to what it must be like in Mordor, or the Gates of Hell. This is, I guess, what I came to Iceland to see; something that surely doesn’t exist in many other parts of the world, and certainly not in Europe.
Day 888, so a neat day numerically, but I’m still laid low by whatever virus it is that has taken up residence in my body so my horizons have shrunk somewhat. What is this abstract? A footway sign, the flare from a street lamp, and steam from a neighbour’s heating vent illuminated by the traffic light behind.
It was the MA: DTCE graduation today but although it was a nice event, this was the best photo of the day, the 12th hour of the 12th day of the 12th month of the 12th year, marked by this tree getting a steam bath from a nearby vent.
Being 42 