It’s a shame its head is slightly out of focus but otherwise I like this portrait of this little creature that decided to join me for a while, sitting on a wall. Not its natural habitat, but like me, perhaps it was just enjoying the sunshine.
A day on which I came very close to having nothing to photograph, but I did decide, around noon, that it was interesting that the coal shed of one of the houses across the road actually does have coal in it at the moment. The photo is one of textures, making a kind of collage. That’s my justification, at least.
Six bridges — three of which are for pedestrians only — cross the Hebden Water in town, but Hebden Bridge is named for this one specifically, purportedly built in 1510. This is something of a stock local shot but it gives as good an impression of the general shape of the town as is available.
Working at home today. This guy’s working at (a) home too, the one across the road, and decided to wield the stonecutter, or angle-grinder, or whatever particular power tool this is that throws up lots of dust and noise, each time I wanted to sit out on the front step and get some fresh air and a cup of tea. Easier just to stay indoors, even on another fine day.
Less sunny that it has been, so the light wasn’t great today and I made only brief forays out of the house. At least, on this, one of the very few pictures I tried today, I got the focus right.
It’s early in the year to see one of these outside, but here one is, scaling what to it is a substantial crag: actually it’s the capstone of a wall next to a car park. We’re both out and about fairly early, in different ways.
The topography of my home town is such that many of the paths that wind up and down the particularly steep hillsides have never been turned into roads. This one winds up the steep slope of Lee Wood, past the cricket club to the road at the top. I took it today for variety: expect a lot of ‘local’ colour at this time, ‘cos local is all that’s on offer.
Our Christmas tiered tour (it’s a Bojo the Clown thing) of central and eastern England continued, and ended, at Southwell in Nottinghamshire. A place to break the homeward journey, thanks to it being a very small town with a very large church, the Minster. These carvings rest on the wall of the bishop’s palace, facing the churchyard. Purely decorative? Or perhaps a warning, the petrified remnants of excommunicated souls? There are only these two. Going monochrome fits their age but also disguises the distracting bright green flash of moss to bottom centre.
Seven new places in seven days — a blog record. (Easton-on-the-Hill, Cromer, Norwich, Beeston Regis, Wells-next-the-Sea, Horsey and Southwell.)
This wall has been around for a while, separating the beer garden of the White Lion (the oldest building in Hebden Bridge) from the river. When this wall was built, or last rebuilt anyway, the supply of stones must have been a tad short that day. Whomever this headstone was ‘Sacred to the Memory of…’, let’s hope their spirits aren’t still hanging around to get pissed off.
Middleham Castle was started in the last days of the 12th century. In 1460 or thereabouts it passed into the hands of Richard III, who may well have trod these stone passages, etc. etc., or perhaps not seeing as this shot might be taken up a chimney and rotated? The thing I like about this one is that you can’t be sure. An impressive ruin, anyway.
Being 42 