Our Victorian house has always provided various nooks and crannies in which spiders can happily make a living, but like various types of fruit, the species has had a particularly good 2025 — at least at our place. Some mass hatching, then subsequent occupation, occurred in the spring. Alternative versions of this shot are currently available: Spider Above Bath, Spider(s) In Kitchen, Spider Lurking Above Front Door…. take your pick.
There is little point staying in on a Saturday, particularly not when the weather continues to be very pleasant. But with Hebden Bridge itself a magnet for day trippers I’d rather go somewhere else. Atherton, near Wigan, is accessible from home on a direct train — that’ll do. And they seem rather proud of local lass Keely Hodgkinson, winner of Olympic gold in Paris (800m), but why not be?
A hidden corner of campus. This shot has no deeper meaning, I just like the textures, of trunk, undergrowth, the wall. Although maybe that stuff on the wall is mould, but then again, you should see our bathroom wall.
This sits on my usual walking route to campus so I know it hasn’t been up for long. I wonder how many other artists who have been dead for 30 years might still receive such tribute. Or perhaps it is a political message. Perhaps the reference is to hidden subliminal messages in Bobby Brown. Perhaps all those 12 key changes in every track will assist in unlocking the secrets of the tellurian currents. But I’m probably not going to start listening to Zappa — I did try, a couple of times, but it really didn’t work out.
It’s a valid political opinion. Whether anyone pays attention is a different matter.
This has hardly been the most eventful December — not a single photo in the month so far has been taken further than 30 miles from home — but this will change soon enough. Today is also day 4,500 of the blog, a nice round number: I have done one of my periodic updates of the stats, a page which if nothing else, proves quite how anal I am.
Christmas decorations appearing in early November, I have learned to live with. But Halloween ones appearing more than six weeks before the fact? Ah, goddamit. Society is crumbling. (This may, of course, not be a specific Halloween reference but let me grumble.)
Sitting at a table on the forecourt of the Bay Horse pub in Oxenhope, I noticed this metallic-looking bug on the pipe next to me, took this picture, thought no more about it. Another one appeared in Clare’s glass, while fishing it out we discussed what species it was, had no idea. The decision was made that its colouring should be described as ‘bronze’. Then after moving on to watch the football, another appeared. Then another. Not swarms, but a constant stream. I still have no idea what type of insect this is, but there has certainly been a mass hatching of them in the Oxenhope area.
Cowdenbeath, a little town in Fife, offered various entertainments as an excuse to break today’s journey up to Dundee. One that was unanticipated before I got there was a series of really excellent, and huge, murals that decorate the town centre. This one is remarkably good. Look at the sense of focus, and hence realism, that the artist has achieved. Those trucks look absolutely solid. Would that I could get things in focus like that, sometimes.
I wonder how many organisms inhabit this house along with the two of us. None on an open basis — that is, no pets — but the cave spiders have long been part of the family, and then there are the more occasional sightings of tenants. This louse made a point of crawling down the study wall from somewhere behind the shelves at the top, and disappearing behind the radiator at the bottom. This may have been a one-off journey but for all I know it’s a regular commute.
I’ve lived within a few yards of this door for twenty-one years and have absolutely no idea what is behind it. It seems to simply go into nothing: on the other side, so far as one can tell, there is merely a large clump of undergrowth. I genuinely feel that this might be a portal into another dimension. Or perhaps a secret MI6 rendition chamber. (But probably it’s just an old coal cellar.)
Being 42 