Although this has been given a certain extra layer of grim by being taken through a rain-spattered window, it is nevertheless a reasonable depiction of what the weather was like this morning I don’t know what the face of the guy walking along the roof was looking like, but I’m damn sure I wasn’t going out there today. This is one reason why I am spending most of November 2021 out of the country — but more on that over the next few days.
I have never seen snow falling anywhere as early in a year as 17th October, but Iceland lived up to its name this morning and duly delivered, as my first flight home returned me to Keflavik. This seems even to have caught Icelanders unaware, seeing as it caused my second flight to be delayed two hours while we waited, seemingly endlessly, for the wings of our aircraft to be de-iced (“Ladies and Gentlemen, this is your pilot speaking…. We are eighth in the queue for de-icing…. [45 minutes later] We are sixth in the queue….”). But I did get home in the end.
A fifth day in a row in Hebden Bridge. One reason I have not got away from here this week has been the weather — far too poor to consider a walk anywhere, even though my diary may have allowed it. So I’ve just sat at home, feeling rather like this jackdaw looks. Then again these birds always appear somewhat pissed off.
Actually it became quite a nice day after this rain shower had done its thing. But at this point in time, those with brollies were grateful of them. Those without — like myself — well, we just had to make do.
After another hot and dry day it was a surprise when Hebden was drenched by a substantial storm in the early evening; such things can be expected in high summer, of course, but the surprise came more because there weren’t really all that many clouds around, and the sun mostly kept shining throughout. But rain it did, and hard; these two were not the only ones scuttling for cover.
Ainsdale Beach is a voluminous expanse of golden sand: so voluminous, in fact, that like many other places on the same coast, north of Liverpool (see our trip to Crosby last November), the nearby land is gradually being taken over. The buildings you see here are derelict, not (this time) because of the Great Fear, but because of the encroachment of these dunes. This is an attractive place, but a melancholy one.
The baby chard happily grows, waiting inside until things warm up — which going by the weather in the last few days, might be a while yet. I, on the other hand, just wait inside, not feeling like I grew much today, in any sense.
It was about 12ºC today, compared with -2ºC on Saturday. The sun shone for a couple of hours in the afternoon and, just for a moment, there were intimations of spring. This lady appears to be enjoying it, albeit from behind glass.
I wouldn’t call this winter harsh, but it has been cold, at least by local standards. Yes, I’m sure those of you who live in places like Montana or Trondheim would laugh at our definition of real winter, but hey, that’s a maritime, Gulf Stream climate for you.
And the creature? Well, a face perhaps. It’s certainly got two eyes, and a pendulous, possibly melting face.
The establishment in question is located somewhere round here but that sign isn’t pointing to it. Instead it just presides over a mostly empty car park, where there should be signs of visitors, shoppers, people just hanging out in the town centre on a Saturday.
One of the lies we’ve been sold over the last year centres around the notion of ‘essentia’ and ‘non-essential’ retail. Amazon can compel their drones to go work in warehouses that are centres of virus transmission, but I am not allowed to patronise a local bookshop, nor to buy a pair of shoes. This has been an unparalleled opportunity to shaft small businesses, one the Tories (backed up by Labour, who are even worse) have taken with glee, while puttng on their concerned face, and telling us it’s all for our own good. Not if you are a business owner, I imagine. But that’s OK, we can just blame them for ‘not adapting’, like not inventing a way to get nails done online. Sorry to break out into this again, but there’ll be weeks more of this crap yet.
Being 42 