The week has been a busy one but ends uneventfully. The weather was unconducive to a spell sat outside the pub, so the drinking was done indoors today. I believe this shot was captured through the window; a sensible approach under the circumstances.
Scafell, on the left, is the second-highest mountain in England at 3,162 feet (964m) and even Slight Side, the pimple below the sun, is 2,499 feet, so no dwarf. I decided that ascending both was a good idea on a day which reached the high 20s Celsius, and on which breezes were just a dream, happening elsewhere. This was, perhaps, the slowest walk I have done since I was a toddler. But they were bagged. (See the Wainwrights blog for the gory details if you like.)
As seen from the Walthamstow Travelodge, looking south. Yes, I’m in London again. I like London. There are things to do here.
The uneventfulness of today was largely determined by this crap. Really, what’s the point in facing it? It is forecast to improve, so I just got on with stuff indoors.
Back on November 4th 2020 I stood under the south end of the Humber Bridge — the right-hand end as this picture shows it — and took this shot. It was a day of considerably nicer weather than today, despite this being August. Anyway, this gigantic construction can join the Forth Bridge and Tay Bridge as great bridges to have appeared twice. I believe that this one is so long that the two stanchions are slightly out of parallel with each other, to allow for the curvature of the Earth, and I wonder whether you might even be able to see that on this shot, though probably that’s my imagination.
Let’s permit Scotland to offer up its combination of mountain and seascape one more time before we have to head home. The Beauly Firth is the far end of the Moray Firth; this shot is looking inland, to the Highlands beyond. And yes, somewhere over there it is raining.
Normal rain too, that is, not a thunderstorm (although we did have one of those later in the evening). Can I be the first to come out with that hardy perennial phrase — ‘That’s the summer over’.
This summed up the weather today: some fine spells but the next bout of rain was never very far away. It also sums up the fact that I was at home and am going to remain here for much of the next eight weeks, so get used to photos of Hebden Bridge.
As a result of my travels down the years I have developed a theory that the general national psyche of particular places is in no insigificant way formed by its weather. A frequent British opinion is, ‘why expect good times to last? Something crap will inevitably come along soon’, and this is applicable both to our feelings about life in general but also the weather. You saw the picture — last Friday was a glorious day. Not any more, not a bit of it. This sun hat cowers under the rain-covered glass, very glad that it is not being worn.
Pleasant, dare I even say springlike, weather in Hebden this morning deluded me into going out inadequately dressed for the wintry crud which then afflicted Manchester all day. This shot was taken from my office window, looking down: minimising time outside seemed to be a good move all round. The bike rack is noticeably unused, too.
Being 42 