Utterly foul, grim day, not even any good honest snow but endless waves of disgusting, sloppy sleet and hail that just kept being driven in on squally winds. After leaving the house briefly on a hunter-gatherer trip this morning I determined I would have nothing more to do with it. Today, the ‘smudges’ are in front of the lens, not on it.
Don’t worry, Manchester has not made a sudden return to the depths of winter. In fact this is the Christmas ice rink being callously disposed of. That’s your festive fun over for another year, sod off back to work the lot of you. Then again this was the establishment that was publicly playing Wizzard’s I Wish It Could Be Christmas Every Day as early as November 8th this year, so I have no sympathy. Doubtless it’ll be back in ten months.
After spending the last four days almost entirely at home, claustrophobia was definitively overcome by having a day out here. Looking rather different from its last appearance on the blog in August 2016, Llandudno was all built in the 1850s and 1860s as a massive piece of real estate speculation by landowner Lord Mostyn and architect Owen Williams. And I have to say, you can see their point.
On the return home, a healthy dosage of the white stuff. This being a maritime British winter, not one of these more robust continental versions, by tonight it had all gone.
Took the scenic route over to the in-laws’ in Morecambe today. Between home and there lies the Forest of Bowland — most of which isn’t covered in trees at all, this photograph is actually atypical. Nice drive to do in pleasant weather though. The year coasts towards its end placidly enough.
Winter, as such, I don’t mind. I can take the cold and it tends to look nice (as here). It’s the darkness that pisses me off, and we haven’t even reached the Solstice yet. On winter days when I’m around home I can just about get it in me to go out when the sun finally struggles up, but otherwise, if it can’t be bothered, usually neither can I.
Clare and Joe walking back from a visit to Clare’s gran — who certainly lives in the kind of place toward which grans seem to gravitate. This is the epitome of seaside suburbia in early December. Whatever you think of this photo, I like it because it’s just the pic I wanted to take when I pressed the shutter. We can ask for little more.
The Sam(uel) Alex(ander) Building is the one next to mine at work. Sun setting when leaving work already — but there’s still three weeks for the nights to get longer yet.
Last morning in Tromsø. It started snowing. I could say I took the good weather with me, but it was crappy at home too (although not below freezing). Great week though — many good things to enjoy.
It crossed my mind that with Tromsø being on a small island, I have not been on the mainland of Europe at all this week. Small islands (not, like, Great Britain or New Zealand) that have appeared on this blog: Tromsøya, Kvaløy (this week), Snilstveitøy (also Norway), Kangaroo Island, Stradbroke Island, Tasmania (Australia), Stewart Island (New Zealand), Wayasewa and Wayalailai (Fiji), Æbelø (Denmark). None in the UK… perhaps I should make an effort…
I guess when I pre-imagined the Arctic, this is what I thought it would look like. Skulsfjord has a cool name and sits in the northern part of Kvaløy (Whale Island), to the northwest of Tromsø. There are worse places to visit on a Wednesday afternoon.
Being 42 