Tuesday, 31 December 2019

Resolution...

Well, here we are, at the fag-end of another year… and not a vintage year. 2020 won’t have to be anything very special, I reckon, to be an improvement on 2019. Trump in the White House, Boris in number 10… and the citizens of these two great nations actually voted for them in free and fair elections! My prediction - that we would never actually leave the EU - may finally have run out of road (though the story may yet have a few more twists and turns before we bid adieu to our European neighbours).

The problems that face the world in 2020 make my one and only resolution seem rather trivial: to get my book profitably into print. Nevertheless, it deals with an important subject (and, even after fifty books, that’s not something I’ve ever been able to say before). It’s had yet another edit. Now’s the time to see if there’s anyone else on God’s green earth who’d like to see it published between hard covers. I’m in the mood for some feedback… hopefully positive.

Licensed today: yacht and steamer on Windermere...


Monday, 30 December 2019

Medication...

Called in at the Howden Medical Centre this morning, to pick up my new prescription. Instead of treating the attacks of gout when they happen, I’ll be taking pills which will hopefully stop them happening at all. I’m a proper old geezer now; I’ll be able to excuse any lapse in behaviour by saying “I forgot to take my medication”.

An old lady at reception was asking how she could get back home from the medical centre. She couldn’t remember where she lived, so I gave her a lift. We drove around Howden until she recognised her apartment block. That’s my good deed for the day, and now the pub’s open…

Sunday, 29 December 2019

Broad Leys...

Licensed during the 'end of year flurry'... which will hopefully continue for a couple more days: Broad Leys, the Arts & Crafts house, designed by Charles Voysey, overlooking Lake Windermere...


Saturday, 28 December 2019

Tractor run...

Excitement in Asselby this morning, with about fifty old tractors setting off for a tractor run around the marshland villages, to raise money for the Air Ambulance service…




Friday, 27 December 2019

Santa...

In a county as flat as East Yorkshire, Santa accepts any opportunity to hone his abseiling technique...


Wednesday, 25 December 2019

Xmas...

Ah, Christmas... the time of year when we eat sprouts, bring trees indoors and feel our own shortcomings most keenly. By ignoring the crass commercial aspects, I try to remember the true spirit of Christmas: celebrating the birth of Santa Claus.

Ambleside... at Christmas...


Tuesday, 24 December 2019

Virgin birth...

An interesting article on the Guardian’s website today, about Christianity’s twin obsessions with sex and virginity. The Christian cult of virginity may be due to a mistranslation in an Old Testament prediction: “Therefore the Lord himself shall give you a sign: Behold, a virgin shall conceive, and bear a son, and shall call his name Immanuel.” (Isaiah 7:14). The Hebrew word ‘almah’, used here, can mean either ‘virgin’ or ‘young woman’ (the confusion might have arisen from the blithe assumption that a young woman would have been a virgin). It is just possible that one of the foundational beliefs of Christianity is no more than a slip of a transcriber’s pen.

Licensed today: kite-surfer and offshore windfarm at Redcar...


Monday, 23 December 2019

Stock pix...

Looking for twenty more image sales before the end of the month, if I am to beat last year’s total. However, even with a flurry of sales, total revenue will be down by a few percentage points. It’s not that the market for stock photography is contracting. Quite the opposite, in fact. But the supply of imagery is outstripping demand… with predictable results. Everyone's a photographer these days.

Licensed today: The Bear pub in Crickhowell...



Sunday, 22 December 2019

Fallon Sherrock...

Darts isn’t really my game. It should be; I’ve certainly practised enough, over the years. But I’m still rubbish…

The PDC World Championships are currently in progress at Lakeside: an event which wouldn’t normally engage my attention. But this year’s a bit different. In beating Ted Evetts 3-2 last week, Fallon Sherrock became the first woman to win a match in the competition. And she repeated the feat yesterday by beating the 11th seed, Mensur Suljovic.

Having watched the highlights of her matches on YouTube, I can see that her victories were no fluke. She’s only 25; can she become the first female world champion?

Ted Evetts shouldn’t worry. Whatever he accomplishes in darts, he's already written his name in the record books!

Licensed last week: boats for sale...

Boats for sale in marina, England UK Stock Photo



Friday, 20 December 2019

Shovel...

Bought a small coal shovel today. At this time of year you have to take your pleasures where you find them. The shovel is great. It doesn’t need batteries, or a power cable, or an instruction manual. It won’t need upgrading. I won’t have to go online to register it, or download a patch to resolve some software issue.

Licensed today: the rather splendid interior of All Saints church, Northampton...



Thursday, 19 December 2019

Tan Hill...

Licensed this shot today. The Tan Hill Inn is, at 1,732 feet, the highest pub in Britain (not the “tallest pub”, which is what a couple of American tourists insisted they were looking for, when, years ago, they asked me for directions)…


Wednesday, 18 December 2019

Pontification...

More than twenty years after the Catholic Church was first engulfed in the scandal of clerical child abuse, the Vatican has finally decided to abolish the rule of pontifical secrecy.

The Catholic Church has traditionally seen itself as above the law, protected by a wall of silence. Because of the secrecy rule, church officials were not obliged to share information with either state authorities or the victims of sexual abuse. Instead of being reported to the police, abusive priests were more likely to be moved from one parish to another, where, of course, their offending behaviour could continue unchecked (and, worse, with new victims). Those who suffered at the hands of paedophile priests were treated by the church more like perpetrators than victims. The church imposed on them the obligation of silence, in the hope that the problem would just go away.

I can’t bring myself to celebrate this apparent change of heart by the Catholic Church; the Pope only abandoned the rule of secrecy because no other course of action was available. The church has consistently put its own reputation before the welfare of victims. Instead of abandoning the rules on pontifical secrecy, the Pope should be begging for forgiveness.

Questions remain. Predatory priests seem remarkably unconcerned about the posthumous destinations of their own immortal souls. Don’t they believe in heaven and hell… and, if not, why not? Or do they know that their entire religious project is nothing more than a cynical sham?

Another twilight shot: The Sun Inn, in Kirkby Lonsdale, taken exactly five years ago and licensed today...


Tuesday, 17 December 2019

X-ray...

Went for an X-ray on my knee today at Goole Hospital. The nurse looked askance at my facial tattoo - which features the sinking of the Belgrano and the taking of Goose Green - and told me to remove all my piercings. That’s twenty minutes I’ll never get back.

Licensed today: the railway station at Letchworth Garden City...


Monday, 16 December 2019

Saturday, 14 December 2019

Anger management...

Time magazine’s person of the year is Greta Thunberg: a worthy recipient, I reckon. For a 16-year-old girl on the autistic spectrum, thrust into the limelight, she has handled herself with great dignity. She implores people to listen: not to her, but to the scientific consensus building up around the issue of climate change. She speaks up… then disappears back into the crowd.

She’s certainly piqued Donald Trump, whose sarcastic tweets serve only to demean the office of president. After her speech to the UN General Assembly, he tweeted: “She seems like a very happy young girl looking forward to a bright and wonderful future. So nice to see!” After she had received the honour from Time - an honour which Trump no doubt expected to come his way - he tweeted: “Greta must work on her Anger Management problem, then go to a good old fashioned movie with a friend! Chill Greta, Chill!”

On both occasions Greta simply changed her Twitter ‘handle’, which currently reads: “A teenager working on her anger management problem. Currently chilling and watching a good old fashioned movie with a friend.” I’m not sure why the most powerful man in the world feels obliged to mock a young girl; I just know that her responses are pitch-perfect. Go, Greta, go!…

Friday, 13 December 2019

No miracle...

A fitful night, drifting in and out of sleep, as I listened to the election results. I’m not sure why I bothered. As soon as I switched on the radio, at 10pm, I heard that the exit polls predicted a Tory landslide… which was a bit like picking up an Agatha Christie who-dunnit, only to find, on page one, that “the butler did it”. Thousands of pollsters had stood in the rain outside polling stations, asking people how they had voted… for the sole purpose of letting us know the result about twelve hours before we were going to know it anyway. That doesn’t seem like a very good use of resources and so many people’s time.

As anticipated, my vote didn’t count for much in Haltemprice and Howden, where David Davies held onto his seat with an increased majority. He won 62% of the vote, the Labour candidate just 21% (in 2017 the figures were 61% and 31% respectively).

Licensed today: the Unicorn, once a coaching inn and now a Wetherspoon pub, in the marketplace, Ripon...


Wednesday, 11 December 2019

Election Eve...

The Guardian has been publishing a ‘poll of polls’, giving equal weight to a dozen different polls. Though the Tory lead is narrowing, there is still a significant gap between the most pessimistic figure for the Tories and the most optimistic figure for Labour. So I’m not anticipating any electoral miracle tomorrow; in terms of what is possible or likely, I’m not even sure what a good result would look like.

I will cast my vote tomorrow, at a farm in the village. Though my respect for our democratic traditions is undimmed, I wish we had better choices. The current crop of politicians doesn’t inspire much confidence; any competent leader of the Labour party would surely be able to take on the Tories and win.

Licensed today: a street in Woodbridge, Suffolk...


Tuesday, 10 December 2019

Quiet times...

Things are a bit quiet, so I’m off into Goole to get a facial tattoo. It’s not every day you get to fulfil a lifetime’s ambition.

A shot of Ironbridge, licensed today...


Monday, 9 December 2019

Voting...

With only three days to go before the election, I’m mildly surprised that no one has yet knocked on the door of the Old Sunday School to ask if they can count on my vote. It may just be a ‘done deal’, with party activists choosing instead to target more marginal constituencies. David Davies held the seat of Haltemprice and Howden for the Tories in 2017, with 61% of the vote (Labour coming a distant second on 31%). My vote may not count for much.

Licensed today: a sunken lane near the village of East Coker in Somerset...


Sunday, 8 December 2019

Home deliveries...

Now that we no longer shop in the high street, and have our stuff delivered instead, there seems to be a ready market for pix like this, licensed yesterday...


Saturday, 7 December 2019

Elon Musk...

I learn this morning that Elon Musk can take to Twitter, call someone a “pedo guy” (ie a paedophile) and suffer no adverse repercussions. This isn’t some run-of-the-mill insult, but apparently the jury saw it that way. Shame on them.

The marina at Hartlepool: one of those "should I even bother to upload it?" pix. Nevertheless, it was licensed last week for TV use (and for the best price in a couple of months)...


Friday, 6 December 2019

Wednesday, 4 December 2019

East of Eden...

Residents of Asbestos, a small Canadian town, are hoping that a change of name will give the place an economic boost. Companies have proved resistant to relocating to a place that shares its name with a cancer-causing mineral banned in sixty countries.

Here in Yorkshire we have communities called Bedlam, Crackpot and Wetwang. Just down the road from Asselby is The Land of Nod, which takes its name from Genesis 4:16. “So Cain went out from the presence of the Lord and lived and dwelt in the land of Nod, on the east of Eden”…

"Responsible" gambling...

The Health Survey for England, 2018, reports that more than half the population (53%) gambled last year, even if that was just buying a lottery ticket or scratch card. There’s a call for gambling companies to “take their responsibilities seriously”, but I’m not convinced that these companies - now mostly operating online - see themselves having any “responsibilities” at all… beyond making as much money as possible, as quickly as possible, from as many people as possible.

When betting shops continued to open, mostly in the poorer parts of town, it wasn’t because greater numbers of punters were betting on football matches and horse racing. It was because each betting shop was allowed to have a maximum of four fixed odds betting terminals, known in the trade as the “crack cocaine of gambling”. The maximum bet for any gambler on an FOBT has now been reduced, by law, to £2, with the result that many betting shops are disappearing from the high street. This does not, of course, suggest that these businesses have suddenly become “responsibile, but merely that more and more gambling activities are going online. Punters now monitor their bets on their phones, instead of standing around in a bookmakers with a fistful of betting slips.

Football fans watching matches on TV are now assailed by advertising - before, during and after the game - almost all of it from online betting companies. The pitch is relentless, with punters being encouraged to think that a big win requires little more than pressing the ‘Cash Out’ button on their gambling app. Gambling can now be even more private, and there is really no limit to how much money a gambling addict can ‘donate’ to these companies (many of them sited offshore, to minimise their tax liabilities). If we wait for these businesses to become “responsible”, we’ll be waiting for ever.

Licensed today: Pullwood Bay, luxury accommodation on the shores of Lake Windermere...


Tuesday, 3 December 2019

Xmas lights...

There were half a dozen guys putting the tree up. Me: “Have you got an angel for the top?" Guy on ladder: “How are you fixed?”…

Monday, 2 December 2019

Sunday, 1 December 2019

Winter...

From a meteorological point of view, today is the first day of winter, which means that winter will last until the end of February. However, the winter solstice this year (AKA the shortest day) is on December 22, and, by this astrological reckoning, winter won't be over until March 20.

Hull, today, with my first sight of the new footbridge, which will link up the marina to the city centre. There'll be no more need to cross the busy A63 arterial road...


Saturday, 30 November 2019

The end of faith...

The young man boards the bus as it leaves the terminal. He wears an overcoat. Beneath his overcoat, he is wearing a bomb. His pockets are filled with nails, ball bearings, and rat poison. The bus is crowded and headed for the heart of the city.

The young man takes his seat beside a middle-aged couple. He will wait for the bus to reach its next stop. The couple at his side appears to be shopping for a new refrigerator. The woman has decided on a model, but her husband worries that it will be too expensive. He indicates another one in a brochure that lies open on her lap. The next stop comes into view. The bus doors swing. The woman observes that the model her husband has selected will not fit in the space underneath their cabinets. New passengers have taken the last remaining seats and begun gathering in the aisle. The bus is now full. The young man smiles. With the press of a button he destroys himself, the couple at his side, and twenty others on the bus. The nails, ball bearings, and rat poison ensure further casualties on the street and in the surrounding cars. All has gone according to plan.

The young man's parents soon learn of his fate. Although saddened to have lost a son, they feel tremendous pride at his accomplishment. They know that he has gone to heaven and prepared the way for them to follow. He has also sent his victims to hell for eternity. It is a double victory. The neighbors find the event a great cause for celebration and honor the young mans parents by giving them gifts of food and money.

These are the facts. This is all we know for certain about the young man. Is there anything else that we can infer about him on the basis of his behavior? Was he popular in school? Was he rich or was he poor? Was he of low or high intelligence? His actions leave no clue at all. Did he have a college education? Did he have a bright future as a mechanical engineer? His behavior is simply mute on questions of this sort, and hundreds like them. Why is it so easy, then, so trivially easy - you-could-almost-bet-your-life-on-it easy - to guess the young man's religion?

These are the first few paragraphs from Sam Harris's seminal book, The End of Faith...

Friday, 29 November 2019

Cawood...

Licensed today: a Mercedes sports car in the village of Cawood...


Thursday, 28 November 2019

The local...


Ebenezer Row...

Licensed today: Ebenezer Row in Chesterfield. Not really sure why I took the shot, except that I rather like vernacular architecture... especially of the modest kind...


Wednesday, 27 November 2019

'Promoting' homosexuality...

The High Court has ruled that there should be no more demonstrations outside a Birmingham school, where concerned parents - mostly Muslim, plus a few conservative Christians - are protesting that the school “promotes” homosexuality. This isn’t true, of course. The teachers don’t “promote” homosexuality or advocate a “gay lifestyle”; nor, as one meddlesome imam fantasised, do they instruct children about “anal sex, paedophilia and transgenderism”. I don’t even know how the “promotion” of homosexuality would work. “Go on, shag another bloke. You know you want to”?

Children are being taught to have respect for other people, whatever they believe, and whoever they are attracted to: an agenda we should be endorsing, not criticising. Respect, equality: who could possibly find fault with that? Well, here they are, mustering at the school gates with their placards and slogans and verses from the Bible and the Koran.

Same-sex attraction isn’t even a choice. We’re either attracted to members of the opposite sex… or we’re not. Hard-core believers prefer to think that gay people are freaks of nature who freely choose their “sinful” lifestyle. Otherwise they might have to face up to the uncomfortable idea that gay people are God's children too, made in his own image.

I appreciate that equality before the law is still an aspiration rather than a reality, but at least we’re trying. The High Court has drawn a line in the sand. This is is one occasion when we should back educational standards rather than acquiesce to religious sensibilities.

Licensed today: a Yodel employee delivering the High Court verdict...


Tuesday, 26 November 2019

Black Friday...

According to an article I’ve just read, Black Friday isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, with only one heavily-promoted product out of twenty being offered at the lowest price of the year. So you're fighting through hordes of sharp-elbowed shoppers, and you’re not even getting a bargain. As with Christmas, now exactly a month away… count me out.

I have a few pix of the Drunken Duck, near Ambleside, and they're regular sellers. This one was licensed today. The Drunken Duck was a gastro-pub even before we were familiar with the term. It gets a mention in every article about eating well in the Lake District... and the view from the beer garden is spectacular...




Monday, 25 November 2019

Leeds-Liverpool Canal...

I shoot lots of pictures of canals - they're so photogenic - and every now and again I sell one...


Saturday, 23 November 2019

Dialling 999...

It’s good to learn something new each day. Apparently, anyone calling 999 can remain silent if, for any reason, they are unable to speak. Then, when prompted, they can key in the number 55, which will inform officers that there is a genuine emergency… allowing them to trace the call and take appropriate action. All without the caller saying a word... or calling attention to themselves.

Licenced yesterday: a shot of Yew Tree Tarn, near Coniston...


Friday, 22 November 2019

New neighbours...

I’ve just met the young couple - and their daughter - who will be building a house on the vacant lot immediately to the right of the Old Sunday School. Work starts tomorrow. It won’t look like this for much longer…

Thursday, 21 November 2019

Tram...

Licensed today: a Nottingham Express tram, heading into the city. When I last went for a day's cricket at Trent Bridge, I found a good place to park up the van, next to a pub, in the village of Wilford, and the tram delivered me right to the stadium...


Tuesday, 19 November 2019

Workington...

Licensed today: a mural in Workington, a town on the Cumbrian coast...


Sunday, 17 November 2019

Promises, promises...

The party leaders are trying to outdo each other with electoral promises, funded with money from who knows where. Do they take us for fools? Yes, they do. The promises will quickly be forgotten once the votes have been counted. While Boris Johnson’s approval rating is dire, Jeremy Corbyn’s figures are, remarkably, even worse. Trust in our elected representatives seems to be at an all-time low.

Licensed last week: the cloisters in Kirkby Stephen, Cumbria...


Friday, 15 November 2019

Thursday, 14 November 2019

Bob Cunis...

The England team are out in New Zealand, playing a couple of warm-up games before the test matches begin. I’ll enjoy drifting in and out of sleep throughout the night as the action unfolds, at a funerial pace, from, first, Tauranga, then Hamilton.

One Kiwi player I recall more for his unusual name than his cricketing prowess: Bob Cunis, who played a few tests during the 1970s. John Arlott, the doyen of cricket commentators, may have had one glass of Beaujolais too many when he described the New Zealander’s eccentric bowling style as being, "like his name, neither one thing nor the other”.

More reflections in still water: the Maltings and Oulton Broad, licensed today...




Wednesday, 13 November 2019

Monday, 11 November 2019

Sunday, 10 November 2019

The usual...

The lights came on in the Black Swan yesterday, and stayed on, as the locals trooped in. It’s been six months since the pub closed, and a lot of people in the village hadn’t seen each other during that time. Without a place to meet, a community hub, a small village can become quite insular.

Not the Black Swan... but the Wellington Inn, in the village of Lund, where I was taking pictures today: a pub so posh that it's like being back in Hampshire. When I ordered a pint, I was asked "Will you be dining with us today, sir?"...


Saturday, 9 November 2019

Race & religion...

Despite what Tory peer, Lady Warsi, intimated today, Islam isn’t a race. It’s disingenuous - and just plain wrong - to muddy the waters by conflating race and religious affiliation. What binds all Muslims together isn’t race, ethnicity or skin colour; it is the content of their beliefs.

Licensed today: the Kirkstile Inn, Loweswater, with Mellbreak in the background. While some pix sell because they sum up a place, or a mood or a concept, this shot keeps selling because, strangely, it’s the only decent shot of this characterful pub on Alamy…


Thursday, 7 November 2019

Wednesday, 6 November 2019

Gone fishing...

I read on the Guardian website that Emma Watson (who played Hermione in the Harry Potter films) is happy, aged thirty, to be single. The phrase she uses - “self-partnered” - encouraged the writer of the article to bang out 500 words on the various ways that singledom can be represented in these gender-fluid times (and the ways that people - women, at least - can feel stigmatised for not ‘coupling up’). Feeling positive about being single is now a 'movement', apparently.

Though I didn’t plan to be a bachelor for most of my adult life, I can’t say I envy any of my married friends. I’ve been called “selfish”, for staying single, on a couple of occasions, though I’m not sure why. There aren’t many songs which celebrate the single life, but here is the first verse and chorus of Better Off Without a Wife, by Tom Waits.

All my friends are married
Every Tom and Dick and Harry
You must be strong if you're to go it alone
Here's to the bachelors and the Bowery bums
Those who feel that they're the ones
That are better off without a wife

Cause I like to sleep until the crack of noon
Midnight howling at the moon
Going out when I want to
And I'm coming home when I please
Don't have to ask permission
If I wanna go out fishing
Never have to ask for the keys 

Tuesday, 5 November 2019

Self-enslavement...

It’s inadvisable, of course, to call people stupid for believing propositions which are palpably untrue. I'm aware that criticising - or mocking - irrational beliefs may actually serve to strengthen them. And it's hard to find the words to describe people's willingness to, first, embrace religious beliefs and then to deny themselves the opportunity to leave them behind. It’s intellectual incarceration by choice, like walking into a prison cell, locking the door from the inside, then throwing the keys through the window bars. There must be a simple, elegant metaphor to describe this mindset of self-enslavement; I’ll have to sit down with a thesaurus and see if it comes to me in a ‘eureka’ moment.

Licensed today: the harbour and lighthouse at Maryport, on the Cumbrian coast...

Sunday, 3 November 2019

Beverley Minster...

Licensed last week: the nave of Beverley Minster, looking very Christmassy...


Saturday, 2 November 2019

Halloween...

Halloween has come and gone. I was told that buying loads of sweets was the best way to avoid structural damage, by disgruntled trick or treaters, to the Old Sunday School. I stocked up with love hearts, lollipops, wine gums and chocolate money (hoping to keep the transaction on a firm financial footing). But no kids came! Now I’m stuck with a skip-full of Haribo and a sugar rush.

Untutored in Halloween etiquette, I’d neglected to place a pumpkin outside. Trick or treaters won’t knock on the door, apparently, unless they see a pumpkin. At least I’ll know what to do next year, and I won't need to buy any more sweets. I probably have twelve month’s supply of gummy bears, and about twenty quid in loose chocolate change.

Licensed yesterday: the marina at Pwllheli in Wales...


Thursday, 31 October 2019

Chas...

Like a scene from the Godfather, or John F Kennedy announcing his presidential candidature, or Frank singing My Way, this is son Chas giving the best man's speech at his best friend's wedding. Kudos to the photographer (not me!) for demonstrating why people should hire a professional photographer to do their pix...