A Contented Pig

 

I met this splendid fellow yesterday during a visit to the Pigs In The Wood Animal Sanctuary in Scissett, Huddersfield. When I asked him to smile for the camera, he delivered a look of such contentment and satisfaction that it was a pleasure to behold.

The Celebration

 

This photo has been in that suitcase of memories I call the "family archives" for as long as I can remember, and I always assumed the cake was celebrating the birthday of one of my relatives born in 1851. On closer inspection, it doesn't say 1851 on the cake - it says 85. Given that the photo must have been taken around 1920, that means I'm looking for someone born around 1835. I haven't found her yet.

Revealing Dress

 

You can have great fun with artificial intelligence by asking it to transform a familiar picture of your favourite relative into an image of a 19th century Victorian gentleman - or whatever you like. More revealing, though, is taking a century old studio portrait and using AI to dress the subjects in modern clothing. My photo is a 1916 portrait of my grandparents and my mother (the little girl at the front). Put them in modern clothing, and suddenly I see my granddaughter.

Long And Winding Path

 

It's the end of the month, and here is a path leading somewhere - but who knows where? Whilst this is true in a literal sense (I have no idea where I was when I took this photograph nearly half a century ago), it is also true in a wider, philosophical sense. Perhaps May will bring peace and understanding. Alas, I'm not particularly optimistic that it will.

Dirty Old Town

 

I frequently met my love by these gas works walls; they were opposite the carpet mill where I was working at the time. Around then, I may have walked a little way up Old Bank in Halifax to take this photograph. In many ways, I suppose it was a "dirty old town", but it was my town and my home.

The Maid And The Watchers

 

This photograph, which I suspect dates from the 1920s, was in an old album I bought on eBay. The first thing to capture your attention is the maid, enjoying a moment of freedom - or sunshine - before returning to her duties in the big house. Then you notice the watchers. Who are they? And who are they watching - the maid or the photographer? There's half a novel in this one little photograph.

The Sirens Of The Gas Works

 

I know what you're going to say - you're going to say, "You cheat; you've used that photo on your calendar before!. What about 1st August 2024?" . It is not the same image, however. Throughout my life, I have been drawn to Bank Bottom in Halifax, like Canaletto was drawn to Venice and Cézanne was captivated by Aix-en-Provence. The sirens that inhabited Halifax Gas Works lured me there again and again - on this occasion in 1970.

The Quiet, Rhythmic Beauty Of Cleethorpes

 

There is a quiet, rhythmic beauty to the seaside that only reveals itself when the tide retreats, and this photograph captures that fleeting interval with striking architectural precision. The image is framed through the industrial skeleton of a Victorian-style pier, using the heavy, dark ironwork as a literal and metaphorical lens through which we view the expansive shoreline of what appears to be a British coastal town. (AI wrote that, I didn't)

What's In The Parcel?

 

This is a picture of my Uncle John and Auntie Doris, taken 75 years ago. I have lived with this picture all of my life - seeing it as a child, sticking out of crumbling photo albums; as an adult, confined to cardboard boxes of family memories; and as an old man, where it has become an exercise in scanning and saving. One unanswered question has stayed with me all that time: what on earth was in that brown paper parcel?

Faique News

 

When I was in Anglesey a couple of weeks ago, I was reminded of those wonderful paintings by Alfred I. Faique. He managed to capture the very essence of the coast so well, which must surely be a sign of a masterly artist.

Smokescreen

 

A photograph of mine from back in the days when smoke and steam swept through the ginnels and industrial waste dyed the becks and brooks. It was taken from Old Lane in Halifax, looking towards the then-mighty Crossley's Carpets Mill. Most of the buildings still exist - the smoke and the steam are long gone.