A Heated Basin

We are living through record heatwaves here in the UK at the moment, experiencing temperatures that make you want to find a cool stretch of water and take the plunge. I took today's photograph in Brighouse Canal Basin well over half a century ago, when it was surrounded by gasworks and endless, rundown factories. You would have been risking your life by going for a swim in the canal back in those days, and even now you'd be better advised to put up with the heat rather than risk taking to the water.

A 1907 Poke

 

A "Facebook Poke" is defined as "a digital nudge or virtual greeting used to get a friend's attention." The equivalent 120 years ago was a postcard - sent, as it happens, to my great-uncle Fowler Beanland - with the slightly ambiguous message, "What Ho." The advantage of the 1907 poke is that we can compare Wigton Church then and now, and wonder what happened to all the carts!

The Swinging Sixties

The summers of my youth, when the most avant-garde experience might have been listening to a trad-jazz combo in the park. And if the sun was shining, they might even hang their jackets up and perform in their shirt sleeves. Ah, the swinging sixties.

 

Albert

It's Fathers' day here in the UK, so today's picture is in honour of my father. Taken over 90 years ago, the photograph shows a man who is both a stranger and also familiar - an older man I knew well, dressed in a younger man's clothes. I look at him and see some of my brother and bits of my son. I remember him, and I hope I see bits of myself

Bridge Art

 

There should be a special category of art for the work displayed on the metal panels that line endless railway bridges and other lumps of transport infrastructure in this country. Some of it is organised, some of it is feral, and much of it is boring and unimaginative - but some of it would earn a place in any posh gallery. My example comes from the railway bridge next to Brighouse Station and was produced, it seems, by students at Calderdale College. Well done, them.

Shibden Gate

There is always a temptation to submit images that don't pass the pinpoint definition test - or that fail short of the standard for clarity and contrast - to some AI controlled filter that promises "crystal clear pictures that look like they were taken yesterday!" I didn't take this photo of the Shibden valley near Halifax yesterday, and it's grainy uncertainty matches my memory just fine. AI, keep your hands off it.

 

Tired Pinks And Sooty Greens

 

The view looking back up the Calder Valley from the top of Long Wall, Elland provides all the sensuous curves demanded by even the most obsessive nineteenth century French Impressionist. And that palette of tired pinks and sooty greens perfectly suits this land we call home. The image is a result of my favourite occupation: just messing about.

78 RPM

 

I wake up today to discover that I have become 78. How nice that would be if it meant I could spin around faster than ever, or that the revolutionary fervour of my youth was stronger and more passionate than ever. Alas, it merely means that I've lost what clarity I ever had, I often repeat myself endlessly and have become increasingly out of date.

Stone Slates And Chimney Pots

 

This was the previous generation: the generation of stone slates and chimney pots, when harsh grey smoke drifted up to merge with a wet grey sky. It was bad for us - there can be no doubt about that. However, it will be a hard task to take a visually interesting photograph of some solar panels.

Looking Down

 

The photograph is one of dozens I've taken of Halifax from the top of Beacon Hill over the years. This particular one dates from the early 1970s. Sometimes, however, I'd been blessed with the ability to draw so I could have captured the view's magical detail. Fear not: artificial intelligence enables dreams to come true (and a fair number of nightmares as well, but that’s another story).

Rainy Days

 

You expect rain in Manchester. When I was there last week it rained from the moment I got off the train until the moment I stepped back on the train again, four hours later. The rain washed out the colours, but left the shapes. Who needs colours when you have shapes like these?