Sometimes I choose the subjects for my daily desktop calendar, other times they choose themselves. This redoubtable character chose herself. It might be my Great Aunt Ruth-Annie or her sister Miriam or it might be any of a half dozen sisters from a different branch of the family. Whoever she is, she sent her portrait to my father's cousin and signed it "To my dear niece with best love". She has a smile the width of the Humber Estuary and hair by Van de Graaff. Whoever she was, I would have liked to have met her.
An old fire escape and a new flyover; course concrete and bilious billboards: for me the 1980s always seemed like a monochrome decade. There was black and white and not much in-between, and we seem to be moving in that direction again. Oh, for the triumph of grey.
A small, 120 year old piece of cardboard. On one side, history is captured in the form of a picture of North Bridge, Halifax flanked by long-lost mills and theatres. On the other side, life is captured in the form of a prehistoric text message to Miss Speechley who lives in the Isle of Man. Together they pose enough questions to occupy any Saturday.
Without intending to do so, I appear to have produced a trio of images of the junction between Cross Hills and North Bridge, Halifax. Friday's was a photograph of mine from 40 years ago, yesterday's a picture postcard from 120 years ago, and today's an image from just two years ago. I've messed about with this latest photo, gone a little overboard with the artistic filters - but the view can take it. It's old and new Halifax in all its glory.
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