Midsummer. Evening.

On the evening of  this longest day, 2014.

City Jackdaw

Everything still looks the same, but a line has been crossed.

Any change, any shift, will for a while be imperceptible. But things, as always happens, will gradually gather momentum until all is transformed.

“Time and tide wait for no man,” my father used to say.

They didn’t wait for him. He never attempted to outrun, or withstand. Once you reach a certain age, there is an air of inevitability about things. But there is no great hurry. We can live riding the rhythms of seasons, of tides.

The sun begins to set, it does not appear any different to the way it set last night, or the night before. But a person knows. That is our curse. But it is also a blessing.

Today has been a good day, shared with family and friends, and the things that count.

In the morning the rising sun will place another bead…

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Chippy On Fire?

Bus Roots

The Morning After

Manchester: the sun was out; the sky blue; the trams were running again.

Storm-what storm?

Hey Bobbie Gentry

Hey Bobbie Gentry

where did you go?

There’s a guy over in Collyhurst

who’d really like to know.

It’s always when he’s on a bridge

that he feels so.

My Kids In The Shard: Perspective

How often the imagination compensates for the limited world view of the young.

Town borders; forest edges; the last stop before the motorway slip road. These are the limits of their everyday world.

But then they are elevated high, and their vision expands, the world opens up and they feel themselves diminishing.

Look there, on the horizon: it’s the future; it’s the unknown.

Go explore.

Time Doesn’t Fly

I saw this yesterday while waiting for the 163 bus. My son James wasn’t sure if it was real, or alive, but I think that like everything else in Bury bus station it had given up the will to live.