Morning; Evening

A day bookended by two events: the final morning school run before the Christmas holidays, and a visit to Manchester in the evening for the last night of the Christmas markets.

It was like a lesson in irony, a blazing, ineffectual sun on a cold morning.

And more irony: for all of the times I have strolled through woods, along river banks and winding, countryside canals, in the centre of my town came a first – in a flash of fleeting blue I saw my very first kingfisher, skirting the edge of a fishing lake that lies adjacent to my son’s school. Not far from this frosted over short cut.

Later, night fell on us as we walked one of the Manchester’s deserted arteries, leading inevitably to its beating heart.

Laura’s place, at this time of year an appropriate light in the darkness.

Did I pronounce it correctly? Glühwein? Glüvein? Either way, it brought some welcome spiced warmth as my son clumsily devoured a Nutella pancake.

That juxtaposition again; light and darkness, in Piccadilly Gardens.

To be honest, though I’d been warned of swarming pavements and heaving roadsides, I’d seen Manchester much busier at this time of year. But, as the final Friday before Christmas, perhaps many had forsaken the outdoor markets for the indoor clubs and bars.

Outside Manchester Cathedral, surely the focal point of the festival.

The Cathedral was closed to the public this night as a charitable event was taking place, so I contented myself to take some photographs from outside. This is the Blitz window, looking into the chapel of the Manchester Regiment. The original stained glass was destroyed by the Luftwaffe bombing in World War Two.

Nearby – the blades on ice. Time was against us taking part, so I took this photograph before we set off for the car.

On the way back we stumbled upon this urban fox. Unlike the kingfisher that morning, this was not my first fox and, not shy in the slightest, it was probably the tamest of all of the wildlife we’d spotted on Manchester’s streets that night! With a tolerance that bordered on indifference, he went about his business as we returned to ours.