Marple is a small town near Manchester. Its name may remind you of a certain old lady sleuth.
The town’s station embraces it 100%.
There is also this, on the other platform.
The poster lists all the ties Agatha Christie to the North. I’ve already covered Abney Hall on the blog.
This was the first time ever I visited Marple. I always thought it was a coincidence, but it turns out that Miss Marple’s name was indeed inspired by the town. I actually found out about the posters at the station from the Twitter account Agatha Christie in the North. And I found out about the Twitter account because they followed me after I tweeted something (I think it must have been that Abney Hall post–all my posts are automatically tweeted as soon as they’re published.) So really, it was me being a fan that helped me discover things related to the thing that I’m a fan of!
Although to be fair, I most likely would have gone to Marple at some point anyway.
I say they’re hidden because you wouldn’t probably notice them.
They’re also probably weeds but because I don’t have a green thumb I don’t care about that. I just want to photograph.
Growing from the bricks. Reminds me a bit of 2Pac’s poem The Rose That Grew From Concrete. In his case, he’s talking about someone coming from unfavourable circumstances (like very poor neighbourhood) and making it big.
The following photographs have already appeared on this blog, as part of the dead and buried WordPress Weekly Photo Challenge. The reason why I’m reposting them is the same as with the Albert Dock of Liverpool pictures. Arnside deserves its own post.
Arnside is a village in Cumbria, North West England, on the river Kent estuary in Morecambe Bay. It’s belongs to the Arnside and Silverdale Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty–you can see why.
I have added the following two pics for this post:
Here’s what happened when I took an unplanned walk to the village of Heptonstall from Hebden Bridge.
It started with this.
I thought, just because you can doesn’t mean you should–but I did it anyway. I saw how steep it was–but I did it anyway. I reckoned, if it gets too bad I’ll just turn back–but in the end I made it all the way to Heptonstall!
People I met on my way up did follow the instruction on the sign–honestly everyone was so dead nice!
I’ve not spent much time in the actual village, just enough to take some shots. My loss, probably, as there is a museum and also the poet Sylvia Plath is buried in the graveyard extension of the St Thomas the Apostle Church (but that I found out later by Googling, at home). I needed to preserve energy for the walk back!
It’s a very picturesque village as you can see.
Chicken at the Methodist church graveyard.
So that was trip to Hebden Bridge. A lot of it quite unexpected.