Flowers for IWD

No heavy content for International Women’s Day this time. I’m just giving you some flowers. It’s been a tough time.

Communists used to be big on IWD, as I remember, though it’s not like they went deep with it; nothing about women’s rights or anything. Worker’s union (there was only one) would give female employees in all workplaces a flower–a single carnation–and a small present and afterwards there would be little celebrations or a parties. It was just an opportunity for them to pat themselves on the back, look how great we are and respect women! Also, because at that time we didn’t celebrate Mother’s Day, kids at school would make presents for their mums, like a handmade card or similar.

That came out more cynical than intended, ooh.

So, anyway, happy International Women’s Day!

Beginnings of Spring in the City

At least I hope so, it’s certainly looking that way. It is a bit too early–these pictures were taken on the same day as the Peaky Blinders sets ones of the previous post, so the penultimate day in February. They’re all from St John’s Garden, a little park in Central Manchester, on the edge of Castlefield.

Daffodils!

See that crow in the tree? (It seems to be my thing, birds in trees.) It was cawing its head off, but what was funny was that it sounded hoarse, as if it had a sore throat. I can’t describe it any other way. People were looking at it and laughing.

White Flowers in the Dark

This photograph would not have existed had things not happened in the exact way they did.

Very dramatic, I know. The reality is much more mundane, though. But it’s still true.

So, I like fast food. Not only do I get fast food every week, I get fast food several times a week. Coronapocalypse has only exacerbated this. Last night, I went out yet again to get me some. I ordered a burger meal and the guy behind the counter said: “it’ll take 10 minutes”. I said okay and instead of waiting inside the shop staring at my phone (the signal isn’t always good in there) and despite it being dark and quite cold now, I decided to walk around the block. It’s a familiar street, been there a million times, the street borders the park that has seen so much of my presence in this strange year. And then I saw them. Growing in someone’s front yard. White flowers, blooming. I don’t know what they are, I’m not good with flowers. I took the phone out of my pocket and snapped a picture and here it is:

I did not expect it to turn out as well as it did. I tried to keep my hands steady while it was being captured and thought it would still come blurry. But it didn’t.

And this is how I ended up with the best photograph ever taken in my whole life.

It’s had no adjustments, apart from some added brightness. It’s not even cropped. Taken with my smartphone, I stress once again. When I wasn’t even trying. Here’s your motivational story.

This post could be a companion to this one from last year–same colours, only that one is staged. Also has the gothic romance aesthetics. As it happens, my favourite book of all time is Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier. (The new Netflix adaptation is very underwhelming. Read the book, or watch the Hitchcock version instead.)

So, that’s it. Imagine if I cooked that night, instead of got a takeout. I would never have ended up with the best picture of my life. Checkmate, healthy eating enthusiasts and foodies!

Daisies May 2020

I feel like, throughout the whole existence of this blog, I have never given daisies the justice they deserve. So while going out for walks during this pandemic, I’ve been keeping my eye out for daisies. My local park had just what I was after.

Pictures taken with my smartphone, again, as my camera has been untouched for majority of this spring, because what’s the point…

The five of them were so together, away from the rest of those on the above three photos, that it made me think: okay, so they’re either five members of a girlband or the five Bennett sisters from Pride and Prejudice.

Fading

It is miserable out there.

Every weekend a new storm. Every day, constant rain. If it’s not raining, it’s windy. It’s cold. It’s bleak. You doubt if spring and summer really exist, if they’re not just a product of your imagination.

So you stay at home. The only thing you have is a bunch of half faded roses you bought yourself for Valentine’s. At this rate, you’re soon fade too.

Apologies for the terrible purple prose but I’m so over this atrocious weather!