Bellerophon symbol, variation 7
Friday 1st January 2010

img_4033.jpg First picture of 2010. I don't remember taking this picture. Odd that.

Saturday 2nd January 2010

Morecambe Promenade
img_4038.jpgimg_4042.jpgimg_4044.jpgimg_4047.jpgimg_4049.jpg You know, I sometimes struggle to comprehend some of the bizarre planning decisions the councils take around here. "Hey, I know, let's convert the site of a 1930's public swimming baths into . . . hmmmm . . . let me think . . . I know! We could leave the original ground floor exterior walls of the baths, yeah . . . but demolish the inside and stick some kind of bright orange, D-shaped block of flats kind of on top, right next to PC World, kind of hovering there, using some huge black metal piston like things to keep it supported. After all, what better place to put some flats then slap bang in the middle of Lancaster's one-way system? And people entering Lancaster from the M6 will be confronted by this, erm . . . thing . . . and, erm . . . yeah . . . I think that could work." (those unfamiliar with said block of flats may try a Google search for the terms "Old Bus Depot" and Lancaster) However, the work done on the promenade at Morecambe . . . well, I like it. img_4058.jpgimg_4057.jpgimg_4056.jpg The only problem is (and we can't entirely blame the council for this) the amount of dog excrement liberally scattered about. It really is quite off-putting, having to be constantly on-guard for where your feet are going, where the push chair is going and where A****** is going. See, that's the thing with Morecambe: you can do all manner of things to improve the place but it's still full of people who couldn't care less about cleaning up after their dog.

Sunday 3rd January 2010

A walk around Leighton Hall

Thursday 7th January 2010

Ooo, look! More snow!
img_4090.jpgI think M**** took this picture. I don't know what's going on here.

Saturday 9th January 2010

img_4100.jpgI think I must have taken this picture thinking, "Ooo, that's a nice sun-rise," but this was before I looked at the camera lens and noticed some R****** fingerprints all over the glass. Still, it seemed to come out okay, the picture, despite that.

An appointment at Maureen's
So yeah . . . M**** rang sometime this morning (she was at work) asking if I could make an appointment at Maureen's, our nearest hairdresser. Both A****** and R****** needed their hair cutting. This would be R******'s very first haircut. Maureen's hairdressers doesn't have an on-line presence, which is fair enough but I would at least expect an entry in (yeah, yeah, so it costs money, whatever). . . but nothing. So we walked there instead. There was an old lady there, seemingly comatose underneath one of those weird helmet hair-drying things (what are they?!); she was the only customer. A younger lady (say, in her late 40's) came down the stairs (Maureen? Is that her?!) and I asked if she did children's hair. Yep, no problem. Some time after 2 o'clock? How about 2:30? Fine by me. See you then. But to cut a long story short . . . I don't think Maureen's really cut out for cutting children's hair. M**** and I kept trying to get some kind of positive response out of Maureen, during what was actually a very stress-free event. R****** cried a tiny bit, but nothing much. A****** just sat there, doing as he was told. And Maureen just . . . did her job, she cut their hair as she would any of her customers. And to give Maureen her credit, she even got one of R******'s long curls and tied it up in Sellotape, following our half-hearted attempts to do the same. But, erm . . . at the end, Maureen might as well have said, "You know, I really don't usually cut children's hair. It's not my thing, you know? I just do old people. Blue rinses and stuff. I was trained during the 70's and it's not like I've moved on since then, but these old dears . . . they don't really care, you know? They're hip with that," but instead of that she said, "Eleven pounds, please." I don't think we'll be going there again.

Saturday 16th January 2010


Sunday 17th January 2010

Grange, grange, grange . . .

Saturday 23rd January 2010

Yeah, sure, the beading's gone! What the hell - let's just replace the whole freaking window!
img_4156.jpgimg_4149.jpgimg_4147.jpg I think . . . think the title from this entry came from an event recently . . . was it Friday night? Who knows? Anyway, it was the end of the week, it was Friday night, I had finished work and I was on my way home. I got home and there was M**** talking to some dude at the front door. R****** was curious about all of this and kind of sidled up to his mummy, wondering who this guy was . . . probably. I kind of stood there, listening. I think he was selling windows or something. M**** was doing the whole, "No, we're really not interested," thing and the guy was like, "Well, okay, I'll give you my business card because that price is only valid for, erm . . . you know? . . . not very long and stuff so, erm . . . right," and, erm . . . I dunno. I think I've digressed. M**** was like, "Do you wanna come in?" (to me, not the salesman) and I was like, "No, it's fine. I'm just watching . . . listening, you know." But going back to today . . . M**** went to work. A****** and I made Mr. Men and Little Miss Cup Cakes. I wonder how many copyright symbols that last sentence required? A****** and R****** loved the cakes but they tasted . . . well, pretty much as you would expect, I guess, given a shop-bought pack of cup-cake mixture. Ah well. A****** felt like he made some cakes, doing a bit of baking,so that's good. I nearly forgot - it was very misty throughout today, hence the first two pictures. The sun tried to break through, with limited success.

Sunday 24th January 2010

img_4159.jpgimg_4158.jpg Well, this was all a bit odd. We drove to Cockermouth Sands, thinking there might be something to do there, an abbey to check out or something. But it was a miserable, ugly, grey place (I'm thinking, "Fine, let the sea have it"). We didn't stay long. R****** and I walked part of the way to the abbey. I took a few pictures . . . even managed to observe the distant wind farm off the coast of Barrow, if only fleetingly. These wind turbines are elusive things, seemingly only visible at certain times under certain atmospheric conditions.

Sunday 31st January 2010

img_4176.jpgimg_4181.jpgimg_4184.jpg Another of those, "Let's get the children out of the house, get some fresh air, let them work off some energy," moments. Oh, and we had a load of mouldy bread that we thought we could feed to the ducks and seagulls.