The colour has gone from my life. What was once a rainbow's worth of saturated hues is now an endless progression of grey on grey on slightly more grey. This chromatic calamity occurred suddenly yesterday evening, and was apparently due to a blocked nozzle. I attempted to clear the blockage with some patent mixture I … Continue reading RIP In DPI
Month: March 2021
The Scent Of Heritage
This is a photograph from forty years ago of Cannon Mills in Great Horton, Bradford. It is a hundred yards away from where my father was born and grew up. It is a mile away from where I was born and spent the first four years of my life. And yet, I hardly know the … Continue reading The Scent Of Heritage
The Beerage
This is a photograph from forty years ago of the statue to Michael Arthur Bass, First Baron Burton. It stood - indeed if Google StreetView is to be believed, it still stands - in front of Burton Town Hall, where the bronze baron supervises the car park. I took the photograph to illustrate a book … Continue reading The Beerage
Days
I had prepared a lengthy explanation of this image, but, on mature reflection, it is better off left unexplained.
Artificial Intelligence And The Fieldhouses
I was sorting through some old family photographs yesterday, and I came across this somewhat sombre study of two, somewhat distant, relatives: Wilson and Clara Fieldhouse. They were the parents of my Uncle Frank and they lived their life in Bradford, Yorkshire. I never met them, and they may well have been perfectly charming people … Continue reading Artificial Intelligence And The Fieldhouses
A Comet Over Halifax
A couple of years worth of copies of a newspaper called "The Halifax Comet" have just been added to the collection of the ever-splendid British Newspaper Archives, and as I had never heard of this newspaper, I was anxious to dive in and see what it was like. I would like to report back and … Continue reading A Comet Over Halifax
Cast-Iron History
My Grandfather and Great Uncle Fowler made these machines in Keighley. My mother and numerous aunties worked on these machines in Bradford. My Uncle Wilf sorted wool to be spun by them; my father shifted bobbins between them. My entire family history is constrained by their cast-iron frames.
A Story To Tell
This post is, perhaps, better late than never. There is a story behind these two brothers - a story that, sadly, illustrates that it is not always better to be late than never. But the post is so late going up that I don't have time to tell the story today. I will, however, come … Continue reading A Story To Tell
Tablets Of Stone
We were walking up the tops of Northowram the other day, up past were all the old stone quarries used to be, and I suddenly spotted an abandoned pile of stone slates. Somebody had kindly chiselled numbers on each of them so they turned into a traditional stone equivalent of my daily calendar I was … Continue reading Tablets Of Stone
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