A nice comment from Apprentice regarding Dawdon, linked me to Swing's Weblog; what a great idea for a blog! I've loved the swing bridge for as long as I can remember. When I was little, I remember it used to feel gloomy yet strangely exciting down at that part of the Quayside. Now of course it an entirely other, post-industrial, world. A year or so ago I was having a pint with my mate Jim at that upmarket Wetherspoons on the quayside, and noticed that the bridge opened frequently, to let - as I remember it - those sightseeing/boozing ferries up the river. In an hour or two, I saw it open and close more than I had in years previously.
More explorations at britblog have unearthed this dark little cloud from over the water, and by way of contrast, this from Wales. I've realised that I've accidentally embarked on a tour of the British Isles (that purely geographical term, mind), so far as the blogroll goes.
I started on the garden at the flat last night and oh my God! The electric strimmer Dad leant me is definitely out of it's league here. I need to borrow or hire something industrial. I set about doing some first aid: the laurel bush was thriving despite being totally hidden by weeds. It was all a bit depressing, apart from that . I had such plans for this garden, but two years neglect whilst I was in bliddy Libya and it's gone native. And now we've decided to move anything I do is almost for form's sake.
And now I'd best get to the allotment and do further battle with the horsetails. I never thought it would be so much work.