Times may be a'changin', but Swindon carries on going its own way. Or is it? Just recently I notied our local HMV store has re-opened after falling victim to the terrible economic Black Death that stalked the towns and cities of England not so long ago. Not only that, but just the other afternoon I spotted the first white metal frames at the Old College site. As if I could miss them. They tower above the surroundings and make the assurances of the developers that the buildings wouldn't be any higher than the yard look like promises made by megalomaniac German dictators not to invade neighbouring countries.
Yes, the Old College is a'changin'. They've stopped shuffling piles of mud, sand, and gravel around and everywhere I see machines and building materials in a chaotic life or death struggle for space. You mean... They're actually going to build it?
Not everything changes. The male population of this town still seems to have trouble with orsinary social contact. These days I only have to be caught glancing at some people and I get accused of being a pervert. I had no idea rolling cigarettes was such a private and intimate experience. Perhaps if the gentleman concerned might care to do that in private no-one would notice him. On the other hand, I if walk past minding my own business, I get sarky comments for not being sociable.
It seems the only way to avoid such social difficulties is to walk with your head down looking at a mobile phone. Half the population seem to be dowing that now. Is it just me or am I living in some kind of fifties scifi B movie? Any moment now and I'm going to hear a Tardis appearing with some extrovert idiot waving a sonic screwdriver around. The good Doctor had better watch it though. We have plenty of joy riders in this area...
It was foggy this morning. Just thought I'd mention it.
Stain Of The Week
Every so often I make a vain attempt to take a decent night-time photograph. The results are always blurry and unsatisafying no matter what setting I use, but I try, nonetheless. Anyway with that new frame on the building site and a somewhat misty night, the scene was atmospheric, full of shadow and soft light in amber and pale green.
Having made the effort I stopped to take in the scene properly. The night air had a bite to it, yet without a breath of wind to make it uncomfortable. For a moment I I took it all in then noticed an odd shadow in the yard below me. Is that a fox? It was. Staring up at me as if transfixed by the activities of some idiot human being who really ought to be doing something useful like catching mice or digging nice warm holes. Once the young fox had realised the show was over it got on with being a fox, and incidentially, if you're the owner of a silver hatchback with some mysterious stains on the left hand side, I know who did it.