One day post-Covid jab and I can report some side-effects, albeit pretty minor. These came in the form of some soreness and stiffness in the arm where I received the injection, a mild headache, and some general all-over mucscular aches. At first I put these down to the fact that I’ve been for a run yesterday, but they’re not the same as I might expect so more likely a result of the vaccination. These side-effects are pretty common though so I have no concerns and a couple of paracetamols sorted them out.
Today marked the first time I’ve seen my dad in person since last October when our region was designated as Tier-3. The recent lockdown easing measures have so far been minor but do allow for two people to meet outdoors for recreation (the examples given in the official explanation are for a coffee on a bench, or a picnic). Not fancying a coffee or a picnic – it’s March in the UK ferchrissakes! – we decided to go for a walk. It was nice to speak to my dad in person rather than over the phone and we went on a decent walk covering two or three miles.
The route took us over an old railway bridge that I don’t think I’ve crossed in at least thirty years, so I was amazed to see that there was still graffiti dating back to the early 80s on the rusting metal sides of the bridge. Most of this originated during the 1980s miner’s strike and there were still declarations of “Scargill No.1” and “Tories Out“, which took me right back to my teenage years when we would walk past these declarations on a regular basis. I’m going to go back and make some photographs when I get chance. The graffiti is still very vivid, to the extent that I wonder if some diehard advocate of the industial action that took place might be refreshing them with fresh paint occasionally. Whatever the case, I’ll get a better look next time and record them for posterity.
Today’s photo has absolutely nothing to do with the miner’s strike, and was made on another walk a few weeks ago.
Back when we were young Our lives still ahead of us Places in memory
I received my first Covid-19 vaccination today – less than an hour from when I began typing this in fact. I have to say that, despite my earlier reservations at how fast the vaccination programme would roll out here in the UK, it is currently barreling along – I wasn’t expecting my first jab until April at the earliest, so was pleasantly surprised when I received the SMS message from my local health-centre last week. I was originally scheduled to have the injection yesterday lunchtime but, being my usual organised self, I forgot to add it into my Outlook calendar at work and then booked a business meeting in the same slot. Luckily there were still available slots this afternoon.
The process went smoothly, despite there being a queue of people when I arrived. Each person was asked their name and the time of their appointment by two people outside the door to the building, who would then give each person a piece of paper with their details (including the vaccine they would receive – the Astrazeneca jab in my case). There was some minor chaos caused by the wind blowing the little slips of paper that they gave to each person around on the table, but none managed to escape. More minor confusion arose when one of the staff tried to give my slip of paper to the person in the queue in front of me. They looked puzzled as to what had happened – perhaps the fact that we were both bald men wearing face masks didn’t help – but after calling out that the piece of paper was mine a couple of times, all was resolved.
Random birch tree photo. Nothing to do with vaccinations. 🙂
The queue then continued into the medical centre building (not my usual one, but another in the area. Its within walking distance but I drove there, having done one of my C25K runs at lunchtime already, and not fancying further exercise). The queue followed the corridor into the building, myself and my fellow jab’ees staying the alloted 2-metres apart, then winding around a 90-degree corner and to a T-junction where a member of staff stood, directing people into the vaccination rooms as they became free. To the left was a seated waiting area for anyone who had driven to the centre to sit and be observed for 15-minutes after receiving their jab. The man in front of me told the member of staff that he didn’t have time to wait around, and was advised to let the doctor administering his vaccine know.
Shortly afterwards it was my turn to go in and I was directed to the nearest room to where I was waiting. A masked lady in a flower-patterned boiler-suit asked me to sit down, and then realised she had no doses of vaccine left, so went out to fetch more (and to re-fill her bottle of juice). Shortly afterwards she returned with a box filled with vials of vaccine and some syringes. She looked somewhat frazzled, and I can only imagine how tiring it must be to vaccinate what appeared to be a never-ending line of recipients. She mentioned that they had had a couple of “fainters” earlier in the day, which had scaused some delays. After asking me a set of questions about allergic reactions and so forth, presumably with the hope that I wouldn’t join the “fainters” (or worse), I was asked which arm I would prefer to receive the needle. Having no preference one way or the other, she asked me to uncover my left arm and swiftly administered the dose of vaccine. A momentary sharp pressure in the muscle of my arm and it was done. She wrote a time on a sticker and told me to go to the waiting area where I should stay until the 15-minutes had elapsed.
The waiting area had a couple of nurses who gave each person a card containing details of the vaccination they had received, including the batch number, and said to keep it safe as we would require it when we received the second dose of the vaccine. Those people who were not driving were allowed to leave straight away, but otherwise we had to take a seat and wait. The nurses would regularly circle the room checking if people were ok and looking at the times on their labels to compare with the clock on the wall before setting them free into the world once more. Fifteen minutes later I was released without any side-effects (or becoming a “fainter”.
More birch trees. Still no relevance to anything I’ve written…
So that’s my first jab complete. In a few weeks time I should have significant resistance to the worst effects of Covid-19 should I catch it, and in around 12-weeks I will receive the follow up injection.
While there are still concerns that some variants of the virus may be more resistant to the existing vaccinations, I am hopeful that this will lead us out of the worst of the restrictions we’ve had here in the UK and that there will be a return to a greater semblance of normality before too long. Fingers crossed!
A jab in my arm Just one out of millions To protect our lives
Oh look, more silver birch trees. Look, if I had a photo of a syringe, I’d have used that. 🙂
A short section of the Trans Pennine trail close to the western entranct to Rother Valley Country Park. At the end, it cuts to the left on the park entrance path, crosses a bridge over an active railway line, before dropping back to run alongside the tracks to the north for half-a-mile or so. This area was covered in a lot more foliage until the last year, when some tree felling and trimming has taken place. Just off to the left of the scene where the trail curves around the path is a pile of thin logs that remain from the work.
Curving path heads on Up north and to points beyond And then east and west
One of those impromptu, spur-of-the-moment shots today showing some string holding together one of the stick-structures that I’ve featured on my blog before (such as here – in fact, if you look closely, you can see the same piece of string in one of the shots there).
It’s slightly out of focus as it was taken at close distance with a wide apereture and I might have been swaying slightly while I made the image. Nontheless, it appeals.
String ties branches tight These mysterious structures Built by unknown hands
I’m absolutely shattered this evening. I’m having a bit of a stressful week at work – nothing bad, just something I’m working on that I’ve not done fully before and I’m focussed on trying to make the best job of it that I can, which is taking a bit of a toll. Plus, on the physical side, I completed week seven of Couch to 5K today – the last of the 25-minute runs. Two more weeks to go, and three 28-minute runs for the next week. I always feel a sense of achievement when I complete one of the runs, but I wasn’t in the mood today, and it took effort and willpower to not stop moving.
Another grainy HP5+ photo today.
Geese on the water So serene on the surface Liquid hides effort
A bit of a mystery about today’s photo, which depicts a foggy morning at Rother Valley Country Park. The puzzle is in regards to the graininess of the image. It was shot on Ilford HP5+ rated and develoed for 800asa. I’ve shot HP5+ pushed a stop before (and pushed by much more in fact) and not encountered the amount of grain that is present in this shot (and a few other misty, low-contrast scenes made on the same roll of film). Even more curious is the fact that it’s only a handful of frames affected – most of the images show smooth and unobtrusive grain.
My thoughts are that it could be the way the scanner handles this type of scene (or perhaps my settings). I tried scanning the picture with both Silverfast and Vuescan and received similar results from both. It would be interesting to see if the grain is present on the negative itself, but I don’t have a loupe to use and haven’t bothered trying to use my digital camera and macro lens.
Despite the unexpected and unplanned look of the image, the grain gives it a very pleasing atmosphere, so I’m not disappointed by the result.
Golf ball sized film grain Appearing out of the fog It’s a mystery
This photo is a potential competition entry under the theme of “shiny”. The vase is quite shiny so it should fit but there’re still a couple of weeks until the deadline yet, so I’ll wait and see if I find anything better before then.
These plastic flowers In a shiny golden vase Sit in the sunlight
Today marked the end of the road (or should that be rails?) for the Beighton Station signal box. It’s demolition has been planned for some months now and, despite campaigns to save it, it was demolished this morning.
My wife and I walked down yesterday afternoon so I could make a few photos while it was still intact, although surrounded by wire fencing. A conversation with one of the contractors on site revealed that the demolition was planned for today at 8am. So, my alarm set for seven, I rose this morning, fed the cat, and drove down to see the event take place.
I needn’t have gotten out of bed so early as not much was happening. There were a lot of contractors on site – a dozen or more at least, and the method of the box’s destruction – a large CAT excavator with a claw attachment – could be seen parked a little way down the railway tracks. The tracks have been closed to rail traffic for the duration of the activity, and the level crossing is only open to foot traffic. As well as the workmen, there were a few locals there to witness the demolition, at least two of whom I discovered had worked in the signal box in the past. There was a bit of excitement when a large metal skip was delivered to take the remains away, but still nothing much was taking place. The box still had the Beighton Station sign affixed which needed to be removed as it has apparently been promised to the local lifestyle centre as a souvenir.
It was quite cold at the location, especially while standing still, so I decided to take advantage of the slow progress and pop back home to grab a quck breakfast before returning. This is where things went off-plan…
Getting back to the car, I turned the key in the ingnition and… nothing. Despite the car having started perfectly an hour or so before, the battery was now almost completely dead. The radio would come on, but the engine wouldn’t turn over at all. My choices were not to either go back to the demolition and sort the car out afterwards, or call the breakdown service to get it back on the road again. As today was Mother’s Day here in the UK and we were planning to go out for something to eat at luchtime – don’t get excited, the lockdown restrictions meant that the day would be celebrated by my wife, our sons, and I treating ourselves to a drive-thru burger while sat in the car. These plans meant that I needed to get the car sorted out as soon as possible. The breakdown company stated that it would be 2-3 hours and that I would get a call twenty minutes before the recovery vehicle arrived. My plans of seeing the demolition of the signal box slipping away, I decided to walk home, get some breakfast and wait for the call.
The walk home took about 10-15 mins and then, liteally a minute after getting there, I received a text saying the breakdown recovery vehicle would be with me in 10 minutes! Not having time to get any breakfast, and thankful that we have two cars, I asked my wife to drive me back down to where the other car was parked. The recovery vehicle arrived at exactly the same time we did, and I crossed the road to speak to the driver. After popping the bonnet, he ran some tests on the car battery which revealed itself to have a faulty cell, necessitating a replacement. The options were to get one fitted there and then, or to be towed to a garage or branch of Halfords to get the work done. Given the paucity of time available to me I decided to let the recovery service replace and fit a new battery as this would get me back on the road straight away.
Soon I was back home and munching a hasty breakfast of granola before heading back to the signal box to see if work had begun (or, knowing my luck, that I had missed the whole thing). When I got there I was pretty much right on time though. While I’d missed the removal of the Beighton Station sign – which I’d hoped to record with a photo – the excavator was only just about to start its work.
I spent the next half-hour making photos of the gradual demolition. There were more people around by this time, many of them making photos or recording video, and I made a couple of dozen images of the scene until the building was down to its lower brick section. My time running short, and the roll of film at an end, I decided to head back home.
I have a busy week ahead, so doubt I’ll get to develop the film until next weekend, but I’ll be sure to post a series of pictures depicting the day’s events once I have the negatives scanned. In the meantime, here’s a picture of the box I made back in November 2016.
Beighton Station box A witness to many years I bid you farewell
Olympus 35RC & Dixons branded 200asa film (expired June 2004). Grain2Pixel conversion.
Although I didn’t spot it at the time of making the photo, the concrete post on the left of this image appears to have a somewhat shocked expression, like I’ve caught it in some sort of compromising incident and it’s now aghast at being photographed. It has a vague look of V.I.N.C.E.N.T, the flying robot from Disney’s 1979 movie, The Black Hole about it.
Shocked looking fencepost It seems strangely animate Caught on camera
This is one of the shelves in my shelving unit. It’s not very tidy or well organised. The truth of the matter is that I have too much stuff for the space I have, or at least I need to have a proper think about how it’s all stored. I guess I could alter the height of the shelves so that the books could be ordered differently – while some are grouped together by author / subject, it’s hardly an effective library cataloguing system. I was also somewhat bothered when I saw that the dust-jacket of From Uncertain to Blue was being distorted bt the book above (a copy of Uncommon Places by Stephen Shore, should you be interested). Don’t worry though, I’ve sorted that out now!. 🙂
I have a couple of other shelving-units / cupboards with shelves in them but a lot of the space in those is filled with stuff that could either be chucked, go on eBay to raise a bit of spare cash, or re-arranged and put elsewhere such as in the loft (some of the stuff I’m reluctant to get rid of is also stuff I don’t look at very often).
The photobooks are going nowhere though!
Disorganised shelf But still full of interest Not a bad problem
Steel City Snapper photography 