On Glasgow, and agonising over a choice of cities.
With that previous post, I’ve come to realise that it’s more than a year since I’ve last been to Glasgow. This is surely one of the greatest failings of my life thus far. Glasgow is rather like Liverpool or Baltimore in being one of these cities that takes a bad reputation from having many parts that, given the decline of heavy industry as a whole (indeed, all three cities had...
A wander in a Glaswegian urban dreamworld.
“I could be dreaming”, as Stuart Murdoch might say. Appropriate lyric is appropriate, seeing as Belle and Sebastian are a band from Glasgow. (Sadly, Rilo Kiley are not). Until this morning, I had never imagined my subconscious mind to possess the Geographical astuteness that it does; but reviewing a map now, its imagined path through the suburbs of Glasgow last night possessed...
Public transport 101: The fundamental tradeoff. →
A new post; the first post since I started using tumblr for my blog that is about transport, Skips 49 St at all times. It’s about the most important basic principle of planning public transport.
This is your next assignment.
It’s a 2,000 word essay. To copy straight out of the module briefing sheets: TOPIC 32: How different are the mobility patterns of men and women and what does this mean for transport planning? “Transport is a world designed, built, and operated predominantly by men and used predominantly by women.” — Anne Frye, Department of Transport, U.K. Describe the differences in mobility...
End of my face: Photographs
I took the most indestructible of my cameras to End Of The Road, my Voigtländer Vito CL, and the only film I had on me at the time - Some 100 ISO slide film which expired in 1999 This made for quite ridiculous results, really. Note that it was processed in E6 chemicals - what you see is the result of the film, not of the processing. To ably demonstrate that, a picture I took of some...
End of my face.
(With apologies to my wonderful friend Billie for plagiarising the title from her facebook event for those attending). Last weekend was spent having my festival virginity taken. And I would have chosen no better festival to deflower me, and leave me to live forevermore in sin than End Of The Road, a festival whose lineup was, as far as I can gather, determined following stalking my last.fm...
Notes from wanderings in West Leeds.
My brother gave me a stack of weekly bus passes that he gets by virtue of his employer. This is a mixed blessing, in that it ought to save me time in not having to walk or wait for for faster but less frequent trains - but it doesn’t; it instead causes me to take spontaneous circuitous trips. A bus going somewhere different from where I’m going will show up, and I’ll take it...