Several years ago when I obviously had as much time on my hands as I do now, I went through a phase of using Photoshop to single out colours on a photograph against a monochrome background.
This is one I did on an image taken on a sunny, spring day at the junction of Broad Street and High Street in Pershore, Worcestershire. Hours of fun!
One of our regular walks takes us over an oil pipeline that runs from Fawley in Hampshire up to the West Midlands. It was built in the 1980s and is here 164.9 kilometres from its start point. It's gratifying to see that imperial measurements are still alive and kicking as witnessed by the 14 inch pipe diameter.
Once more we are cut off to the south. This is somewhat restricting when it only leaves one road out of the village. Fortunately it takes an almight deluge (as happened in 2007) to cut us off to the north as well.
As a result of the River Avon frolicking beyond its banks, today's trip to the farmshop for some goodies was 24 miles instead of 5. Not a big problem as, with the current restrictions, it's pleasant just to have an excuse to drive anywhere.
Keills Port, a grand name for an inlet with a small jetty on the Knapdale peninsula in Argyll. Looking west towards the Isle of Jura on one of those perfect days that come along from time to time in Scotland.
I posted this today as an antidote to the stormy weather that we're having - I wouldn't fancy being there now.
Just back from my daily walk - I say daily but you'll not get me out if it's raining. It's a tedious and unpleasant form of exercise, akin to being on a tread mill but with added weather; today it manifested itself as a cold westerly.
My preferred exercise, if there is such a thing, is cycling. Unfortunately thousands of miles bowling around the countryside gave me problems in the bike/body interface region which needed clinical intervention so I gave it up. On foot it is then although, with my dodgy ankles, for how much longer?
Not so much a splash of red as a riot. This corrugated iron church is near the village of Daleswinton in southern Scotland. Makes a statement.
On the way we stopped off at a place on the map called Spotted Horse. It looked like a useful midpoint on our journey, the only habitation for miles and perhaps a couple of cafes, an antiques shop or two, somewhere to wander. However this image shows the whole shooting match bar a caravan behind camera. The garage sold everything and was run by a couple who must have been on a 'How to be an Eccentric' course.
Monica is sitting outside chatting to the owner. We had a typical American coffee - how they ever have the nerve to complain about the coffee in England - and resisted the food. As we left they presented us with a bumper sticker - I don't think many Brits passed their way.
Several splashes of red here and that's going to be the theme this month.
