High Royds

Since the snow disappeared I've been feeling way out of kilter, finding it impossible to focus, that once everyday disassociated feeling returning with a vengeance. Being reminded of how I used to feel on a regular basis has at least reminded me how far I've come in a few years. I'm sure it's down to the underlying stresses of this current lockdown phase. 

Still trying to find novelty close to home, I met up with E to explore the old High Royds Hospital site, now a massive residential development in Menston. It was the first opportunity we've had to see each other this year, mainly because of the virus, of course, but compounded by the severe weather. I've never wandered around here before. We bumped into a builder who directed us to the old morgue, unsurprisingly not yet converted into a home. When the site was derelict, he told us it was the one building that wasn't invaded by pigeons. 

A shot of the clock tower here as a nod to the strange duality of time that I'm feeling so strongly at the moment. It's dragging on the one hand, yet flying by on the other. Perhaps it's no wonder my head's in a spin.