The thing about photography is that it makes even the most dreary, damp, overcast weekend a pleasant one. I'm not sure why or how it does this: maybe it's something to do with the entire process being so often so unhurried: metering, focussing, composing, holding your breath as you gently squeeze the shutter into action. Maybe, it's the temporary darkness that comes over your vision as you bring a huge black camera to your one remaining open eye and peep intensely through its tunnely-viewfinder, at once walled away from your subject and yet, intrinsincally, a part of it as your brain records how it looks, perhaps for the first time with any accuracy.
Well, whatever. Here's a picture of a vanishing Humber Bridge.
