flags out for Bristol Harbourside Festival 2022.

There are all kinds of ships and boats moored up in the harbour for this year's festival. Fun to photograph.

On impulse, having woken ridiculously early, I drove into Bristol and took an early morning circular walk around the harbour to avoid the crowds and (mostly) the heat. It was still quite busy with joggers, walkers and cyclists and some early activity on the water as a few motor launches headed out to go upriver. It felt like the city was gently coming to life.

I stopped for a scalding cup of tea and tasteless sausage and egg granary bap three-quarters of the way round, moaning silently in my head about the amount of rubbish that was left on the streets and outside the bars by the revellers from the night before. Naturally, I had taken some pictures of the overflowing table tops and scattered litter debris to fuel my disgruntlement, but wont post them here (I had a whinge on Facebook instead). A single lonesome refuse truck eventually rolled up on the opposite side of the harbour from where I was sitting, attempting to soothe my burnt tongue. It was about half-past eight. In Europe, I moaned on to myself, a fleet of municipal trucks and workers would be out at six, cleaning up and washing down the streets; café and bar owners would be in early to make their indoor and outdoor spaces appealing for the day to come. Not here. Maybe they're all hungover. Bristol likes to pride itself on being a "green" city, but it didn't feel very "green" this Sunday morning, the air permeated with the smell of stale alcohol, hot plastic and the occasional waft of putrefying street vomit. I came home feeling quite depressed about the state of our land.