There

There’s not a lot of places to go in my town. There’s an industrial estate on the outskirts, warehouses blotting the landscape. We went there as teenagers after failed attempts to get into the local nightclub. We sat on cold wavin pipes, concrete tunnels and wondered. Wondered about climbing the cranes that were always there. During the day it held none of the same appeal. Desolation and emptiness suited our moods, cars coming in and out of the car park, students attending the youth reach, people spending their days in blocks, during the day it was just ugly not dangerous. Dangerous. Thats why I can’t go back, too many memories. Danger used to excite me, not frighten me. We drank too much one night, idle wonderings about the crane turned into a reality. Sometimes my mam wheels me by on the foot path, we have to go by there because there’s not a lot of places to go in this town – I try not to look.