This is what I’m writing about at the moment:
I’ve always enjoyed the idea of secret places underground, though I find them a bit scary too. I did some caving when I was a gel, and quite liked splashing around in the mud, but there’s something very romantic to me about man made caverns. I’m not thinking about ‘romantic’ in a Romance sense – no hearts and flowers and angsty protestations of undying adoration – but a passion of a different kind. A passion that organised and provided and planned and ensured that every single brick in that picture was delivered on time to men who knew what they were doing and who were concerned to do a good job. This bricks were laid in 1855 and are showing their age but are still watertight. To Sir John Bazalgette and his workforce, well done, guys.
Well, when I say “I’m writing” I mean that theoretically. I type a few words, sneer at them and do something else for a bit. Like write blog posts. The point is that the story got bogged down with minutiae in the soggy middle – the way they do – and my inner editor is shrieking about re-writing the bits that have got off message before I get any further off the point, but my commonsense reminds me that if I do that I’ll probably never finish the damned thing.
Sod it. Let’s have some more photos.
This is Eglwys Faen. I can see the above ground bits from my kitchen window. Not man made at all, it is part of a huge network of limestone caverns that extend around to the north of the Silurian coal fields. Very scary, very wet. Sadly not everyone who goes in has managed to get back out!
Here’s the entrance to Agen Allwedd
Very heavily locked and this is why:
It’s a deeply scary place.
Ha! deeply – dija see what I did there?
*sigh* back to the sewer.