They’d just made a start on building this bridge when I moved to this town.
Where Asada now stands was a pipe-yard. Pipes for what I don’t know but they came in all sizes and made for fantastic photos. Part of that yard remains as “wasteland” where migrating birds rest-up from their journey.
Where I’m standing to take this photo then was a higgledy Dickensian-looking array of boathouses reached by a narrow path between two ramshackle warehouses. I remember, redstarts nested there.
How much this has changed. Recent investment in the town has cleaned away the debris, left it modern and sterile. Thirty-eight years I’ve been in this town. Sometimes it seems like yesterday.