Swakeleys Park in Ickenham. At the footbridge over the River Pinn. Remembering a time before when I had come here - with Edward? - There had been an entrance into some kind of subterranean sewer working. Great stone steps in the darkness. Water. A feeling of vastness. Unable to find the way in.
Ascending a set of steps. Bright sun on trees and bushes. It is summer. Not Swakeleys Park anymore. Dizzied by the light and a sudden panic. I had been somewhere else, and it was strange coming here, outside amongst all these summery things. Vaguely spooky.
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