My paper round took me round the estate and circled the water tower, the great concrete structure that has dominated the Moortown skyline since the 1920s. A girocentric point, the hub of a wheel that my life spread out from, my Stonehenge, my Great Pyramid. A symbol of suburban indifference to opinion, arrogant in its' disregard for architecture nearby, indifferent to the activities and changes around it. This is my starting point, though I was born a few hundred yards from its' foot, its' shadow somehow stretched to me. The underground reservoir it stands beside, a banked up field from the surface, flat, perhaps the size of a football pitch, surrounded by a spiked fence and now razor wire.
Nursery Lane joins Harrogate Road and at there juncture stands the giant, holding water above air in an alchemy of the elements. Nursery Lane divides the private estate from the council estate, Moortown from Alwoodley. Even aged 10 I knew this was the hub. I climbed its' heights many times, always in fear. Through and over fence, across greased pipe, over more fence, on to her base then the steady spiral climb as wind and space lifted your heart. As fear came to a head you entered the drum and all went silent, a feeling of safety if you could just look ahead. Once on op there was no protective barrier, water gullies pierced the ten inch lip and the subtle drainage camber served to further disorientate the senses. To look down and see your world in miniature, seperated, like looking from a different time, or from the eyes of God. Atop the tower you were free. But it was freedom at a price, a freedom earned, the price was fear. Hard to describe this feeling, close to a religious experience.
Early on in this blog I described my return also found on
You Tube skree100 skree and kipper on top
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