My bre'r is passing the graving docks and spots smoke wafting up through the morning air. He sprints down to the pumphouse and catches an elderly gent by surprise. He's crouching in the middle of the hall, bent over a blaze, box of Scottish Bluebell on the floor of broken tiles.
"What you doing?" he demands.
"Aw mate, it's fine. Just burnin aff the plastic tae get the wires oot," he says, holding aloft a melting cable.
Since the undergrowth was cleared from the dock, it's hard to find any cover for traditional riverside activities.
Wednesday, 29 April 2015
Friday, 24 April 2015
Tyred Out
Fires at the Pumphouse on the Graving Docks smoulder on.
A guy with 3 big dugs is seen approaching the broken fencing, then turns aside, then dodges back again and goes through the railings. Ten minutes later there's black smoke billowing from the building, and it stinks. Tyres apparently.
A guy with 3 big dugs is seen approaching the broken fencing, then turns aside, then dodges back again and goes through the railings. Ten minutes later there's black smoke billowing from the building, and it stinks. Tyres apparently.
Tuesday, 21 April 2015
Hot Property

Not too much in there to catch fire though, so the structure stands firm. For the moment.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)