Earlier this morning I opened the back window and looked out across the Old College site. It's looking very shabby now. The lead lining on the cafetria and hall roof has been stripped off, and without the verdigrised grey cladding, it now looks oddly naked in flesh coloured wood panels. the tower block at the end clearly shows sign of temporary visits by vandals and homeless people. Smashed glass and boarded up windows.

A couple of days ago I spotted a hydraulic lift up the side of the tower block. At first I wondered what was going on, but I could see a firemans helmet from that distance though there was no sign of any smoke or flame. A practice? Possibly, though I noticed they were recovering material from inside the fifth or sixth floor. After a few witty comments from their loudhailer, the firemen disappeared from view as the lift retracted. I wonder what that was all about?

The thing is, this abandonment has a bright side. The vegetation has sprouted in luxurious green over the last few weeks, turning a dismal yard into a fine display of tree growth. Along the white fence that surrounds the site, the trees have now grown higher and overhang the barrier, and it genuinely looks nice. When the site gets demolished in the near future all that will go, and if I were honest, I'll miss the old place.

As It Was

Before I logged on this morning I was leafing through a book of old photographs from Swindon, my home town. Most of it is unrecognisable. The gothic victorian shops and houses have largely disappeared along with all the major town landmarks, not least the railway works, of which only a couple of office blocks and workshops survive. There was a time when I was young that I walked along the Midland & South West Junction Railway that went past the west end of British Rail Swindon Works that I could see the end of that massive A shop, once the biggest industrial complex under one roof in Europe, with row upon row of forlorn rusting diesels waiting for the cutting torch.

Drove Road as country lane. The old market building, now long gone, and I recall that strong vegetable smell and and constant haranguing from traders urgently seeking our cash. A police station at the top of Eastcott Hill, once next door to the tram depot, replaced by anonymous housing apartments. This isn't the first time I've had a fit of nostalgia for the Olde Worlde Swindon, a sooty brick town proud of its railway heritage, but with so many sweeping changes on the way in grandiose developments, I wonder how long these flagship constructions will last?