Europarc 17.31 hours

21.12.18

Star of Europarc Way hovers.

Europarc double decker swings past containing condensation and Hi visualisation. Driverless pre-shift traffic flows around and around and aroundabout

Forlorn dog peers out from a back seat window

A. X zoomed into a non-descriptive hedgerow in search of something un-particular

B. The grey woman pointed at the blinding light shining across Lakeside

C. A half-empty bottle rested on the perimeter fence

D. X drifted along the winds of Lakeside past the ageing dog walkers

E. A foghorn cut through the executive smart phone legislation underneath Pegasus Way

F. Something was afoot – that much  was [un]certain

 

Heading out towards IKEA Sheffield Cathedral my thoughts skipped a beat.

I still struggled to reverse time as we moved along the tarmac, whilst I, tried in vain to ignore yet another serving of dull pain.

A middle-aged bloke with his wife stared at the young family breaking bread to the East of the Nordic Fruit Water.

She noted that the lampshades needed dusting in the café of clutterment..

X gazed at the digital blackbirds eating digital worms on the digital lawn of the digital mothballed Kerry factory some eight digitised years earlier…

Deleted emails flowed along the A/M180 amid wider political concerns.

There would be no changes to the agreement.

Impossible dilemmas swirled around a hi-vizzer traipsing along Origin Way fearing another shift of oppression whilst drinking metallic water.

 

Political voices cascaded from the Sky to the rear of The Innovation Centre.

No lets strike outward looking free trade no confidence letters however if she goes back fully behind at the moment I’m looking for somebody get behind the deal for our country if people ask me…I don’t know…customs union…policies…EEA…that is true…compromise

Meanwhile, a young process worker aggressively pushed his bike along Europarc Way whilst clutching a coffee and ice cream ball.

A part-time supply co-ordinator proceeded to scroll her twitter feed in anticipation of the escapist post-work Friday experience.

Degree of access restricted.

Waiting by the Lakeside fountain, I proceeded to write a bit about my short exchange with a Cofely Fabricom worker three years earlier (who is based at The Europarc).

I had difficulty trying to read the information boards whilst maintaining a conversation.

‘Do you like being based at The Europarc or do you feel a bit cut off?’ I asked.

The Cofely woman’s response included: ‘Been there for four years…used to be based in Cleethorpes where there was easier access into town…I sometimes get bored onsite, it can feel a bit cut off…but its my place of work.’

 

A screeching laugh echoes along the europarc way corridor from an admin worker outside the Seafood Institute.
“See you on Monday.”
Ringing in the ears compliments the sound of the fan whirring behind me at the  factory of youth.
A red helicopter makes its way across the Humber.
Tyre ghost scars on the makeshift car park gravel.

A car crawls by and pauses for a moment.
Croaky exhaust.
Blue Ford.
Drives away.
Banked up soil at the car park edges.
Wasteland clock flower memorials.
Lovelessness.
Grit.
Factory workers on foot and bicycle.
Two magpies wait on Europarc Way roundabout. One hops about in the car park next to The Seafish building.
Purple and white Interconnect bus number two passes by and waits outside The Innovation Centre.
Washed up banks of mud swamp faded memoryscapes.