remote cards

I’ve not been this way since Thursday night, when I drove home from our writing session. The I HAVE LIVED HERE FOR AGES sign had started it, so obvious hanging on the roundabout in front of the church. Since then I had been constantly watching for more signs. But retracing my route on Sunday afternoon I see all the same signs, until I am back at the roundabout. Driving up the length of the Y to the split, I take the one on the right, not the one I came back on Thursday, or that I will come back on later tonight.



I was starting to think that there weren’t going to be any other signs, when I spot the first one, at the start of the park, on the fence, behind the church. The sign says in familiar blue text “I meet my dad here in Cowan Park.” I pull in just past the pedestrian crossing, and take a picture.


Half way up the length of the park I spot the second sign, again it is easy to pull in, just by those newish flats on the left. This sign tells us about the amazing people, and their amazing nights. I take a picture, glance in to the swings, half expecting to see the skater boarders that had been in there that one night I went in there with Alison when she wanted to find somewhere to skate.


The third sign is trickier; we are into the busier stretch. On one side of the road, a building site, the old folks home that was off the road that has been bought over and is being reworked, the front wall in bits. On the other the social club, set off the road, with its surrounding wall and car park. At this point I’ve already passed the sign, it was too busy to pull in sooner. So what do I do? Getting out, going back and taking a picture, that looks tricky, even being stopped where I am is probably not a great idea. But I work out, if I roll down the window and stick the camera out, and point it back, I should be able to get something of the declaration “This is where we met” and the accompanying love heart, pinned to the fence at this end of the park. Again, I carry on, watching for more signs, but I don’t see any, though I’m content I added three to my collection.


Hours later, on the way home again, coming back down the other branch of the Y, the one I’d been on approaching the first sign before. I don’t expect to spot any signs here; I’ve already driven this stretch. So I nearly miss that first one, traffic is heavy, and my brain shrugs and says whatever, forget it, not worth it. And its gone.



Then I see the second sign. And again its gone. What do I do? I can see why I missed them, they are both flat on to the road, you wouldn’t see them naturally driving, you’d need to be watching for them. I get to the I HAVE LIVED HERE FOR AGES roundabout, and I loop all the way round. I drive back to a point where I can park, a point where I can do a U-turn once I am done, a point half way between the two. I walk down to the first sign I LIVE THIS WAY. I take its picture, using a bus stop to try and support my camera. I turn to walk back, spying a woman in the top floor of the flats, watching me, no doubt wondering what the hell I’m doing in the street at 9pm with a camera. I walk back, pass the car, across the road and head for the ITS WHY I’M HERE sign. Again I try and use something to support the camera, its dark, its across a stretch of grass. Both signs are attached to the fence, behind the fence a derelict factory, it’s white walls turning grey with decay. It used to make pet food, or was it toilets? Or was it toilets then pet food and now nothing? For a moment, I can’t remember, its been so long since the building was used for anything at all, despite the sprawl of grass to its side with the fence round it and the standard Enterprise signs that say that there are opportunities to be had. I walk back to the car, turn it round, back up to the roundabout, and on home. No more signs to see, but that is now a total of ten signs, and still no idea what any of them mean.