Posted: 11/01/22

Sunrise 29 November - David Eldridge

A very icy morning.  One of the first things I saw was a lad in the park slip and fall on his backside!  He was soon up and laughing with his mates though. 

Found myself torn between the east and west sides of the pod.  East was the sun, basking in its warmth as it rose and shone through the low clouds.  West was cold, icy air coming through the vent and chilling my feet.  But West was where the people were, where the stories were, as first staff then students arrived at the College.  You want to look into the distance, to take in the city, its architecture all muddled, some impressive and some ugly.  You want to be able to see past some of the buildings that obscure your sightline – but you can’t, they remain obstinately in your way.  But very quickly you stop looking in to the distance and focus on the life in front of you.  The people.  Only two girls waved but how that made me grin from ear to ear, when they acknowledged the voyeur on vigil.  You focus on what’s near to you because they are the elements from which you can discern a story or see their idiosyncrasies in how they walk, cycle, talk with friends, huddle together for a smoke or a coffee against the cold.  I saw how monochrome we are though.  All blacks and greys.  The odd red coat, orange beanie, or hi-viz jacket stood out so much.  But then, just as my time was ending, the sun hit the west side and united the two sides of the pod, as light flared reflected in the pond of Queen’s Gardens, a strip of bright white-gold; reflected too in the ice near Maritime Museum.  And I no longer had to go to East side to see the sun.

Fantastic experience.  I would love to stay all day and see this city change with the light, to see what becomes visible and alive throughout the day.  Thank you for this brilliant idea and experience.


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