I took a stroll down memory lane that was my plan. I wanted to see the Pusey Church. Grade 1 listed an important building in the Leeds scheme of things. Whole districts have come and gone, wars have been fought yet still it hangs on.
Still a living church, only just. How many old churches have become carpet warehouses, theme pubs or apartment blocks? Whether you are a believer or not old churches are something to be cherished, aren’t they? For me they provide a link to the past, all those people who have passed through their doors. Generations who have climbed these steps from the street below.
First came row upon row of lowly terraced houses for the out of control Victorian industrial city. Later hundreds of post-war prefab’s, now houses, flats, apartments all around once again a thriving population.
Two large churches stand high on a hill built to compete, one empty one not. Enough people nearby to fill them both twice over. At the same time, every Sunday.
Will this area ever have a stable population? Each generation new and temporary.
Economic immigrants looking for work, then homes for those returning from war.
Now full circle a new generation drawn to the city looking for work.
The area of my childhood, yet I am a stranger and no longer part of the community I grew up in. I wander in a day-dream, here the grim reality of this old industrial city. Unmarked graves a cholera pit but soon the here and now intrudes. Two men sitting in a tree drinking super strength cider. Who or what or why? I don’t ask this is a lonely spot even in the heart of the city, time to leave this place to ghosts and tramps. Maybe this time for good.