Turn left here Jon. I must have passed this place a thousand times without noticing it. A track with deep ruts and a patch of ground covered in ivy. You can pull up there Jon.Lock the doors. Walk down the track through an avenue of trees until we come to a church. The iron gates are corroded with rust. Sheets of plywood cover the windows. Is there stained glass behind there? A set of steps leading to a doorway under the church. The door has gone but the hinges remain and there’s a space as black as night in brightness of the morning. There’s something in there. Metal. A boiler or a furnace. And further on something silver, trembling in the dark. Stupid. I’m a grown man but dare not go any further.
But something’s there alright. It shines like water.