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Pyestock Diaries

home | pyestock diaries | down, down, down! car!
 


We quickly moved into the Cell 4 Annexe which was new to everyone. Once we’d worked out our surroundings, it turned out to be a simple extension to Cell 4 for the Parsons generator, its control room and associated gantry crane. It was good to tick off another of Pyestock’s illusive treasures.

I was positioned at the top of a long sloping stairway bolted to the eastern side of the building when Alex climbed up looking worried. "Marlon and Strangely Brown have seen someone in Cell 4." At that point, I was hit by the sudden switch in emotions when a site turns from being a wondrous, adventurous, fun place to one of fear, threat and confinement. We collected at the base of the control room and had a hushed council: Stay put or move on? Then there was the added problem of various rucksacks left in Cell 4. Write them off or try and retrieve them?

By now we’d caught various glimpses of the group in Cell 4. There were several of them, matching our group in size. They didn’t seem to be security but were ambling around Cell 4; so we decided it would be best to simply wait and hope they’d miss the annexe.

Our hopes were quickly dashed as it became clear the group were making their way into the annexe. There was no alternative; we’d have to front it out. So as this group of unknown people made their way into the annexe, we formed a queue and passed them on the way out. Any surprise was covered up by both groups as we simply nodded in acknowledgement to each other or said hello. The others were in their late teens or early twenties, and no-one tried to, or wanted, to stop and talk. We moved into Cell 4 collected our kit and decided that it was time to leave Cell 4.

I took some final shots of the Cell 4 Annexe as we anxiously prepared to leave. They all turned out blurred; I didn’t bother to compose or stay still for any of the shots in my haste but they remain a record of my fear that we were perhaps seconds away from being busted.

Blurred shot taken in haste eastwards across Number 9 Exhauster.
21|04|07 © Simon Cornwell 2007