Present
I can feel the bitter wind ruffling through my hair.
I can hear the noise of the Cambridge road, louded than the roaring of the wind.
Looking around the vast countryside, I see the Beacon. It must have been the tallest thing for miles.
The Clunch Pit smells damp and fresh. Muddy puddles are strewn accross the area and wellie footprints lie sleeping in the mud. Dogs walk around with their owners as birds fly from tree to tree.
Past
I watch my father walk up the weedy path to Quarrichill Farley, pickaxe in hand. Many other fathers followed him, all off for coprolite.
I watched until they all had gone.
I could already smell the foul stench of the ancient dung.
The sound
and smell of the miners intrigued me as I walked to the pit. They are musty and the wind is strong.
I see
my father waving at me and me towards him. He is exhausted and dirty he looks as if he had run across and rolled through a muddy field.
Future
I can hear the whirring of the wind turbines roaring in the fields.
Houses are lined up in rows, all identical and plain. All I can see is houses and roads. I can picture the scene as just fields but those memories are faded.
I look around at the village that has grown hugely.
New roads extended out
and new houses flooded old fields.
Everything is different
but I can still see muddy puddles
and smell the musty air.