The creepiest place you could get to from our prefab estate was the dark stretch of river in the old industrial part of Twiverton. This is where the Silk-Farr mill once stood. The river is
hemmed in on all sides by crumbling brick-lined walls, and the currents swirl round in a demented panic to escape.

'The water is not lovely, though it is dark and deep
And I have promises to keep.'

(One of the first promises is to go somewhere else.) Just because this stretch of the river gives off an aura of dread and menace some kids cannot stop themselves being drawn towards it. They want to tempt the gods by engaging in all kinds of reckless acts of bravado. Even the iron bridge near-by has a sinister look which gets into the psyches of even unadventurous types and makes them want to dice with fate. (They should re-name it Thanatos Bridge but this would only edge some people on.) Ronnie Rogers from prefab number forty-three claims to have cycled across the high metal arch of the bridge from one side of the river to the other at least a dozen times! (The arches which span the bridge are no more than three inches wide and give bicycle tyres no grip at all.) "Any of you lot coming down to the iron bridge!" he shouts to us as he heads on his bike towards the grime-encrusted railway arch by the Lower Bristol Road.
Perhaps Ronnie does cycle across the arches of the iron bridge (although we suspect it is another
'Walter Mitty' fantasy.) Members of both the weightlifting and the philosophy clubs do not want to know. This murky stretch of water has ruined enough lives as it is. We count our lucky stars that we do not live close to it, and keep our fingers crossed that we will not have to face it until we are ready for the fight.

"Something or other lay in wait for him, amid the twists and turns of the months and years, like a crouching beast in the jungle." (Henry James.)