These steps lead to a reservoir that is as good as derelict, in the centre of Plymouth. I’m unsure of the exact history of the site but it looks Victorian to me. Although it’s not possible to go into the area, it’s easy to see the old structure from the University campus. Below the reservoir there is a small public garden with a now-defunct fountain that I assume was once fed by the water from above. The reservoir has long-since been out of bounds for the public, with Herras fencing across the entrances. This is one of the old granite staircases that led up to the reservoir that has been locked up for years.

As you can see, mother nature has been quietly active since the fence was erected and this ancient wisteria has completely choked the hand rail and banister. I am in awe of the way that you don’t notice nature’s encroachment on the world around you on a daily basis yet if you go somewhere that you’ve not been to for ages you see its movement. Stealthy, slow and almost lazy but grow it does. Shoots and leaves stretch out so the leaves can capture sunshine and make sugars to fuel further growth. It’s beautiful and poetic.

So, seeing something like this, I don’t see neglect, I see something beautiful in action. There is a small part of me, therefore, that feels sad when I realise that it won’t be long before this is hacked down and tidied up because the area is being renovated and the work starts soon. I have a vague feeling that the money for the work was some sort of grant from the lottery or something. So, this is a photographic memory of something that is about to change.