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I think I look forward to that. Like Mark, I loved the evocative prose. Robert From: British & Irish poets [mailto:[log in to unmask]] On Behalf Of Tim Allen Sent: 18 October 2014 17:15 To: [log in to unmask] Subject: Re: Odd, Brilliant Pairings I have a bit of a thing about chains too, yea, anchor chains and such. Suppose it comes from my Portland childhood. The Torpoint Ferry, which I mention below, could be very creepy at night. At the time I was working on a hamburger van in Plymouth and didn't finish work until after 1.00 in the morning when the manager (horrible capitalist sod who used to call me Our MIni Hippy) used to pick up the van and me and drop me at the Ferry because I was living in Torpoint at the time. If you missed one back then you had to wait an hour before it returned and he nearly always missed it - on purpose I think. The only thing worse than being stuck there alone in the piss smelling waiting room was not being alone - always some drunk or sinister nutter you'd be alone with for an hour. Even worse than that though was the night a car missed the ferry just as I did and the bloke offered me a lift, said he'd go around the bridge way, which used to take about an hour anyway. Like a fool I said yes. Ten seconds after getting in the car I realise the bloke is badly drunk. When we meet again Robert I'll tell you the rest... Cheers Tim On 18 Oct 2014, at 16:34, Hampson, R wrote: Yes, this helps me bring my memory into focus - the creak and scrape of chains. Singing? Robert From: British & Irish poets [mailto:[log in to unmask]] On Behalf Of Tim Allen Sent: 18 October 2014 16:32 To: [log in to unmask]<mailto:[log in to unmask]> Subject: Re: Odd, Brilliant Pairings A sound that sticks with me. Middle of the night, waiting alone on the Devonport side of the Tamar for the Torpoint Ferry to come back across. It's a chain-ferry. Low tide - long lengths of chain lying limp on the long concrete rampway. It's cold and very calm. The chain begins to creak, imperceptibly move, lift itself and stretch. Then a sudden deafening scrape as it shifts a few feet to the side, the tide pulling it. Creak. Scrape. Creak. Scrape. then the distant sound of the chain running through the bowls of the ferry with a faster and faster rhythm -clank clank clank, gradually drowning out the creak and scrape of the chain on the ramp, now fully taught and glistening in the light of the lampposts from the car park. Cheers Robert Tim On 18 Oct 2014, at 16:14, Hampson, R wrote: I have always associated this line with childhood memories of walking beside the Mersey and seeing chains hanging from dockwalls being moved by the tide... but this might be a false memory.