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Time: 2030. Place: The northern side to the entrance of Ryde Harbour on the Isle of Wight.
From where I am, facing west, the most significant feature is Ryde Pier. The pier constructed in 1815 is the oldest pier in Britain. It is the fourth longest behind: Southend, Southport and Walton-on-Naze. It actually consists of three piers: one for the railway, another for a tramway – disused since 1969 and the busiest section which is utilised by pedestrians, cyclists and light traffic.
As I hold this in my minds eye a train rumbles down the tracks. The train has two coaches and is of ex London Underground stock… and liveried, for heritage reasons, in London Underground colours. The train is due to meet the 2015 Catamaran from Portsmouth Harbour.
There is also a stream of cars travelling down the pier to either pick up passengers from the 2015 from Portsmouth or drop off for the 2040 to Portsmouth Harbour.
The twinkling of head and tail lights from the vehicles in the twilight evening travelling down the pier looks pretty I think.
Beyond the pier and to the west, about four to five miles away, is the northern most point of the Island which ends in East Cowes and Cowes. I can’t make out East Cowes but I can just discern in the fading light the ‘Twin Towers’ of Osborne House.
Beyond – getting on for perhaps near on twenty miles – I espy the orange glow of Fawley Oil Refinery at the far mouth of Southampton Water, curiously attractive.
The sun is swollen, bl**d red and shortly to dip below the horizon.
Between the pier and me is about an eighth of a mile. At the base of the pier is the Esplanade Railway Station and landward to that, Ryde Bus Station – where I used to work.
Traversing east is first the Hovercraft Terminal with its concrete apron and three craft finished for the day and next to that is Planet Ice where you can ice skate and watch the Wightlink Raiders ice hockey team play, there is also a gym above and round the rink.
Further along is LA Bowl and above that a popular night club.
I notice that the town of Ryde is built on a gentle hill – not that gentle for old folk – and that it’s most noticeable land mark on the top of that hill is the spire of The Parish Church which can be seen from miles around and is floodlit at night.
I would like to describe more of the town and its surrounding area but I am unable to move.
A policeman, however, has me pinned down whilst he searches me. I’m not dangerous but he has to do his job. My hands are pinioned behind my back and he informs me that I will be getting up and accompanying them to the station.
I see the second cop standing legs astride with both hands gripping a Taser which is trained on me – I suspect he watches a tad too much American TV. In the background are a police van and a small group of onlookers.
It is at this point that I realise that: I really must… stop masturbating in public.
Bree
- 07.06.2020
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