Sometimes when you stand with your feet planted in the ground at one spot you realise how much history there is beneath your feet. I pass this spot every weekend on my way to the Gym, while it’s not picturesque it holds plenty of memories for our family.
My grandfather stood here under the earth mining coal, my grandmother came here to collect his wages, my mother as a child tagged along with her, my father goes to watch the football here and now I stand here too. I’m another link in the chain we’re all here connected through blood and forced apart through time.
Sometimes I wonder how many generations of my family have stood in this same spot, perhaps I’m just one of the many.
I always remember my grandmother’s stories about my granddad; how he had a sixth sense for the mines. Standing in the daylight I can only imagine what a hell it must have been under my feet, in the dark and the heat of the Earth.
Victoria Baker mulls over life and makes hand thrown stoneware pottery in the North East of England. Yeah there’s a person under all that hair.