/ East Croydon Castle
The train waits, hissing. East Croydon. This is East Croydon. Eyes half-closed I look out the window and see the ruins of a castle. How? Surely not, not in East Croydon. But there it is. Weather-beaten stone keep, square ramparts, slit windows overlooking the station platform. The render is gone from the walls, centuries ago perhaps, and each round brown cobble is exposed to the elements. I had no idea, such an ancient building, these ruins next to rows of patchwork terraces, the glass apartment complex, the high street. So strange, and right by the train tracks too, the square turret and window slits, those roughhewn sills. But nothing lasts forever, and even now, as the train pulls away, I watch as the castle walls flutter in the breeze, ivy on an office block.