I have visited Brimsdown since about 1950 and worked there since 1964. When I first went there the only way in by Road was over the level crossings at Ordnance Road and Brimsdown Stations. It has always been cut off, different. As a liminal area stretching from the River Lea to dry land it has always been special. The “Catcher” I mention worked in the Enfield Rolling Mills where ingots of copper were rolled and pulled into wire. I saw him on a field trip organised by Enfield Technical College where I was studying Chemistry.
Brimsdown
My only way home was across the line
that ran to the City of gentlemen and money.
I remember a thousand bicycles
eddying around me, held back by gates
as heavy and slow as the locks of the Lee.
One rider was a Catcher.
I had watched him as he stood
by a low steel barrier
holding long and unwieldy tongs.
He wore an overcoat to his boots,
tied with string at the waist.
Thirty foot of luminous, copper rod
shot through a small hole at his feet.
As quick as a mongoose
he caught it by the neck,
snapped it over and around
to flail down a long, iron chute.
He threaded it back through the barrier
to be pulled, to be rolled to wire.
Each day, he risked
a thousand fiery embraces.
He’s no longer there,
the factory with its great crucibles
of flowing, smoking metal gone
in its place… warehouses.
Roads have lanced Brimsdown,
factories and workers bled away.
there are no bicycles,
a new barrier is light and quick to lift.
The line still runs to
the City of gentlemen and money.
© Anthony Fisher July 2007