Mindful of its gloomy history, I have always regarded the quarry with thoughtful apprehension. Despite this, as an older boy I would go fishing for spricks (sticklebacks) in its clouded, enigmatic waters. The spricks were much bigger here and so more desirable.
I was thirteen then and just beginning to take an interest in girls. I had had one girlfriend, Monica Jones, a neighbour’s daughter, with whom, amazingly, I shared a birthday. I think that was all we had in common. Our childish tryst didn’t last.