My Story:

I suppose I should be grateful really, I was given one year to live one year ago and I’m still here, thank GOD. Since my semi-retirement a good few years ago, I’ve been limping along, getting by, just existing really.
It was so long ago now since I came to Leadgate, it seems like another world. Believe it or not, I was quite a sight to behold in my youth, young, strong, full of faith in my future, shining like a new pin, along with my brothers and sisters, God rest their soles.
I was made by the best people, from the best stuff, stout, hardy, reliable, and in my own little industrial way, quite beautiful. Up until my full retirement last year, I didn’t have time to even think about it., too busy getting on with my job.
My job was my life, not that it hasn’t been a good life, standing strong immovable, doing exactly what I was put on this earth to do and doing it well, if I say so myself, groaning and creaking from time to time, but never complaining, not even once.

It’s been a pleasure, carrying you on my shoulders for longer than any living soul can remember. I’ve carried you in prams, by bicycles, charabancs, horses and carts, then buses, in thousands of wedding cars and countless coffins, I’ve carried you to play, to school, to work, to be born and to be buried. I’ve twice carried you to war. Despite all of that and despite the fact I was built in the time of the horse and cart, I think I’ve held up reasonably well. I know I’m no Sydney Harbour or Golden Gate but I was a good bridge in a good place, with good people, no one worked harder than me, at times it was non – stop.

Millions of tons of steel, coal and just about everything else has passed over my back at one time or another, not to mention the countless tons of iron ore dragged beneath me, shaking me to my core for a century or more. It’s amazing I’m still here really, quite the little survivor me!

For a huge part of my life, I had a dark, dangerous, smoky and fiery underside, seldom seen by anyone but train drivers and track workers, not to mention the kids playing the nick from school, then there’s the villains and vagabonds using my shadows for their various skulduggery. I always kept my silence. Then there’s my favorite of all, the hundreds of clandestine courting couples coming into my shadows to do what they were forbidden to do anywhere else. Yes, you know who you are! More than one or two of you have been conceived under my shelter and safety and Yes, I know who you are, I promise I won’t tell.

Sadly, like most old men looking death in the eye, I’m battered and broken, ugly and shoddy, cheap temporary repairs have left me as you all know me today, a mess. My walls smashed from hundreds of collisions, cars, buses, lorries, you name it, it has bashed into me over the years, although this was never a problem when my good friend The Railway was still alive, then I was pampered, even cherished, the slightest knock or loose stone was put right immediately.

Now that he has gone and my other good friend, the road, has gone too, God rest their soles, I just stand here alone, awaiting my ultimate fate. If a bridge could cry, I probably would. So next time you walk or ride your bike under me, stop for just a moment and take a look at me. Look through the grime, the damage, the weeds, and the dodgy repairs; you just might catch the last glimpse of my long-gone magnificence.
I know it’s too late and it’s all over for me, but I just can’t help thinking, after all, I’ve done for you and yours, you should have at least tried to save me. I have stood sentry over all of you for more than a century. I’ve kept you just slightly different from the rest. You don’t realize it now but you will miss me when I’m gone.

Hopefully, Leadgate will keep its character and individuality, but without me, I think that will be very difficult. Not that I’m complaining.

Yours steadfastly,

Leadgate Bridge

1896

A View from a Bridge’ by Mr. G. P. PRATT