hellingly | the gt hine lock-in

The guard walked back to the hole in the fence, brandishing a long length of rusty metal banding. He lashed the two parts of the fence together, roughly securing the panels with multiple twists, until the hole was less obvious.

It wouldn’t do of course. Such temporary measures would quickly be undone, and he knew it. The vandals and thrill seekers and arsonists and drunks and druggies and dropouts would be in like a flash; and would probably throw the flimsy metal band through a glass window.

He walked off, anti-clockwise, around the site, to get something more permanent.

(Left: The rooms downstairs are dark and treacherous. With the ground floor windows all boarded up, it’s difficult to navigate and requires torches. We gave up on this route since it was just getting far too dark, and we weren’t heading in the right direction).