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 Photo-a-Day      (Friday, 17th August, 2018) Views: 2,223 
Of dust thou art...
 Of dust thou art...   by David Long  (Sony RX10 Mk3)
The demolition of Britannia Bridge School.

Comment by From Where on 17th August 2018 at 00:18
Of dust thou art..
how can we see
the coming silence that will be.
Children's footsteps now there's none , even shadows they too have gone.
Break the walls down, set them free, the children's laughter, nowt left...see.


Comment by Mick on 17th August 2018 at 06:14
Ive sent in a similar photo to PAD Rev, A lad I know who went to the school wanted a brick with a rose on it but I couldnt get near to the knocker downers to ask for one, and from what I could see was that the bricks were all being carefully cleaned up and put on pallets.


Comment by Helen of Troy on 17th August 2018 at 07:37
What a sad end for a building, one wonders why it couldnt be used..they would say it was past its sell by date & usefulness....& the homeless & rough sleepers are still with us, what a waste.


Comment by Veronica on 17th August 2018 at 08:33
I don't know of anywhere else they demolish buildings in the way Wigan does..... It may as well be an old garden shed at the bottom of the garden!


Comment by Anne on 17th August 2018 at 08:44
I enquired about buying certain portions of the brickwork to use as garden ornaments..... no reply/response whatsoever.


Comment by irene roberts on 17th August 2018 at 08:46
This is such a sad photo. Britannia Bridge School, with its lovely red bricks, has been such a landmark over the years. I love old schools and hate to see them demolished. A lady I knew was a teacher here and told me that one of her little infant pupils thought it was called "Pretend you're a Bridge" School!


Comment by DTease on 17th August 2018 at 09:19
First day trepidations, christmas celebrations, triumphs and disaster, tears and laughter. All now consigned to history.


Comment by Alan H on 17th August 2018 at 09:28
My dad went there. He was born in 1902.


Comment by Poet on 17th August 2018 at 09:33
If this coucil ran York, they would demolish The Shambles and put up maisonettes.


Comment by Anne on 17th August 2018 at 09:34
Mick.... no roses anywhere on this school building, maybe there could have been on Rose Bridge shool building. I did a return visit some years ago to enlighten pupils how school was when I began my schooling there.


Comment by Mick on 17th August 2018 at 12:15
Anne I couldnt see any Roses as well but he said this.
I'm hoping to get one of the decorative red terracotta rose bricks from above one of the doorways when I return now that they have started to demolish it but knowing my luck it will be flattened when I get back home! Lol


Comment by Philip G. on 17th August 2018 at 12:37
Gone now, its guiding hands,
And early laughter -
Their 'call' from neighboured path.
The old 'Bridge School had caved
To tempered might, and better-change.
Its naked rooves once ghosts
Of builders' half-built hulls,
Writhing walls of tired doughty fight,
And beaten rails that sped the cracks below.
But better-change,
yet carried thought,
Now guide the pupils flight.


Comment by Anne on 17th August 2018 at 16:12
Mick.... apologies to your friend. I think he could be right about roses. I have looked on google and there does seem to be something quite small over one of the front doors, can't make out what it is. In all the time I attended we never, never entered by either of the front doors always the back. I have entered by the front just the once when I visited a few years ago. He mustn't be be as old as me if he was using front doors.


Comment by Dave on 17th August 2018 at 16:27
We treasure happy memories and experiences . Life does and progress tries to take them away .
We hold onto treasured momentous given to us , then pass them on to relatives or friends who put them no doubt in the attic eventually, no matter how sincere, to end up at a car boot , for someone to buy , someone , who will have no knowledge of the hands who once held them or valued them before ..

Everything is but temporary, a moment is quickly gone, as everything has to be pushed aside by the tractor called progress and the constant movement called life .
The treasured box in all this is our memories, which unlike the moment , we can return to whenever we choose ... and far more importantly , progress cannot touch ..


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