Rebuilding No. 18 Park Terrace

Rebuilding No. 18 Park Terrace A building is a ship, sailingnot through space but timewe’ll patch this old girl upre-roofing, floating beams acrossthe chasms, re-plastering cornicesthe sweet smell of fresh paintour hands haunted by echoesof those first men in apronswaistcoats and bunnetswho under barking ordersof gentlemen architect and masonbuilt a new Athens in the skysinging at the centre of empirethe view from this hill thenstill of green surrounding fieldson days when the smog cleared. Well-to-do merchantsshipping magnates stinking richthen seventies students ten to a roombefore the fire. Each only passengersas we are. But the expressions onthe carved lion’s faces steal our breathin the wintery air on the scaffold(waiting two centuries for their close-up)their author a humble craftsmancasually, anonymously: leaving beautyfor us to find. Douglas Thompson