We arrived in Holywell Lake during the heaviest rain. It was Remembrance Sunday and nothing was open. We found a crumpled paper poppy in the gutter. We found a crumpled paper poppy in the guitar. Torrents of water ran down the hill. The car windows misted up and we kept the windscreen wipers and heaters on. I was reminded of doomed childhood holidays and waiting for the rain to clear.
We started to film and collect sounds, the rain falling down the drain, the water splashing on corrugated plastic roofs, a cheap set of wind chimes clinking in the wind. I was thinking of repetition again and the type of downpour that never stops.
I thought of home and the days when you are happy that you never have to go outside, but we weren’t home, we were just passing through. I tried to make something warm amongst the cold. I sheltered in a covered part of the pub garden. Holywell Lake tinkled and pulsed in the background.
Imogen Griffiths did the filming on this video.