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Fifers Lane

Visited Fifers Lane and thought it gone, new over planted with yellow box rows the Naafi looks away from residences stood down. Through the East entrance towards B block, but it welcomes no more, across once a pitch to a dead green-end, in the shade of old brick. Overgrown and dormant, at half turn-around, G block, in a clearing, in exile, awaits. F and H in loyal attend, shuttered with limestone paloured wood, the curved mantle of concrete door frames still fresh brilliant white under black etched capital names. Withdrawing but drawn we turned back and discover. Z block, shrouded and quiet, consumed in many remembered sleep, no glass now only peeled boards. 'Private, University Residences' still fresh on gloss blue doors. Airways diner, open in the rain, timeless and empty, closing early at 11.45 am (Saturday). P block watched, annexed and alone, haunted still. Landlocked with ivy deep walls the first floor windows gape. And a hole in the fence.