Skye Edge – the metaphor

I arrived early at Skye Edge for rehearsals and took myself off for a walk. I passed a burnt patch of ground, scorched machine parts glistening.

To either side of me the world falls away, and Sheffield unfolds with stadiums, high rises, trams. Up here quad bikes buzz, children play football, pigeons swoop.










But there is something about the place. A beautiful field of wild flowers strewn with bits of a plastic hold-all. The whole Edge is a metaphor. I just haven’t figured out what for.

I head to the Community Centre, which is so tightly bound with fences and security shutters that I hope I’m here when the zombie apocalypse comes.

Our three giggling, bantering stars for the evening arrive and we begin.


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