Zero Hour

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Well, I woke up early this afternoon, what with my new found sedentary lifestyle, and decided that I was going to take the opportunity to get out there - it was a nice afternoon so I thought I'd take the camera and take the final opportunity to get some shots of the Tinsley Towers before they came down for good. Seems lots of people had the same idea. I've never seen so many people with cameras out and about at one time - that's including the viewing park at Manchester Airport.

No sooner do I pull up at a picturesque parking place, than out of nowhere (probably hiding behind trees and parked cars waiting for me to come along. It would be in keeping with the past few weeks) appear a load of photographers of all sorts. Happy snappers, digicam users and a surprising number who labour under the weight of their Canon and Nikon super death turbo DSLR XL models. Like me I suppose.

So there's not much more to say at this stage except it looks like the entire city is coming out to watch over the towers in their last hours. Which I suppose is only fair, as they've watched over the city for 70 years.

I'm going to get something to eat, enjoy the photos.

11:52PM

Well, I've had a fairly non-active evening in, just babysitting the house. I've got my camera stuff ready and we hope to be setting off in about 40 minutes. So, I've got to see if I can wrestle my camera into taking good night photos, and hopefully the results will be good.
Well, all the results apart from the one: When I come back the towers will be gone for ever, and the landscape will have changed completely.
Let's hope we can get used to it, let's hope we can give them a good sendoff.

06:01AM

Right. God, where to start. A cup of tea, that's where I'm going to start. Be right back.

06:24AM

I still don't feel any better.

Right. After a while of getting my camera gear ready, I decided to forego the nap and stayed up ready to be collected. Eventually the time came, and lugging two tripods and my camera bag, my sister, my nephew and I set off.

After a quick detour via McDonalds, we joined in the local traffic, which already heavy for that time of night, grew heavier as we approached the vantage point that I picked earlier. Once we got there, noticing that traffic was insane, I managed to get myself through the tangle of photographers and hyper kids. After being moved on by one militant snotty woman who wanted to take unobstructed photos (with her tacky lil plastic fantastic - camera snobbery? She should have just sodded off home and bought the photos from me - just kidding!), we eventually managed to find a place on some ratty scrubland overlooking the towers, and I set up shop. 2 tripods, 2 cameras. I fired a few test shots, as well as a few more, and then some more later on, checking as if to make sure that the camera hadn't sneakily changed its settings while I'd not been looking.

Over time, the place began to fill up - this is some scrubby wasteland in the middle of a not-very-populated area of the town, and it was an absolute hive of activitiy, with kids running about, drunken yoofs stumbling about, and photographers and suchlike behind their cameras, binoculars, spotting scopes, portable radar, electronic signalling thumbs etc, and so we waited.

Before long the hillside was heaving, well over a thousand people easily, staring at the towers through their viewfinders, glasses, all waiting expectantly for the big moment.

The rain started, the rain stopped, I got heckled by a couple of loony young women who couldn't keep themselves to themselves (nooo, not in that way), and still we waited.

Finally, as if in expectation, the already light breeze disappeared, I glanced at my watch. 2:57AM.

On the very edge of hearing, quiet enough to ask an observer if I was imagining it, a klaxon sounded in the distance, and the crowd grew quiet. The claxon guy, feeling he'd done his bit and he wanted a cup of tea, fell silent. And we waited.

Slowly, almost imperceptibly at first the right (south) tower began to fall, and from the distance, came the boom of an explosion. Not loud, but low enough to be felt as well as heard. The south tower continued earthwards, towards destruction, to stand watch over the city no more. The north tower began to fall, surrounded by the dust of its fallen partner of 70 years, as a second explosion pounded across the landscape, both towers now, spiralling into nothingness.

The south tower, almost completely gone now, collapsed in on itself, as the last of its strength gave out and the final hundred feet or so fell into dust.

And then the north tower did something odd. It corkscrewed. I don't remember the exact motion, but almost in slow motion, I watched as the top of the tower bent around the center, until through the clouds of dust, I could see past the rim of the tower into its inside. The top came down, falling not vertically, but diagonally, and then all was lost in clouds.

The clouds dissipated somewhat, and standing there, against all expectation, was the center of the south tower, defiantly standing, after a fashion but still standing, above the motorway. Through the dust and debris, we stared, at the tower seemingly resting against the top deck of the viaduct. A worst case scenario, really?

The dust cleared. Of the south tower, nothing remained. but the north, still standing proudly almost, seemingly against the viaduct, a last act of retribution against E.ON, poetic justice it seemed, to a degree at least.

Eventually, after going and having a chat with my brother and his fiancee who were also there, we managed to work our way through the complete gridlock, and managed to turn around to head to where we were going. Had the tower really fallen against the motorway? I was elated. Many people had described the demolition of the towers as a crime. Was this their punishment? We were off to find out. Already, the radio was commenting that the towers hadn't come down according to plan, and they would bring us more news as they had it. In the meantime, would we like some music? "I'm Still Standing", by Elton John. Laughing and joking, with our windows down and the radio up, we disappeared into the countryside.

Eventually we arrived at the hillside, looking down onto where the towers stood. Less remained now, and as we watched, brave men and their machines were working hard to remove the remaining structure. Brave? I might have been against the whole thing, but these men were doing their jobs, and from what we could see as a tracked JCB poked at the shell of the south tower, much in the way an insect tries to sink its teeth into you or I, they were putting their safety at risk. A tall ruined spire of concrete, maybe half the tower's original height still stood tall, and these men in their JCB's, looking, well, insectlike in scale, were doing their best to bring it down to ground level. And still, even on the south tower, many of the concrete supports stood proud, doing their job, even though they no longer had anything to support.

E.ON were being tight lipped, saying only that there had been an "unexpected development". The Highways Agency were even more reluctant to talk, according to one radio reporter, "he walked away shouting 'no comment'".

We watched for a time as little by little, the remaining shell came down, and it began to rain, over a different landscape.

A somewhat emptier landscape, I feel.

Obviously, I'm upset about the demolition of the towers. Concrete and steel is all they may be, but the value we place on a building is more than the value of its components. Is your home only bricks and mortar? Those towers were part of Sheffield's heritage, a part that is now gone forever.

Am I going to tear myself up about it? Moaning that they're gone, that we weren't given a say? Or am I going to look back and laugh, and see that concrete spire as one giant middle finger weighing hundreds of tons and pointed squarely at E.ON, as the tower proclaims "I have the last laugh!"

I think I'll try to feel good about it. :)

But I'll do it after I've been to bed. It's 7am, I've been up 16 hours.

Video of the demolition (not mine)

BBC News article on the demolition

"How is a cooling tower demolished"

Finally, here's one I found earlier. These guys actually climbed the north tower and took photos from inside it. You wouldn't bloody get me up there.

And really finally now - you may notice that this entry gets a little emotional or dramatic in places. Blame Radio Sheffield. Just as rousing speeches and glorious hymns (i'm not religious) are most effective and dramatic when set to music, the right (or wrong) music can make all the difference when writing. It was Radio Sheffield's fault for playing a rather sad piece of music just at the bit where I really didn't need it.