It came as no surprise when they raised the bridge, and it stuck in the upright position. After years of neglect and the council crossing their fingers hoping for the best, the bridge stayed up.
The rust had become so bad there was a call for major refurbishment as the neighbours to the bridge had been complaining for years about the squeaking it made when being opened and closed.
All along the river, the old bridges had been taken down, and this one in our town was the last mainly because someone thought it a good idea to leave it as a relic of the past.
The inconvenience was profound. Priceless Joy the convener of the “Aspiring Writers’ Association was stuck on one side of the town unable to get home from the doctor and so had to ring her friend Joe to take over while she navigated her way home.
As it was everyone considered, an eyesore.