I’m sure I’m not the first to have noticed that almost without exception behind every canal-side factory building, shoe-horned in between the back wall and the canal, there’s someone’s little piece of heaven; consisting of a tatty chair or two, a couple of wooden crates or an occasional makeshift table.
Workers on tea breaks; the odd angler; the starers musing at what fate has thrown their way; the romantics and the poets; the dreamers, the escapees and the seekers after a moment or two’s silence; they’re all there, staring into the canal over a mug as you pass.
Some speak, some jeer, some smile or wave, or simply accept you as a periferal part of a familiar tableau played out daily in front of them on their own very small piece of canal.
Again, I’m sure I’m not the first to do this, but I’m going to photograph them. Here’s a couple I caught below Banbury Town Lock last weekend…