Northwich Park campus transmitter.
A closer view.
Whilst no longer operational, the nearer one is to it, the more likely one is to enter its Zone of Interference. To do so is to experience first-hand the stranger signals which intermittantly punctuate and interrupt the pedestrian radio transmissions by which the inhabitants of the Horsingdon Triangle daily try to secure and reaffirm the comforting conceptual order of their world.
This ia an order they mistakenly believe takes precedence over the fundamental tumult and disarray of things; a disarray which constitues what Spare once described as 'the chaos of the normal': whispering echoes of the titanic shapes wallowing in the silted darkness of those infinite void-seas which press against our own small corner of the cosmos; reverberations of the lurch, pitch and keel of alien monoliths cast adrift upon the oceans of space-time - mindlessly buffeted by the star-winds across the gulfs which separate galaxies - until they edge past our solar system; the murmurings of Those Who Wait as they writhe restlessly beneath the Horsingdon landscape in an epochal, dreamless, deathless sleep; the white noise of Northwich and Horsingdon's pre-palaeolithic and pre-linguistic ghosts, muttering in inconceivable, gutteral modes of communication that predate the human cognitive revolution of seventy milennia past; the silent howl of a horned, winged and faceless thing that squats upon the gravestone of a witch who was hanged 200 years ago, and buried in unhallowed ground in the churchyard of St. Ormund's.