After that day, we moved on. We never went back, the palace moved to Sydenham. We still met up, we still had fun. The palace drew the people, ‘till it was burnt down.
There’s still sphynxes on stone plinths and they look out for us. And the steps we would have walked up mark the space around us.
There were other years, other exhibitions. We travelled the world, we always ended up at the head of Joe Paxton.
They built dinosaurs in the park. At least they thought they had, they were wrong. Exciting and magical, made of cement, the former just like you were the day we met.