A return trip to Battersea. Thrown together in a lastminute.com fashion. I arrived. So did the others. I had brought the medium format. The Bronny. I wanted to shoot the place on film. It turned out to be a larger excursion but we thought we’d still go in the same way and we did. Quickly – trying not to let the heras rattle.

Once inside we noticed there was something wrong. There was noise in the usually silent structure. We walked over to the ledge and peered down into the turbine hall. There was a truck parked there and men working. Do we continue? We had too. The hardest part was past but it is hard to make a little noise when there are quite so many of you and its a space in which the smallest noise carries.

We ascended to Control Room A by the usual route and took our time to take shots. Onwards to the roof. I wasn’t going to climb the chimney on such a cold night. My hands were already frozen and I hadn’t brought my gloves with me. Patch, Dave and Nebby carried two long ropes up to the base of the white chimney. Four of us stood on the roof and waited. There was a crack as the ropes hit the deck. It was ear splitting and terrifying.

Slowly three figures descended over the scaff and down the long rope. The rope was pulled down and rescues and we headed back towards the stairs. The boys at the top had seen sec walk past the corner of the building. We descended the stairs and thought we had heard people talking. There it was again. Had we been seen? Had we been heard? Were we busted? No! It was two other explorers.

We all headed to Control Room A and chewed the fat. I was so cold. We had to leave. A decision was made that it wasn’t worth trying for B Side tonight. Not with the men working in the hall. Another night. The station wasn’t going anywhere.

We down-climbed our way to the ground floor and hid in the shadows. My finger tips were numb and I was glad we were leaving. The call was made. Run through the herras and head towards the fence. Just run. We did. We knew the direction to head in and we moved swiftly, yet as we approached the fence, I heard someone shout ‘RUN!’ and then another strange voice shouted ‘Oi!’.

That was all I needed to hear. I pulled the tripod close and gave it everything I had. To the heras and slide under it, to the hoarding and up the beams. Bag on my back and tripod thrown over after me. Back out the way we have come. Were we all there? Yes.

How close were we? Ali was last over and he believed that he had been a mere ten metres away from the hoarding as we cleared it. ‘No time for tea and cakes’ was the cry as we leapt into cars and sped away into the night.

There was a rendezvous a short while later at a safe distance where passengers were exchanged and details shared. That was all a bit too close.