I don’t think it was a working day when I photographed this security mirror outside the Bingham’s factory on Western Road. I didn’t notice what appears to be a black clothed figure bending near one of the white doors until I looked at the picture several months after taking it. He could have been caught in the act of locking up, or he might be bending to pick up something he has dropped. I can’t be entirely certain that it is a person, rather than a primarily dark coloured smudge of unknown provenance. I arrive at the conclusion that it is a representation of humanity on the grounds of probability.
Bingham’s prides itself on the quality of its potted meats but one might question this position if like me you had witnessed the sight of bone laden open trucks making their way to the factory in the 1990s or been subjected to the stench associated with the alchemy of meat processing. I haven’t seen one of those hideous death wagons for many years, although I presume that deliveries have continued apace. Maybe they have taken to some form of concealment, in recognition of the changing sensibilities of the local populace over the decades. It’s something of a wonder that such a thing as meat paste still exists. I’m increasingly convinced that it won’t be around for much longer.
Sheffield Patrol Group 