One sentence. Friday 25th April 2025.

Today’s sentence:

“The jostle stone stood mute to passersby, sentinel to the forgotten gateway of the silent workshop, which echoed no more with the ancient blacksmith’s song.”

How did I arrive at the sentence above?
While passing Collins Barracks, Cork this morning, I noticed a fine jostle stone standing guard where someone, or something, has breached a massive hole into a section of the wall. The plywood shuttering is fairly new, the stone is very old. A jostle stone or chasse-roue (wheel chaser) was an innovation born of necessity in a time when trade in towns and cities relied on horse and cart. They were often placed at the entrace to gateways into courtyards or at the corners of buildings on narrow streets, to protect the stone work from the passing wheels. A sacrificial stone for commerce.

The jostle stone tells us that there was likely a gateway here once. I love looking out for jostle stones in my travels and it’s remarkable how many have survied within our urban landscapes today. Large ones, such as the example at Collins Barracks, are fairly rare to see. Normally, they are much more unobtrusive, and I suspect that’s the only reason many of them are still with us. They’re not in the way; because if they were, they would have been ripped out, cast aside like so many other historical remnants by the vandals of profit.

They tell a tale of a different time.

I like to imagine what they might have been mute witnesses to; for many great tales begin at hidden gateways, around strange corners, and down old streets where footsteps echo at midnight.

The sentence lodged for later use as:

• “The jostle stone stood silent to passing coaches, forgotten gateway to the ancient workshop.”

It evolved as:

• “The jostle stone stood mute to passing coaches, forgotten gateway to the ancient workshop which echoed no more to the blacksmith’s song.”
• “The jostle stone was mute to passing coaches, sentinel to the forgotten gateway of the silent workshop, which echoed no more to the ancient blacksmith’s song.”
• “The jostle stone stood mute to passing coaches, sentinel to the forgotten gateway of the silent workshop, which echoed no more with the ancient blacksmith’s song.”
• “The jostle stone stood mute to passersby, sentinel to the forgotten gateway of the silent workshop, which echoed no more with the ancient blacksmith’s song.”