26/08/2026
A poem & some random Fish Quay related photos.
AS THE LIGHT GOES DOWN
As the light goes down on canny `Shields
a young lad kicks a can down Brewhouse Bank,
an old man sups another pint,
a cold wind sweeps across the Groyne.
There is change afoot where herring girls
prepared the catch, a haul of silver darlings
for the hungry Tyne Brand cans, an east coast
catch for appetites across the world.
Where fish merchants plied their briny trade,
where trawler men hung tired nets, now only
the hum of cosy, confidential conversations,
the clatter of coffee cups, only the whiff
of sizzling battered cod compete with the comings
and goings of the pared down North Sea fleet,
and the timeless cry of greedy gulls.
