The bard celebrates two other fine practitioners of the art, and laments a lost brewer
Last Man to Leave the Ice Factory
Lisa Kelly
Ice was no chin-chin thing to keep a drink cold;
ice was business, titanic big, tonnes crushed
for the trawlers to keep fish fresh in the hold
tides away from land. Now machines are hushed;
then, up at four we were, 20 waggons waiting
for 20 tonnes of ice each. You’d eat off the floor
it was so polished. Pans of water chilled in a freezing
pool of brine, sliding out in slabs. No more;
SETH SANDRONSKY recommends a production that looks back at the political Tinseltown in the mid-1970s when US cinema ‘didn’t pander to trends’
ALAN MORRISON recommends a consummate, heart-warming collection about a working-class upbringing in the industrial north-east
Warming up for his Durham gig, the bard pays attention to the niceties of language
by Widad Nabi


