GORDON PARSONS appreciates fine performances and a feel for ambiguity, but misses the music of the dialogue
Cromwell Avenue
Hannah Tuson
What happened to all the locals? They've been ripped out
like everything else, haven't they? Like Cromwell Avenue, for
the 21st century, for stainless steel kitchens with Formica tops.
I'll never forget those council officers poking round our lounge
whilst we were having dinner, and in a matter of days, with their
word of God, home was a slum for the bulldozer's teeth, replaced
by a high rise where no one called round for a cup of tea, that
made us take pills and jump from the windows. Something bad
by Mike Jenkins
The bard invites readers to a gig, raps for Clacton, and lays out the Burnham-Hurzeler conundrum
by Rosie Jackson
ALAN MORRISON recommends a consummate, heart-warming collection about a working-class upbringing in the industrial north-east


