Celebrating Change

ALT Stockton through my ages The old market town we visited by bus Stalls full of fresh fruit, vegetables, flowers and more importantly sweets The sickly, overpowering, wonderful chocolate smell The sneaky ice-cream in the sunshine Cold and sticky running down your arm and you just have to lick it off The noise of people, laughing, working and living life Getting the bus home The town we visited by bus. by night Food in El Greco’s or Borgia’s The smell of a different type of food than usual Now a drunken night starts Falling down the stairs, breaking your stiletto heal Meeting new people Laughing, singing and having no cares or responsibilities Getting the bus home No bus, no ice-cream, no drunken nights out Visit by car Notice the old versus the new The haves versus the have not’s The closed stores of Debenhams and Marks The graves once visited with flowers were now only beer cans lay What would Robert Bayson think about that? Nothing stays the same New life and hope shines through Wi

ALT The fountains rise up showing so much hope, How high can they go? Children splish, splashing, screams of glee Cars travelling on streets that held the market stalls People bringing their wares to sell Hoping to make enough to feed their families Theatres of old closed and then like a phoenix rising Re-opened as something new to entertain the crowds Dancing, singing, laughing Architecture shining out above the dreary modern shops Bodies moved from the graveyard leaving their headstones behind Making way for druggies and drunks The river sees it all

ALT Windows Stand in the fountain square, Windows surround you. Empty spaces stare back. Eyes follow as you turn. Behind the windows, Lives are lived. Times change So windows change. Patterns come and go Reflecting out life lived here and now. But find the clues to know past days And over time begin to learn their ways. See lintels, brickwork, plastic, paint. Stately grids arched with stone. An iron balcony for the view. Aluminium screaming brutal lines. Humble frames standing cased in wood. Stone pillars grand and haughty Making boastful shows of wealth. Variety abounds, no buildings look the same. Unique as the people, Reflections of history. You can’t forget those eyes which see And wonder who you are meant to be.

ALT High angle shot of Stockton High Street fountains and grassy seating area, showing the town hall building and the road towards ARC

ALT A white butch lesbian with a high blonde quiff and shaved sides sits with her hand covering her mouth in thought. She is sharply dressed in a black and white houndstooth checked jacket and waistcoat with maroon silk tie and pocket handkerchief.

ALT Two older women with short white hair and an older man on a mobility scooter are in a park, looking up at the trees and trying to identify their species. They hold notebooks, ready to write poetry about nature. The sun is hot and bright through the trees, like an Impressionist painting

ALT A line of concrete seating blocks forms a diagonal into the distance, interspersed with neat, civic trees. On each block there is a person perched, writing in a notebook. A man with glasses and cropped grey hair, a woman with long wavy auburn hair, both using their crossed legs as a table to rest on.

ALT Chrissie Petrie (small, plump white woman with cropped hair wearing black jeans, T-shirt and sunglasses) is chatting to Fiona (tall, slim white women with short blonde hair wearing a yellow patterned sleeveless summer top and denim shorts). They are both carrying notebooks and laughing.

ALT The group enters the park - figures of people are walking away from the camera, and in one case trundling away on a mobility scooter. Everyone is kitted out with little backpacks. The sun is shining, the sky is blue with small white clouds, and the green trees and grass are inviting.