Post Cod War Blues Part One by Terry Ireland - Photographs by Roland Standaert

St Andrews fish dock has been long closed down for theres barely a fleet to sail from the town the old lock gates where the trawlers queued to land for the markets are no longer used a metalled road runs over the lock and no water runs between river and dock buildings are tumbled or razed to the ground and its quiet and eerie with only the sounds of the water and wind and shrieks of the gulls this Sunday morning in the old docks of Hull its forlorn and deserted and so cold and bleak Ill cuddle the fire for the rest of the week but I need to watch it as it finally goes I need to remember so my kids will know theyve filled one dock in with mud and sand theres probably a subsidy for reclaiming land and thrown up warehouses and the usual shops to erase our past so one history stops theres a bowling alley to practice ten-pin and as much fast food as you can cram in this is the future and its brash and its bold this is the era of grab all you can hold. its taken my city and torn out its soul for theres no pride in claiming the dole they say this is progress and progress is all so bugger the memories of those on the Gaul and bugger the hardships and bugger the pain and bugger the families wholl never see again the pride and the swagger of the trawler wage earner or the newly wise eyes of the young deckie learner theres no more last beers and fast taxi rides to jump from the lock as she sails with the tide now its heaven bless the poor and heaven bless the sick and heaven bless the slow and heaven bless the thick and heaven bless those with their backs to the wall whilst for the few winners its bugger you all