CAMPING FRIDGE FREEZER

This is a view from Flint Hill mini roundabout and to be honest?…I haven’t got a clue what the closed building on the right was as I’m originally from East Stanley (although I could suss it out if I wanted, but I’m not bothered as I just think it looks lovely). What I like about it, is that it’s ‘Flint Hill’, a place that seems to be getting eradicated by those who live in the fancy houses behind ‘that’ building and The Prince of Wales to the right of it (slightly further on), my mate Stan is one of those who don’t help. There used to be a council estate there once in ‘Flint Hill’, but where my mate Stan has bought his nice new house on some development that got built on the torn down council estate?…it’s now classed as Dipton and the mere mention of living in ‘Flint Hill’ seems to cause some response, like it’s an ugly word. I don’t think it is, I’d be happy to come from ’Flint Hill’, it has a value and makes up another stitch to Stanley’s fabric and beautiful cloth. Reminds me of a little place called No Place, about four streets worth of hamlet on the fringes of Stanley, where my mate Dickie Mint did his papers as a kid, next to nowhere and where some of my relatives live…(the Hodgson’s…on me mam’s side ;)). A few fancy bungalows got built there just as Beamish Museum was starting to ‘take off’ and they thought that ‘they’ could rename the whole place that has a history attached to it, as ‘Co operative Villas’…Glad to say the ‘nopies’ kicked off and No Place still stands. Behind me is the road to Tantobie, to the left you get to mine, straight ahead to Dipton and to the right is where I’ll probably take my final journey…Mountsett Crem. This won’t look like that then, as I’d imagine the streets will be a throng of people 20 deep that have lined these Northern Streets throwing dandelions onto the bonnet of my State led hearse procession, that causes traffic jams at Stanley Roundabout and Asda, as Mam’s worry about ripping up packets of cheesy Wotsits in store for there little darlings to eat strapped to trolleys, with RAF flyovers that rip up the skies doing fancy loops that look like hearts spelt with their vapour trails scribing the skies with a single Red Arrow through, streets will meander like rivers full of tears, that will spoil some young lasses brand new trainers, causing her to faint, a mother will wave a flag made up of a Netto bag and say , “…he was a son of the common people…” and some lad will kiss everyone closely and not so closely connected, stroking tits and cheeks and tell them it’s a travesty full of a dodgy love and later ask, “…does anyone know if he’s put a bus on to the Town?…” as Cheryl Cole who now looks like a sausage in a skin and looks 96 regardless of botox and facelifts, lug pinched, lip crunched, cheek heightened, eyelid fattened, fanny stitched, DJ’s a top Northern Soul gig in Stanley Central Club with out of retirement just for the night, “Wheelchair Slim” who’s still trying to make a career stealing tunes and still doing hard sums from his dad in law Johnny Ball…as Newcastle United play on the full screen 4 nil up against scumderland after 5 minutes…with little Boy Rob “Ex Newcastle and England Captain’ legend comments…and somewhere in the ‘evening news’ the Polar caps are still dying and there’s a new tax on ice cubes from a fridge Durham on Sea is doing well. Polar bears are extinct, we still shit in toilets and water is worth more than cocaine. ATB Folk ;)

My last night in New York, Adam and I found a convenience store so I could grab some water (needing to replace the bottles in the hotel mini-fridge, naturally).

Our backs turned to the counter, I heard someone say, "You sit around here and you spin your little webs and...." which I thought was an odd thing to say to the guy at the counter. I turned around to acknowledge the man speaking as he was quoting my favorite movie. It's not "Raging Bull", Cronenberg or Kurosawa ,which I used to be embarrassed about.

But I'll say it, with no embarrassment or irony: I cocking love Frank Capra!

There.

As I turned to smile at the Jimmy Stewart soundalike, I knew immediately by the looks of this guy that I made a mistake. He was young and he was drunk and he was buying a cheap cigar.

My smile was all the encouragement he needed to begin reciting the entire speech George Baily gave to Mr. Potter after Mr. Potter gave George the cigar.

Adam's smile was frozen as was mine. I began to test him. I fed him the beginning of scenes to see how far he could take it. Damn. He was good. Or annoying. But I went with good. Especially after he said, "I'm sorry. I'm so drunk. The play that I'm in is opening and I'm drunk."

We asked him where he was from (something with a C or a K...or I) and his name was James. He moved to New York to be an actor. If all the roles in every off Broadway play called for a character "with Jimmy Stewart qualities" I'm sure James would not want for a role.

As we walked away, Adam wished James would have known "Back To The Future" Instead. He may have gotten more out of meeting James the drunk actor.