I grew up playing in the cobbled streets and back lanes of a small shipyard town on Tyneside in the 70s. Cranes dominated the skyline while horns, hooters and clanking metal provided the soundtrack. At the change of shifts, workers would stream through the streets with black and white striped haversacks draped over their shoulders and worn-out expressions over their grimy faces. The town was fiercely proud of the yard’s history, where it had built the most impressive and important ships the world had ever seen. But over the years, the industry declined as the work was sold off abroad until, sadly, it was all gone. I wanted to write a story that shone a light on these workers, their families and the town who had sweated and slogged, with so much skill, experience, warmth and pride. I hope I have done them justice.
