Gateshead town centre has faced brutality since the 60s.
Much of the 60s improvements have recently been demolished, with 21st Century developments taking their place.
However, remnants of an earlier era remain. Not for long, though.
Gateshead High Street hasn’t been much of a high street for a long time, but one must question why it’s been allowed to fall into its current state of virtual dereliction.
Now, I’m aware of the long term plan for the high street, but I can’t understand why restoration gave way to demolition.
We’re now left with a town centre which is effectively a Tesco supermarket. Without doubt, this will one day go the same way as its 60/70s predecessor. It’s more brutal than the former brutalist buildings.
A few years ago, I compared the high street to a mouth made up of decayed teeth. It’s now virtually toothless.
With another extraction in progress.
It’s probably time to rename Durham Road. New Gateshead High Street.
My first watch arrived via Green Shield Stamps; I’d have been around five years old. I recall that, at that age, I had a vague conception of time, but was unable to consistently tie my shoelaces.
It was a Timex watch, with a white face and a black leather strap. Something like this one (found on eBay), although I don’t recall it being water resistant.
Anyway, the watch had a short life. I remember falling down the stairs in an attempt to fly (I’d had recurring dreams involving flights down the stairs. These always involved a safe take-off and landing). The face of the watch cracked in the way a watch face cracks on impact at the bottom of a flight of stairs.
I was probably around six years old when we’d accumulated enough Green Shield Stamps to acquire another (identical) timepiece.
This watch had a longer life, a couple of years or more. The strap wore out though, so a replacement was needed.
My grandmother (paternal) bought a new strap. It was beautiful. I chose it myself. Silver leather rather as opposed to the original black. Hong Kong 1960s fashion at its best.
After a couple of weeks, the silver finish had worn off, leaving a muddy brown strap. I remember feeling regret that I’d not opted for a more sympathetic replacement.
There’s a point to this. On the right of the picture below; the watch shop where the strap was purchased in 1968. In Auckland.
A dozen or more years ago, I found an old enamel sign, buried in the garden. It’d had a hard life and parts had rusted away. But it’s still a cool thing and would have originally been fixed to the front wall of the house, in the days of its life as a shop.
For a while, the sign was hung at the top of the stairs, but redecoration resulted in its retirement to a dusty corner.
However, As of today, it now sits proudly in the bathroom.
The sign originally advertised a daily newspaper, News Chronicle. This went bust in the 1930s, so the sign’s most likely from the early 1900s. Beamish museum has a more complete version.
I’d imagine that it was relegated to the garden in the early 60s, when the shop moved from its long time newsagent role to one of general dealer.