I know, as do most of the people who live there, or have lived there, that Middlesbrough is not everyone's idea of paradise, or for that matter, a popular place to go when visiting the north of England. But the fact is that we, those of us born and bred in the "Boro" don't really care. I suppose it's because we have learnt to live with its imperfections. We are not really offended when great authors like George Orwell say nasty things about the place in Keep the Aspadistra Flying or if J. B. Priestley's describes Middlesbrough as a "dismal place even with beer and football". In fact, in my case, it makes me feel a little proud of the town in a weird kind of way. For more nasty remarks on the Boro, see Slagging the Boro.
Middlesbrough was, for many years, the home of one of the world's greatest bridge building companies, the Cleveland Bridge and Engineering Company, which built the Sydney Harbour Bridge. Most of you will have heard of that, right? Middlesbrough is famous for other things too. There was a big scandal over child abuse in the eighties. The first Mayor of the Boro was a German, which is quite unusual, don't you think? Maybe that's why the steel for the new "Riverside Stadium" (it's next to the river) was brought from Germany even though there is a British Steel factory about two miles up the road. Some Boro supporters seem to think the new stadium was built next to the river as it would be convenient for chucking Newcastle supporters in the murky waters of the Tees!
This the Transporter Bridge, the symbol of my town. The box shaped object below the centre of the bridge is actually a kind of container in which cars, motor-bikes, and people are carried. The container is connected to the top of the bridge by heavy cables. There are not many bridges like this in the world -probably because it's about the most inefficient way to get people, cars, buses and other means of transport from one side of a river to the other that you could think of. There is a similar bridge in Bilbao, Spain, believe it or not!. By the way, the name of the river that goes through the Boro is the River Tees.
One of my earliest memories is connected to the Transporter. I remember going to Seaton-Carew in my uncle Billy's side-car. We went over the Transporter, as a kind of treat. Dated? Perhaps, but nowadays kids spend maga-bucks going to Disney World to stand in queues all day. Like wowsy!
The Tees used to be really dirty, now it is only very dirty. However, there have been improvements. Just up the road from the Newport Bridge the Tees Development Authority (I think that's the name) have built what is known as "The Tees Barrage", another landmark in the Boro. It's a kind of dam across the river and separates the upper part of the river, which is relatively clean, from the tidal part of the river which is still quite "mucky" as we say up North. The whole idea was to turn the upper stretches of the Tees into a kind of watery playground for the folk around our part of the world. In fact, there is a white-water course (for canooing and such) built into the barrage. I went for a very pleasant walk along the banks of the Tees from Yarm to Eaglescliff this summer and would recommend it to you if you are ever in that part of the world.
As far as accents are concerned Middlesbrough is caught between the influence of Yorkshire and Durham. The Durham or Geordie accent has the upper hand but you don't have to go too far from the Boro to hear a real Yorkshire accent. Our accent must sound Geordie because when I worked in London they used to affectionately call me a Geordie B.....! Well, what can you expect from a load of Cockney gitts. No, really, some of my best friends are ... . If you want to know more about the accent there is an article by Carmen Llamas about it called MIDDLESBROUGH ENGLISH: CONVERGENT AND DIVERGENT TRENDS IN A ‘PART OF BRITAIN WITH NO IDENTITY’ A suggestive title, eh! Carmen has written others on Middlesbrough English so if you are interested, google her name and see what you come up with!
I went through London not long back. All the way from Heathrow to St. Pancras. It was around five in the afternoon. The tube train was packed. There was no air conditioning so it was boiling inside coupled with wall to wall humanity ... And I thought to myself: "These poor people must do this ten times a week. What a way to spend three hours of your life each day! Just look at some of their faces. I'd rather be on the dole in the Boro than commute to London".