The Cracker

A vast wasteland stands between the two estates. ‘Tibby’ ; it’s cul de sac of residential houses curls around a small playground. Kids push prams with their hands above their heads or zip past on bikes.

Through a narrow alleyway you enter the Cracker ;rolling grass lined with blackberries and stinging nettles. Motorbikes, peds and quads bark loudly everyday and at all times. The boys race them until they burn out, perfecting the art of the wheelie. Horses are usually kept in the back gardens or local stables and are just as popular.

The girls nestle around small fires despite the baking summer sun. On my second trip I discovered an entirely black Cracker, sporting the occasional patch of grass that had escaped a burning.

On the adjacent side lies ‘The Lost City Estate’. Most of the boys meet at Jack Barrett’s bars (a metal fence that lies to the opening of the field). They perch and exchange stories, cigarettes and zoots alight referring to each other affectionately as ‘Mush’

I ‘m drawn to this area for its insular community. Everyone knows each other and the name ‘The Lost City’ derives from an obvious observation. These people feel forgotten. With no entertainment, a limited youth service and a lack of role models these young people do feel lost. The police battle against them. I want to explore the friendships, the unique language and tradition of the area and the characters that for me; should not be lost or ignored.