It’s a dreary February morning in Britain, the kind where the sky looks like it’s been painted with dishwater. I’m trudging through the slush, cursing the very existence of this godforsaken month, ...
Consett is about to become the stage for a right old dust-up over some houses. And not just any houses, mind you, but 71 of the buggers on what used to be a steelworks. Because nothing says “prime ...