Author Archives: John Kerridge

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About John Kerridge

I have a camera, drink tea and trip on untied shoe​ laces.

George Short

In my early political days, I had the good fortune to cross paths with people of remarkable conviction—individuals whose beliefs weren’t just ideas they carried, but the very compass that guided their lives. Among them was one man who left a lasting impression on me: George Short. He was more than just a politician; he was a living example of what it meant to stand firm in the face of hardship, to believe in something so deeply that no setback could shake it.

George had a way of cutting through noise and doubt, speaking with a clarity that came from both experience and an unshakable moral core. He lived his politics, not as a hobby or a passing phase, but as a lifelong commitment. I often think about how much I learned from him—not just about politics, but about courage, endurance, and the importance of staying true to one’s principles. People like George Short deserve to be remembered—not simply for what they did, but for the integrity and fire they carried into everything they fought for.

George Short was born in 1900 in the tough mining village of High Spen, County Durham. At just 14, he went down the pit, joining the ranks of thousands who worked the coal seams. But he was never content simply to endure harsh conditions — by the time of the great miners’ strikes of 1921 and 1926, Short was an active organiser. His role in those struggles cost him dearly: blacklisted from the coal industry, he would never work underground again.

Determined to keep fighting for workers’ rights, he served as a delegate to the Labour Representation Committee before joining the Communist Party in 1926 — a commitment that would define the rest of his life. By 1929, he was elected to the Party’s Central Committee, and years later he would serve on its Appeals Committee.

In 1930, Short travelled to Moscow, spending a year at the Lenin School and another working for the Comintern, even becoming a member of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union. When he returned to Britain, he threw himself into building the Communist Party and leading the unemployed workers’ movement. His activism came at a cost: three months in prison, after insisting on the right to hold meetings at Stockton Cross.

The 1930s also saw him at the forefront of the anti-fascist struggle. After Japan’s invasion of Manchuria, he was instrumental in blocking the Haruma Mara from leaving Middlesbrough dock with scrap metal bound for Japan’s war effort. He helped stop the Blackshirts from marching through Stockton-on-Tees and took on the vital task of organising recruitment for the International Brigade in Spain.

After the war, Short remained committed to the cause of peace, supporting the Campaign for Nuclear Disarmament and, in later years, joining the re-established Communist Party of Britain. As President of the Teesside Pensioners Association, he launched a successful campaign for free concessionary travel for retirees — a victory felt by thousands.

George Short lived to the age of 94, passing away in 1994. His life was one of unbroken dedication to the struggles of working people, from the pit villages of County Durham to the global fight against fascism.

We need more Georges in our world today—voices of courage, hearts of steel, and a belief that change is worth fighting for.


Being Here: Barbara Walker, The Arnolfini, Bristol until 25 May 2025.

Barbara Walker’s new exhibition at Arnolfini is a sustained, courageous interrogation of memory, belonging and the politics of refusal. Across drawing, painting and large-scale installations, Walker refuses easy reconciliation — instead staging encounters that demand attention. Her mark-making is urgent and precise; her visual language reinventive, at once poetic and forensic. The works trace personal and communal histories, showing how identity is made and unmade by social forces.

Seen through the prism of the Windrush scandal, Walker’s exhibition acquires an added urgency. The show does not only document injustice; it amplifies the voices and experiences that policies have tried to erase. Walker’s art testifies to the human consequences of bureaucratic neglect and racialized exclusion, yet it is never merely documentary. It is also a celebration of resilience, a repository of memory, and a space for imagining reparative futures.

Visitors will find themselves moved by the emotional honesty of the pieces, provoked by the political questions they raise, and held by an aesthetic intelligence that balances grief with profound hope. This is essential work for our times — an exhibition that asks us to see more clearly, to remember more faithfully, and to act more justly.

Royal Iris

The Royal Iris, originally named MV Mountwood, was constructed in 1950-1951 by William Denny and Brothers Shipbuilders in Dumbarton, Scotland.

Commissioned by the Wallasey Corporation to serve as a passenger ferry for the Mersey Ferry service, operating between Liverpool and the Wirral Peninsula.

First of its kind, being the first non-steam powered ferry to operate on the Mersey River. The Royal Iris was powered by diesel engines and had a capacity of over 2,000 passengers. Its sleek and modern design, with strong Art Deco influences, made it an iconic vessel of its time.

Serving as a passenger ferry for several decades, she became known for her comfortable seating, spacious decks, and panoramic windows that offered stunning views of the Mersey River. In addition to its regular passenger service, the Royal Iris also played a significant role in the music scene of Liverpool. In the 1960s, it became a popular venue for rock and roll concerts, hosting performances by well-known bands such as The Beatles, The Who, and Jerry Lee Lewis. These events, known as the “Riverboat Shuffles,” attracted large crowds and contributed to the vessel’s cultural significance.

However, as the years went by, the Royal Iris started facing financial challenges and was eventually decommissioned in 1991.

Although plans were made to convert the ferry into a floating entertainment venue, they did not materialize, and the Royal Iris fell into disrepair. Today, she rests on the banks of the River Thames near the Thames Barrier in London.