Bank holiday Tuesday 31/8/04 afternoon in (Stroke) Derry

I still haven’t done any real interviews; it’s been gleanings and talking withs and ear-wiggings. It was now halfway through the scheme and I began to worry that if I did a what was it like when…? and what is it like now? it would be less my input and reaction as an observer and more a quasi-reminiscence project. Added to that, having built fifteen years of life on poetry, I’m struggling to put it all in prose. So I went off to do a couple of interviews on spec.

But first the postings up on www.sluggerotoole.com and davewoodinireland.blogspot.com as well as sending my missives (or missus-ives) to incwriters. It had been a while since I registered in Belfast as a new library member, so the pin-number had given up on me. It was soon rectified. The library service in Northern Ireland is bang up to date and incredibly helpful. It’s a service industry that’s an absolute essential in dissemination of information and I suspect Northern Ireland had been lacking an open-ness in this for quite a while. There’s also a strong tradition of the love of literature (then there’s also a strong tradition of the love of Guinness. But wait, I haven’t finished yet.

So postings up, I’ve got five minutes left. I type in the search bar Pictures of Derry. I get back…You have been blocked by the marshal from entering this site. Excuse the paraphrasing but it still threw me. I confessed and pronto.

Well, if you’re looking for pictures of Derry, began the male librarian, you can go into the Derry City Council link Site ane he began a hamfisted search.

It doesn’t matter really, I said, and explained the situation.

Well, if you get something like that, we can’t do anything about it here…he continued. I gave up trying to explain, he left me alone and out I went. Derry’s library is high tech, new and tucked near to the shopping centre by the river. Follow the vision of Iceland and you’ll get there. The painted sparkly tourist buses around the Bog, the Fountain and the rest of Derry’s history were waiting like a temptation. Of course, I can resist anything but temptation and a set of tourist buses. Could be a good quote in there.

So much of Derry’s mapping depends on its history. Being useless at cartography, I have tended to ask directions. Invariably, I’ve been told to follow the walls... I’m sure a certain ice cream vendor could pick up on this.

I found the Verbal Arts Centre (gathering, performance, exhibition and debating arena with a myriad rooms and corridors equal only to the centre at Omagh) squatting behind the old barracks near the courthouse. The debate as to what happens to the former continues. Meanwhile, The Verbal Arts Centre, dedicated to language in all its forms still feels hidden away behind an institution which puts the fear of God still up the skirts of a few members of the community. However much high quality work it offers, it’s profile gets over-shadowed by grey wires and towers and the uncomfortable feeling from potential punters of walking by its difficult past.

On spec was not a good idea. The office was hosting quite a sharp Powerpoint based talk. The building is kept on its toes constantly, so I arranged to meet Zoe, from the centre the following day.

The same happened with the Nerve Centre (with its eaterie and internet-erie), Café Nervosa). All was arranged. I strode off looking for work from Mr Hewitt to balance up my expanding poetry collection. The only collection was £35 in the second hand book store in the craft village, again the directions were ‘follow the walls then…

Oh you read that contemporary stuff, I overheard the man behind the counter say to a customer. Book Snobbery will go next to Fahrenheit 451 on the top shelf.

I left with two overpriced books and a disgruntlement the size of something which is rather bigger than a disgruntlement.

St.Columb’s gave me an interview. The woman at the door selling souvenirs convinced me it should be Billy I’d need to interview.

Meanwhile there was manicure sets, alarm clocks, c.d.’s (neither of us could work out what the contents were), postcards and (I think) torches all connected in some way to St Columb’s history, all no doubt to raise funds. During my stay here, there have been statements leading to the presumption that religion is losing its flock. There are still church goers, but some out of habit or guilt (what the percentages are, I’ve no idea)

tongue twister

she sells souvenirs on st.c’s floor
when she sells souvenirs on st.c’s floor
imagine the amount of souvenirs on st.c’s floor
that she sells (so well) on st.c’s floor

I was dispatched into the cathedral with a leaflet as guide and gathered inspiration. I’ve never seen British flags in an English church and returning after all these years, it still jars with me to see blocks of red, white and blue so strong in a place of worship,
though there is a long tradition (does the state have a DNA structure or (swimming) gene pool of its own?) linking church and country.

I moved onto the Fountain, a Loyalist area which had a book based on and written by the community but facilitated through the verbal Arts Centre. I’m sure I’ve talked about it before. This time I went in. What I thought was a small wedge of Derry, opened out to a sprawling series of winding working class streets bedecked with bunting, painted kerbstones and a tower museum dedicated to those that died in the service of the Queen (excuse my paraphrasing again). There was nobody there who remembered the book and no-one really to interview. I’ll post the pictures of the murals soon or put some kind of links in.

You’ve already read the poem. The interview should be blogged (word for word) soon, so should be the interview with The Verbal Arts Centre link and The Nerve Centre. My libertarian friend also gave me an interview, which will be posted up soon. I’d appreciate comments on all of them.