The final leg - Reflections of the Northern Ireland Project – just scratching again 7/9/04 (and challenges)

That night was to be my last in Northern Ireland. I was to fly back the next day to England and its glorious Nottingham East Midlands Airport. I still find it strange to talk about the difference between where I'd been traveling for two weeks and the geographical north. How can you describe Teelin Point near Donegal as part of the south? When I talk about the Mourne Mountains, I say they're in the south of the north. Perhaps a new compass should be invented which takes in not only south-southeast etc but also north-south-north or north-north-north. Is this feasible? Would NESTA fund me? If Ms Vorderman would like to post a comment…

I've only stroked the skin of Ireland this journey. Maybe that's good. The intention was to view the place from a position and vision of neutrality. - it was difficult at times and I had to keep steadying myself. My background in politics always dictated 'if in doubt - move to the left'. There is a changing tide between Loyalism and Nationalism. With the economy becoming more gluttonous there are further class issues - Republican and Loyalist working jar and (at the same time) meld with middle class of the same. Conspiracies of old are still in the mindset and the 'can we trust any of our representatives?' of the English is seeping in with the coffee and shopping sophistications of the city. We all suffer from it - including myself.

But at least people are talking. For example, I was told by one interviewee, that when she applied for some lottery funding, the paramilitaries tried to take the pot of money over. She stood her ground.

Up until 1997, few that I met would mention the troubles. Now it can feel like a reminiscence workshop; the growth, the developments, the road-building and the settling into a kind of peace all being like a shock of the new. Though this may just be my observation, it would be interested to find someone who's been diary-ing the re-building and re-hydrating process. I walked into a changing way of life and the billboards said so.

I've brought back very little for other people. Kurt and Sharon, who looked after the flat have exactly what they requested - a bookmark each. Illuminated with Celtic knotwork they sit nice ethnically-flush with the stone from Cushendall beach, where the sea would pull the pebbles back over each other to make the bona-fide sound of beauty. I picked one up myself - a rugged heart shaped one - I'm still a romantic even at the age of almost 39 (13th October - same day as Thatcher's and Currie's Birthday). A pine cone from one of St Patrick's Cathedrals in Armagh, albeit battered and bruised (the pine cone that is) went to my boss who was poorly sick at the time.

Everyone in the address book has pretty much had a card too - if not the address book itself. I did promise to send one to Arts Council East Midlands but didn't take the address with me - so my apologies to Simon and Lou.

There's lots of things I'd do (and will do) different next time. I'll give myself more time to organise the trip, make sure I get the forms right, make the process pay and let Ireland have the time she needs to take counsel with me.

There are still poems to write. I've not forgotten my creativity. The new term has started and I've had to ride the rollercoaster (could be a song in there somewhere) of finding out whether I've got enough enrolled on my courses to warrant them running. Not everybody wants to do creative writing nowadays - and they all think I'm weird anyway.

After the press release I sent out on return, there have been a few well dones but no real strong contact from local authorities here; no book deals, no bunting, no proscenium welcome back or Bruce Forsyth, Didn't he do well? Whereas in Northern Ireland, the press were contacted by the hosts and I had first-rate coverage. According to a local Stapleford drunk (slurring and glassy eyed) The Ilkeston Advertiser used the picture from the Newry visit as well as the information sheet I sent out.

Good news. The Cnocnafeola Centre (Attical) are putting my poem on the front page of their website and I've just handed my first article to Incorporating Writing. Some of it you'll have read before on these pages, but as I go along, I'll no doubt be re-calling a little bit more. I think I've just got a solid offer to translate one o the poems too. Anyone else out there willing to give it a go?

There's a few out there who are ready to throw in some more comments on the blog. Always welcome more...

There's not a great deal of use describing the journey home. The view of Ireland came and went and I was back in half an hour. He must have been pedalling really quick to knock those ten minutes off the time.

There are some challenges I still wish to set you. Whilst I was sitting in a class room I heard the modernised songs now sung at harvest time. I was impressed.

My challenge is for each town of Northern Ireland to create its hymn. There's no prizes and no spangly outfits - sorry. The hymns should have a tune which uplifts and hopefully be performed by the end of the year. Good luck. Post me the results - we'll see if we can get them as music downloads.