Newry (more from...) 6/9/04

So what was I saying? Ah yes - Newry. I'd forgotten what it looked like. It still has its pedestrianised centre which comes across like lots of towns do in early September time. I don't remember the library here though, or if it was, it certainly wasn't so prominent.

I've already explained the process I'd adopted here; there wasn't time to organise a writers' group so I sited myself just beyond the security barriers at the library door and made myself ready for the thrusting public influx. And when I say security barriers, I mean the ones that beep when you've taken a book through you haven't stamped out.

Newry, I'm told is 97% Catholic. This community and the other 3% get on with no problems. Whereas (I'm also told) in Coleraine, the opposite is true in both respects. I'll leave that issue there.

There's something about library staff in Northern Ireland that makes them so completely approachable. With minimal notice, they quickly invited and accepted me in and briskly offered me a cup of tea. Apologies if I'm repeating myself btw.

They were even so good as to create an acrostic poem. They were shocked to be told it would go on the blog.

A poem by the staff of Newry Library

never ending days in the sun
examining the faces of the masses
wondering what to do next
reality of the hum drum
yonder blue wonder in the shimmering sky
looking in places for so many faces
imaginings the distant rumblings
babies crying mothers sighing
rollercoaster reeling really rocking
autumn apples
red sunset rustic city
yellowing leaves in the dying days
so much to do so little time
enid blyton excites as always
rapidly expanding minds between the sleeves
vipers twisting in a sea of venom
internet information innovation
chiming of the city's cathedral bells
exploring the world of the unknown

I spoke to a man who lives about a thousand yards from where I was sitting (no - not in the library!) who went to the Christian Brothers' School. During his early years, he moved so often (six times in twelve years), his mother said he should have lived in a caravan. For those that know the area, at one point he live in Bessbrook Mill, which was owned by the Quakers, which, during World War 2 was used to station the army. It was around this time that Newry began to have an influx of people to the town. It was outgoing and without any hang ups.

Religion though was decided by the name. The man I spoke to had a typically English name though was actually Catholic. Because of the former, his father managed to get a job which he wouldn't have due to his faith.

Thirty years ago, Newry was hit by an explosion. At the same time, there was very little work and consequently an organisation, involving my interviewee and John Hume (from Derry) called WIN was set up by local businesses. Work in Newry encourage the growth of light manufacturing and high technology communication.

high church
low steeple
dirty street
proud people

(johnathan swift on newry)

if you asked the way
in newry - they'd show you or
take you there themselves

(me - with help from my visitor)

He was the one who told me of The Woodkern (poem) and also said I should look for another one, The Inchcape Rock and the Diagonal Steam Trap poem. He was obviously proud of where he lived. Not so the next man who simply said - It's a dump, nothing to do. He couldn't elucidate on this due to time. I'm not sure if he was actually willing to anyway. Shame really. Must hold the record for my shortest ever interview.

Next patient please…

This one lived in Newry twenty five years and left in August 1998. House prices, he says have doubled since the ceasfire but people are still commuting from Dublin because of the prices there. Before the ceasfire everyone headed south for the nightlife, now he says there's a lot more to do here.