Experience Belfast

22/10/2024

I haven’t been in the sea for over 2 weeks. I went today with trepidation, more to get back into it, to experience cold water before winter really hits. I wasn’t looking forward to it and was met by blue sky, heat and crystal clear water. It’s amazing how you can build things up in your own mind so they becomme bigger obstacles in your head than they are in reality.

17/10/2024

Walking the hound through the mist yesterday evening and the lane reminded me of W H Owen,

“Down the close, darkening, lanes, we sang our way to the send off”

The sense of constraint and claustrophobia juxtaposed by the gaiety of song; an anaesthetic to the reality of their situation.

Walking was easy enough, vision was about 10 or 15 metres. I could see where I was going but nothing either side of me; an easy allegory for life. Our memories and experiences can close in and care is needed, less all you see is the narrow path ahead.

No such issues for Paul the Labrador, he found a stick and demanded I throw it for him. I call this, “Labrador Philosophy”, the imperative to live in the moment. There is a beauty in the ordinary and a joy to the mundane.

14/10/2024

A view from the Queen’s Bridge in Belfast (1843) looking towards new Waterfront developments that didn’t existing 20 years ago. From the past to the future:
re

28/09/2024

Another beautiful vista of a sunrise; what isn’t apparent is how rough the sea is. Waves are banging against rocks. The sea seems angry, churlish and spoiling for a fight like a jilted boy at 2am outside a nightclub.

I stood and looked at this for 5 minutes debating whether to go in. I was the only swimmer on the beach, had no float and I’m not a great swimmer. Easy enough decision you’d have thought but I prevaricated. After all, I was here in my swimming gear and I might as well? Why waste the journey and I’d only go in to waist height for a few moments. These voices in your head, souvenirs of a more reckless youth.

In the end, I turned and walked away. I have experience. I’m at an age where I’ve long since recognised that bad things don’t just happen to other people.
Besides which, why risk others? There’s not just me in my world.

Experience is a two edged sword. It can help you to see around corners but it can also stop you from walking to the corner. There is a ‘Age of Reason’ for everyone, for me it was 28, when life and your understanding of it gets interrupted by events often in the form of trauma.

These can be opportunities, a chance to rebuild to a new stronger version of you. Alternatively people can retreat into themselves, close their worlds and their minds. There are somethings that are not recoverable from but there are some people who decide not to. There is an element of choice on how we move forward and define ourselves. Leonard Cohen’s statement, “There’s a Crack in Everything, that’s How the Light Gets in” is true but in my case it wasn’t a crack it was a mallet through plasterboard.

I didn’t go in. Sometimes the smart thing to do is not to do anything.

26/09/2024

It’s been threatening to rain this week. The trouble with Belfast is that when it threatens, it usually f——— succeeds!

weather

19/09/2024

“Sometimes I feel like a newborn child
I look at the world with brand new eyes
Stand up tall in the morning sun
The joy to see a new day begun.”

Good things to you and yours, this fine day.

18/09/2024

Belfast City Hall, this morning; a statement of Victorian grandeur. Tours start on the pavement directly in front of the building:

13/09/2024

Belfast Lough this morning:

12/09/2024

Strange couple of days, starting with a prostrate exam, a procedure that used to cause cold sweats and terror. For a straight, heterosexual Belfast boy like myself, one has to cross the Rubicon psychologically. Put simply, “My hole is my own.” I remember the first time I was PROBED! It was in the run up to the bowel cancer diagnosis.

“Now Mr Magee, we just need to examine you.”

“That’s fine Dr.”

She then proceeded to explain what was involved and every part of my being was screaming,

“You’re going to do fu***ng what?”

I practically backed against the wall but submitted with the proviso,

“Some men like this kind of thing, I’m not one of them! Be gentle.”

When I returned to Royal Mail, people were asking about my health, men in particular with the details of what was involved. By God did I have some fun with them. Nervous laughter doing little to disguise their abject terror. I’d let it run a while before telling them,

“Don’t die of embarrassment , the Dr won’t be embarrassed, neither should you.”

Yesterday was a difficult tour. Torrential rain on three or four occasions and a biting, cold wind. Add to that, people arriving late, people wanting to leave early and a right wing Brazilian woman and my head was melted.

This morning I went for a dip in Belfast Lough to wash off yesterday. It was cold and reviving. I remembered advice I heard from Reece Witherspoon. Rather than say ‘’I have to”, say “I get to” and it works. Today I got to lead my tour, I got to meet some amazing people and I got to feel the rain on my bald bonce. Some people would give anything to be able to do this.

Life is precious, if you’re unsure about anything, go and get checked out. The finger points the way!

11/09/2024

He’s moulting at the moment. To be honest he’s continuously moulting to a degree I’ve never experienced with other dogs. His hair is everywhere and when he brushes against you, he leaves dog hair souvenirs.

Some people do that too, they leave traces of themselves which can be good or bad, toxic or positive. I’m on a train into Belfast and someone just came into my mind. Years ago I was alone in Naples, so broken I was out of myself. A middle aged woman (young to me now) guided me safely through the streets of Naples to the bus station so I could get to Amalfi. She was a piano teacher and said I reminded her of her son and she hoped someone would do the same for him in a similar situation.

We were in each other’s company for 10 or 15 minutes but she has always stuck with me. VI remembered her today. We all travel our own roads but our memories are shaped by those we encounter on the way.

10/09/2024

Good morning everyone and with average temperatures today forecast at 12° or 13°, I’m back to my winter gear, hat, heavy fleece and coat. The BBC weather forecast has been horrifically accurate this summer. If they forecast rain, it rained which in Belfast isn’t really a surprise but it feels like it rained all summer. September is slightly better but the weather always seemed to improve when school restarted. I’ve a memory of gazing longingly at blue skies from a classroom. The seasons are on the turn, leaves are on the ground and baldies are donning woollen hats.

07/09/2024

Sunrise over Belfast Lough

04/09/2024

At the Recycling Centre, I nod to a bloke in a Hi-Vis jacket, it’s what we do here, we acknowledge each other. At least some people do, if you’ve ever been blanked, you’ll understand how unsettling it is, like you don’t exist. The modern term is Ghosting which is far more apt. It’s not something I would ever do, at least not intentionally.

‘Alright?’
‘I’m fine, how are you?’

This is a fundamental mistake in these parts because a lot of men will tell you and it’s never good news. Twenty minutes later, you can feel the life force being sucked out of you by the human vortex of a black hole as you spiral towards the blackened nothingness of gripes and complaints. I know what I’ve done so I’m wary.

‘Living the dream’ and he points to his yard bush.

I know what he’s done so chide him.

‘What a great example of passive/aggressive negativity.’

‘If you’d been in my place this time last year, you’d know I AM living the dream.’

He recounts of tale of the black dog and despair and of su***de attempts and not the ‘Woe is me’, ostentatious cries for attention but Stanley knife scars across the wrists. He’s on medication and looks it. I take his email and send him a song. Whether he likes it or not is irrelevant, sometimes just listening can be enough.

31/08/2024

31/08/2024

There is no other place in this world I’d rather be than here. The sun shines down on Belfast, May it shine down on you.

29/08/2024

“This is what Catholic Ireland did”, the words of a former inmate. The bones are still there.

Between 1925 and 1961, babies and children were interred in the home’s grounds, many in a septic tank

28/08/2024

Some people think of this as being long in the past. It went on to 1998 when the Spice Girls were in the charts championing’Girl Power’.’

# Ireland

26/08/2024

This is my dog, Paul the Labrador. He’s wearing the ‘Cone of Shame’ to stop him licking a small wound. Nothing serious but very funny; this picture is pretty much me at 18 when any girl showed the slightest bit of interest in me.

22/08/2024

Sometimes you can’t make things up. The out of focus silver car in the photo is an unmarked police car. What isn’t clear is what is contained inside. I’ll enlighten you. It was one of my guests from the walking tour arrested at the Security Gates on Northumberland Street. When I say arrested, no process was followed and the cop who did the arresting didn’t tell me or the person being carted away, the grounds for his detainment.

The person arrested, let’s call him Clive, hails from Surrey and is as stereotypical a middle class English man as you will find. I spent the afternoon trying to find out what happened. It was confirmed to me that the car was a police car and Clive was no longer in police custody. I eventually got hold of Clive who informed me that he’d been arrested on suspicion of dealing Class A drugs. Now I’m no major Sherlock Holmes but you don’t have to be Einstein to figure out that most major drug dealers don’t sign up on walking tours of interface areas in Belfast. The most cursory of enquiries would have ascertained who Clive was.

I wanted to take this further. I’d a lawyer who wanted to take it further but Clive doesn’t. He’s making his way to the North Coast to do some surfing. In an atypical English way, he feels embarrassed about the whole thing. There is something darkly comic about it too, I’d have loved to have heard the conversation at the Cop Shop. Part of me thinks it would make a great comic caper, the stereotypical fish out of water scenario. Certainly, the other people on the tour were horrified, astounded and bemused in equal measure. A dry American commented that my tour was real. In the words of Spinal Tap, ‘A little to f***ing real’. It was certainly an immersive experience but there’s real and there’s real.

What isn’t in doubt, is the policeman’s entitlement to behave how he did. There’s nothing funny about that.

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17/08/2024

On Lombard Street in Belfast City Centre scurrying towards the Church to deliver Raymond his bacon bap, I feet hits something and hear the clackity clack of plastic on concrete. Initially I think I’ve dropped something but look down to see this syringe, blood still in the chamber. I lift it to bring it to Extern around the corner on Rosemary Street. They’re good people who dispose of needles safely but they’re closed so I put it out of harm’s way on top of a bin. There are a lot of hurt and damaged people in Belfast. You look at most addicts or alcoholics,there’s usually trauma and they need helped but leaving syringes were kid’s could lift them isn’t on:

16/08/2024

New day:

13/08/2024

Saturday selfie and the sun has hit so need for a woolly hat. Whatever way the sun is shining on my bald head, it’s highlighting solitary hairs that stand isolated, like lone trees that have somehow survived an atomic blast, in a post apocalyptic world. They’re reminders of what could have been, what was once a dense forest is now waste land. It amazes me that they grow, why can’t the others? Still I save on hair cuts. It doesn’t matter how talented the artist is, if they’ve no material to work with, they’re wasting their time.

11/08/2024

Saturday, the sun, a body we’ve heard vague rumours about but were never really sure existed, has returned to Belfast and with it the exodus of teenagers to the beach at Helen’s Bay. I’d forgotten about this but the busy platform and delayed train reminded me. I’m tired and desperate for a seat, preferably one that keeps me a safe distance from the teenagers. God knows where they’ve been.

I spy a fold down seat outside the toilet and grab it. I sit down to check my emails and follow up with people who were on the tour. When I look up, I see that the carriage is bunged and I’m surrounded by a cackle of teenage girls. They’ve fake tan and fake eyelashes, swigging from cans of mixer vodka; giddy with life and alcohol and on the lookout for drama and intrigue. A woman to my left announces to me that the train is full. She is in her 40s or 50s with a strawberry dye in her bleached blonde hair and speaks with a pronounced accent. Every part of her is screaming ‘ character’. On either side, I’m trapped. If I’d an ejector seat I’d have left through the roof.

The girls decide to go to the toilet but do what girls of that age have always done, they go collectively, all 8 of them squeeze in, commandeering it like a military manoeuvre. From outside murmured conversation can be heard interjected with loud, “Oh my God, No!” and shrieks of delight and or disgust. It’s hard to tell.

Shortly a young teenage boy appears but sees that the door is locked and stands there bewildered and confused, like Paul the Labrador when the bird he’s chasing flies off. It might be a fact of life that birds can fly and toilet doors can be closed but it somehow leaves Paul and this boy in a state of stupefied shock. My neighbour takes command of the situation, and raps loudly on the door. There is no response but this woman is not to be denied or messed with. I’d bet she has experience of teenagers most likely girls. Her accent is a wonderful mix of broad Belfast and East European,

“Open up, boy vants to do piss.”

The boy looks straight ahead hoping the door or ground will open and swallow him up.

“Stap acting ze bollix, open ze door, boy needs bathroom.’

She was loud before, she’s louder now and her knocks are short and sharp, carrying authority and menace. It’s impressive and it works.

The door opens with a sssh, it’s the same type of door you see on Star Trek and I, like Paul the Labrador or the teenage boy am left with my own sense of bewilderment and shock, “Isn’t the modern world wonderful? Even the railways have Star Trek type doors on their toilets!” Inside the girls are standing in two circles and uncoil without a word, vacating the room, free for the mortified boy.

The train pulls into a station which is packed and one girl shrieks,

“Oh my God, there’s Zane.”

I can’t believe this that someone in Belfast named their child Zane, what’s the matter with Frank? As a group, eyes turn to one girl who clearly had some sort of romantic entanglement with ‘Zane’. She shouts

“Oh No!” in a voice loud enough for everyone to hear. “”He’s getting on, what’ll I do.”

Sanctuary is found miraculously with the toilet door opening, the boy emerges and the space is filled by the girl and 4 or 5 others. The others remain in the carriage. Clearly within the group there is an inner cabinet. The train pulls off.

Zane walks past . You can tell Zane is Zane from the accusatory looks the other girls give him. Zane doesn’t clock this, he’s with his mates, has a football and seems more interested in organising a kick about than matters of the heart.

I bury my head in the phone but a blast from a v**e causes me to look up. Opposite me stands a girl, v**e in hand with the longest eyelashes I’ve ever seen. They’re enormous, the last time I seen anything like them a Cormorant was drying its wings. One good breeze and she’d be carried off to Scotland.

She seems mortified, catches my eye and mouths sorry. I don’t like v**es for lots of reasons but mostly because I suspect they’re lethal. At this moment the body count isn’t high enough for substantial evidence or legislation. It’ll be years before there is any proof or action and even then it’ll have to run the gauntlet of a cost benefit analysis; sustainability of profits against compensation for deaths. Add in the ‘no hard evidence’ factor and ‘Professor Easily Bought’ with counter evidence and I’m pretty sure I’ll see nothing happen about this in my lifetime.

Sometimes I will engage young people who v**e in conversations. I know it’s often futile but I can’t walk past or ignore the situation where I might make a difference. It’s my code, I can’t change the world but I try to positively affect that part of the world I come into contact with. This time I don’t bother, I’m tired but she reminds me of me, a lifetime ago on the Greystone Estate, getting out of my head. We all need a crutch sometime. I mouth that it’s ok.

The lady with the tan speaks to her instead.

“Zeez v**es are no good. You should stop.”

This is actually a command, the girl looks down. The lady continues,

“You going to beach at Helen’s Bay?”

“Yes, your hair is lovely.”

The lady takes the compliment and they engage in a conversation about hair styles. As a baldie, conversations about hair styles are phonetic quick sand so I largely turn off but the lady takes an interest in the girl complimenting her on her own style and making suggestions for improvement. The girl is thrilled and suddenly I see her tragedy; no one had ever taken an interest in this kid. She’s missing a parent figure and craving one. She is tentative but eager to strike up more conversation and more engagement with someone who says nice things about her.

“Would you like to come to the beach with us?”

“No, Helen’s Bay no good, nothink happening.”

I’m wondering what could ‘happen’ at Helen’s Bay, what are the lady’s expectations? San Tropez in the 1950s with Brigette Bardot seductively posing on golden sand, maybe Paris in the early 60s with Jean Luc Goddard or the Berlin Cabaret scene of Liza Minnelli. The girl is disappointed and looks at her v**e. The train pulls in, she scuttles off and is submerged by her friends.

05/08/2024

Also on yesterday’s tour was Robert DiLutis, graduate of Juilliard, clarinet virtuoso and professor of music at the University of Maryland. I’ve included a link to some of his extraordinary playing and beautiful music. Educated and cultured as he undoubtedly is, Robert had never heard of the Underones, a horrific omission that I soon corrected. To be fair to Robert, he pogoed along to Teenage Kicks.

I remember seeing Picasso’s ‘Woman Weeping’ and getting it; a light went on. The broad, vicious, angular lines conveying not just her grief but the viciousness of her pain, as though she was being constantly stabbed. That is what great art does, it illuminates our shared experience as we journey in humanity. We always see something of ourselves reflected back, an essential truth. It exists in classical music, Shakespeare, O’Casey, the writers and poets and artists who cast light and turn switches. It exists wherever you find it because it’s always been there, it’s always been in you, you just needed a little light to see it. It’s always existed in five urchins from Derry.

‘Beauty is Truth, Truth Beauty
That is all you know on earth and all you need to know.’

Keats (who never wrote MyPerfect Cousin)



https://youtu.be/0JUZTz-GVbE?si=pTRs8lm4yo2khuFC