Open Your Eyes, What Do You See?

     I had the honour of showing five delightful Irishmen around my home town recently. There are John and Shamus, Liam and Noel and brother-in-law Tom, Tom Jones that is. There are two firemen, a postman and two professional singers; no, Tom, Tom Jones that is, is not one of the singers. Some live in County Wicklow, one lives in London and one lives near Nottingham; and they all know Dublin. Confused, how do you think I felt! They would appear to have a profound intellectual interest in and appreciation of all things historical; plus less intellectually, they love eating. drinking and charity shops!

    My hometown is Derby (England). Hands up who's ever been there? Hands up, what Derby's famous for? Who's ever even heard of the place; or could find it on a map? I have often asked similar questions on my travels, seldom receiving very convincing answers. So, from the top of my head, here goes.

    Derby, home of Royal Crown Derby; Rolls Royce Aero Engines, anything to do with railways and, built in more recent times, Toyota motor factory. Home to Derby County Football Club (the ground now called IPro Stadium, the club previously housed at The Baseball Ground.) According to some the most haunted city in England, Florence Nightingale and that's all that comes to mind at the moment. No matter, it defeats the object if I use the internet to refresh my mind. With all this in mind I took my Irish friends on a somewhat impromptu 'tour' and this is how our day went! Plus it was an education for me too!

     We walked through what was, when I was a lad, Victoria Street, the town's main street. (I rode regally in a new, 'bog standard' wheelchair, an education in itself and bloody uncomfortable.) Only now the town is dominated by a huge shopping complex, the Intu Centre, around six hundred yards away.

Resulting in Victoria Street and surrounds being bereft of shoppers, looking forlorn and unattractive, discouraging in the extreme. Alongside which stands derelict Duckworth Square, abandoned at least ten years ago, welcome to the City of Derby!

    We visited the town's museum. We examined an exhibition by an Irishman, Denis O'Connor.       . We saw Derby's own Joseph Wright paintings; we saw also a 'mummy' three thousand years old, PLUS the mummified cat I so loved as a child all those years ago; some things never change!

    In the Silk Mill we observed 'a work in progress'. The oldest factory in the world, it is to house objects that show Derby's place in the industrial world. Aero engines or railway exhibits for instance.     The museum is also 'a work in progress'. Particularly noticeable are bright, eager, in the main young volunteers in all manner of occupation who are keenly ensuring at least some progress is made. It is blatantly obvious that money, or the lack of it is making life difficult if not impossible in any project remotely deemed 'cultural'. It looks like its 'Lottery/Heritage funding or nothing. I am pleased our visitors saw attempts at preserving our heritage for our children. Plus the army of unpaid, keen cheerful volunteers deserve our thanks, if not the government or the councils cash.

    With the pursuit of historical knowledge in mind we also visited three hostelries! The Bell, an ancient pub in Sadler Gate. A pub with a so chequered a recent history that it was shut by the police for some considerable time. Very, very old,  I viewed the state of the top floor out of the window and wondered if it would refrain from collapsing before we finished our drinks. Oh ye of little faith, Kenneth, my Irish friends thought it 'the bees knees' or whatever they say in Ireland!

Similarly The Dolphin public house, reputedly the oldest pub in Derby was received with due Irish reverence. And the third 'drinking experience' we encountered was The Standing Order. An ex-bank, a Wetherspoons establishment that is very impressive; its ceiling is particularly so. Coupled with excellent food it was a supurb choice. We also called briefly in Bennetts, probably the oldest departmental store in Derby. We were too late to comprehensively view the goods on display but the young female assistants were much admired! Thus ended a glorious day. My friends despatched me in a yellow cab and they returned to their base in Attenborough.

    An ordinary place, Derby, made special for the day by extraordinary people. Was it John Howard Payne who said 'Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home' Mind you, I've seen these words also attributed to Frank Baum's ' Wonderful Wizard of Oz' AND to  Bridget Carson amongst others so take your pick!

    Humorous, patient, lively in the extreme, you were all excellent ambassadors for Ireland. Thanks chaps, I hope you all enjoyed the day as much as I did.

Fame is But a Fleeting Thing

I suspect deep in us all is the desire for fame of a kind. Perhaps even some of us would relish the fame Judith O'Reilly has achieved, quite rightly with her excellent blog 'Wife in the North.' Is this not part of the reason we blog, to gain attention, to be liked and admired, however tiny our audience when compared to the seasoned professionals. John Dewey, the American philosopher wrote of 'the desire to be important', Sigmund Freud talked of 'the desire to be great'. If I remember right Legs Diamond, the American gangster once said all he wanted from life was to be liked. And surely we wouldn't be blogging, in public if we weren't attention seeking. (I appreciate for some it is therapy, a type of release, which is slightly different.)

It's a funny thing, fame. Andy Warhol is perhaps best known for his statement 'In the future everyone will be famous for fifteen minutes.' My fifteen minutes seems to be a long time coming.

Surely there must be things in my longish life that are exceptions to the rather mundane (I hasten to add I enjoy my life) happenings that are the norm in a working class existence.

I've got Len Shackleton's autograph, plus Nat Lofthouse's and Wilf Mannion's. Super heroes of the past. I once saw Wee Georgie Wood on the street in London, albeit fleetingly. Plus Princess Margaret in Lincoln, back view only. William Roach comes from Derbyshire, plus Arthur Lowe and Alan Bates, only I never met any of them. Mike Brearley, ex England cricket captain is a distant cousin, or so I'm told. I've never met him either! We don't shout the odds in Derbyshire, we consider it somewhat vulgar. Our football team Derby County scored the lowest points ever in a season in the Premier League and our county cricket team is probably the worst of them all. (High hopes for both in the future.) So no need for bellicose belligerence there. (The Derbyshire motto is said to be 'Derbyshire born, Derbyshire bred, strong in the arm and weak in the head'.)

I have difficulty in naming three three famous people with Derbyshire connections. Florence Nightingale was a Derbyshire lady. Joseph Wright the painter was Derby born and the first Astronomer Royal, John Flamsteed came from near Derby, my home town. Then I'd start to struggle.

As a schoolteacher of some considerable years fame eluded me in the main. True I was known for my ability to mirror write. (Almost certainly connected with the fact that I am left handed.) Plus I was the only teacher who boomeranged and flew kites with pupils in dinner hours. No mean feat on a playing fields containing awesome electricity pylons. Kites, boomerangs and pylons are poor bed fellows.

The oldest pupils I taught will now be around fifty years of age; a mind boggling thought. But the thing that thrills me most is when ex-pupils still come up to me in the street and say 'Hello sir, how are you?' Absolutely brilliant, a tiny example of 'fame' that fills me with pride even after all these years.

If I am to become really famous it has yet to come. I suspect everyone has had moments or longer when 'fame' has landed on their shoulder. Dare we suggest that some may be 'infamous', perish the thought!

So besides writing the best blog since fried bread have you had your moment of fame. What are you famous for?