I’m really sad to hear of the death of John Killen. For me he was Mr. Linen Hall Library for 37 years, he was the man to go to, kind and informative every time I referred to him on any subject. John was so interesting to talk to, a gentleman, modest, dapper and delightful.
When I read that Gloria Hunniford was on the masked singer I went back on my ‘catchup’ to watch. I bet she was mad with Davina McCall who blithely said she couldn’t believe it was Gloria because she is usually so fit and energetic but had to be supported by two of the show’s handsome men. Gloria being Gloria laughed it off with a comment about being old – she’ll never be old! My guess is the costume she was wearing was heavy and cumbersome hence the need to have two glam men on her arms.
Talking of catchup, I was entranced yet again this year with the New Year Day concert live from Vienna. Two and a half hours of music, fun and masterly musicians all led and encouraged by Daniel Barenboim who’s sense of humour is lovely. The director gives us shots of the men and the 10 women of the orchestra and over time you get to know them, they smile at each other, they sing and they whistle, they are very animated when playing and as Barenboim said in a very moving speech, they are a community wanting to share their passion. Not liking so much the dancers and the tour of Vienna during a couple of numbers however I was able to do other things during these items whilst still listening. Two and a half hours well spent on Sunday. Recommended.
THE LURE OF NETFLIX IS HARD TO RESIST
Just before Christmas I tuned into The Crown on Netflix only to discover I had only watched about two episodes at the very beginning and so had the delight of living in Buckingham Palace for much of the last two weeks. What a wonderful production, acting, costumes, characters, all superb. I am bereft today, finished and up to date by Friday afternoon but so steeped in the royal family that I simply can’t get out of their lives, I keep wondering how they are today, what they are doing, I sit in their drawing room and pace the corridors. For the first time I felt the agony of Princess Diana and how cruel the queen was to her, the depth of Charles’ mixed up background and his mother’s contempt and lack of any love – same with his father. I know that it’s ‘a show’ and not accurate all the time but a lot of it is based on fact, what happened when and how.
The scenes in Aberfan, the audiences with Margaret Thatcher, the favouritism shown to Prince Andrew, Michael Fagan sitting on her bedside and the wonderful Princess Margaret.
I would love to know if she watched it and what she thought. I think it would be hard to resist a little peak, I think she would have very mixed views. Certainly in her younger days when played by Claire Foy. I was very concerned when this actress turned up as the Duchess of Argyll in A Very British Scandal. Coming so close to my viewing of the Crown I could help thinking was that the queen pleasuring the headless man or the duchess – it made interesting viewing:
Congratulations to colleagues who were recognised in the New Year listings, an honour that will bring with it the exciting visit to Buckingham Palace to actually walk those corridors and linger in the picture gallery and be amazed by the old masters and their work. I was fortunate to have attended a few years ago and delighted to chat with Prince William, most charming and interested in answers to his questions. It was before the pandemic and my hope is that this year those receiving their ‘gongs’ will be able to travel to London and take full advantage of a spectacular day, worthy of Netflix! Whether you agree to these honour or not, the experience is memorable.
GOOD BYE OLD YEAR, YOU ARE WELCOME NEW YEAR ONLY IF YOU MAKE A BETTER FIST OF THE NEXT TWELVE MONTHS – PLEASE
Such a sad and tragic end to 2021 with the news of deaths of so many people especially young people in recent car accidents. There is little by way of comfort but to think of those families going through their sudden grief knowing life will never be the same again. But then it’s like that for so many families who have suffered bereavement last year.
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Professor Jim Dornan with Anne Logan and her son David.
What a year it was. 2020 was bad enough although somehow we were waiting for the Covid pandemic to come to an end, indeed in March we thought it would be over in a couple of weeks and sat in the garden in the blistering sunshine just waiting it out. How wrong we were. As 2020 became 2021 there was the hope of a vaccine to put paid to this vile creature and to an extent it has but the fear around new variants was confirmed with the appearance of omicron. I heard one very sad thing on Friday. Because of covid a family group of nine had to cancel their reservation at a downtown restaurant and when the cancellation was relayed to the member of staff at the other end of the phone, he cried. I think this underlines the terrible situation our hospitality friends and colleagues are in – fragile.
Looking back on my writings for last year is a bit sad, in February the death of campaigner and supporter of young people Celia Gourley OBE, a woman who loved theatre, horse racing, rugby, travel and buying shoes. All this despite being a double amputee when an IRA bomb exploded under her car and robbed her of her legs. A case of ‘mistaken identity’ which condemned her to become dependent on a wheelchair. I visited her in Lisburn – “You’ll know the house, there’s a big Labrador in the window,” and so there was, not real but a huge toy dog keeping watch. In her bedroom there were her two prosthetic legs propped up against the end of the bed. Both were sporting black fishnet stockings. That was Celia, every day was too important to allow herself to get morbid or sad although there were times when that was difficult. The last time we met was in Marks and Spencers and she looked a million dollars, she was coming from the hair dressers where she had colour put into her creamy white hair and she chose pink! This was her style.
Later that month an article was about domestic violence and the fact that the police here respond to a domestic abuse incident every 17 minutes representing 17.5% of all crime in Northern Ireland and that since lockdown began five women had been murdered by a male partner or relative.
Professor Jim Dornan died in March and was mourned by many. I worked with this renowned obstetrician when making a TV programme about A Women’s Lot.
One area was vital to the story and that was the birth of a baby. He and I talked, he asked what day would suit to come along with the film crew. “However, you come first and see a birth just so you know what happens.” I did. Lovely young woman welcomed me into her room, Jim explained she would be induced. Everything was ready. Then it all happened, the baby was coming of her own accord and there was great excitement, I was flat against the back wall terrified something would go wrong but it didn’t! All the mother kept saying was “Can Anne see OK.” What I saw was Jim Dornan in action, his encouragement, his humour and above all his skill.
Filming day arrived.
We met Jim at the front door of Royal Maternity and the news that our ‘candidate’ had unexpectedly gone into labour and delivered her baby. A moment of disappointment but only a moment because the next question was: “Would a Caesarean birth be any good?” And so we met Mary Logan, great with child and delighted to share her joy with us.
There, in front of our eyes, David Logan came into this world and there was no one more delighted than Jim Dornan. Twenty one years later Mary contacted me to say that baby David was about to celebrate his ‘big’ birthday and was off to New York with his guitar and a spirit of adventure. I phoned Jim and told him and he was delighted. “I’d love to meet him and wish him well,” was his reaction and so we all met at the Irish News for a small celebration and the story came full circle.
In April there was a walk through Paris and thoughts on of August day in Donegal. There was light relief later in the year thanks to reader ‘Philipp’ who claimed the Irish Medical Dictionary proves the we have the lowest stress rate because we don’t take medical terminology seriously. Perhaps you remember. Artery, the study of paintings. Bacteria, back door to cafeteria. Barium, what doctors do when a patient dies. Benign, what you be after your are eight. Cauterize, made eye contact with her. Coma, a punctuation mark. Dilate, to live long. Enema, not a friend. Fester, quicker than someone else Fibula, a small lie. Impotent, distinguished and well known. Labour pain, getting hurt at work. Morbid, a higher offer. Nitrates, higher rates of pay for working at night. Node – I knew it. Post operative – a letter carrier. Recovery room, a place to do upholstery. And finally, Urine, opposite of you’re out!
Criticism of Boris Becker during the coverage of Wimbledon in July I thought was unjustified and I said so. He dared to call a tennis player’s Hungarian fiancee ‘pretty’. “They do say they have the most beautiful women in Hungary. I wouldn’t know that but she’s certainly very pretty”. He was accused of ‘crossing the line’. I included this joke for a blond Boris. A blond man shouts frantically into the phone, ‘My wife is pregnant and her contractions are only two minutes apart’. ‘Is this her first child?’ asks the doctor. ‘No,’ he shouts, ‘this is her husband’.
That month two players got little coverage and little kudos when wheelchair finalists, Gordon Reid and winner Joachim Gerard, received their tiny trophies presented by two members of tournament management, such an insult. I have emailed the Wimbledon club asking if new courts for wheelchair players will be included in the extended facilities coming up in the future. That was second week in December. Still waiting for an answer.
`Friday night we said goodbye to 2021 and hello to 2022 heralded in with Jools’ annual Hootenanny which I can’t tolerate, so don’t watch, Happy New Year Live on BBC one and ITV News including New Year Bongs. I depressed myself by watching Don’t Look Up a film on Netflix where a comet was heading straight to our little world and scientists promised it meant oblivion for mankind. No one listened, a crackpot tried to zap it without success and the comet hit and indeed mankind was wiped out! I stayed up as usual to open the front door and let the old year out and the new year in. Used to be we could hear the church bells ring and the boats in Belfast harbour toot their welcome. For the last number of years those beautiful old fashioned sounds were drowned out by fireworks and dogs and cats, children and adults felt their hearts jumping every time a Thunder Clap went off, literally rocked your insides. This year it was much more sedate although I’m sure there were noisy parties that spilled onto the street elsewhere. My best memory was a New Year party in our house with a riotous bunch of friends. Then came midnight and we cheered and toasted each other in a slightly inebriated state and rushed outside to hear the bells and the horns. So did a family across the road and eventually they all joined us and, being a Scottish clan, a tall handsome dark haired man was good enough to first foot us with a slice of cake – might have been haggis – and a lump of coal. It was a night to remember, absolute happiness, absolute joy. Young and old mingled, there was no such thing as bedtime that night and some even stayed until the morning and breakfast before they were safe to drive home! Memories of late nights and early sunrises. Thanks to Susie Hailes Harken for the pic of sunrise heralding a bright new day.
I wish this to be a year of positive news, worldwide improvements especially in our health situation and peace and love for all.