What a week. Bashir, Harry, Eurovision, Glastonbury so many scandals in a few days! The Dyson Report into Martin Bashir’s interview with Princess Diana, rather the way he went about gaining her confidence and then blowing her life apart. He is sometimes described as a ‘journalist’ which is an insult to members of the National Union of Journalists. Not only Diana was duped by him but so was Michael Jackson and apparently George Best. Lord Dyson called it deceitful behaviour and someone else said it couldn’t happen today as action has been taken so that such a ‘mistake’ could never happen again – mistake?
It wasn’t a mistake it was a carefully and devious thought out course of action over a period of time apparently ably assisted by management. And what possessed former director general of the BBC Lord Tony Hall to re-employed him as religious affairs correspondent and then promote him to religion editor even after his twisted credentials were uncovered. Hall has since apologised and yesterday quit his chairmanship of National Gallery, big deal. I worked in the BBC for quite some years and it was a great place to learn your craft. It was Gloria Honeyford who asked me onto her radio programme in the first place, then I joined Walter Love and then I was given my own programme and Ask Anne was born. It was a magical time but it was strict, the chain of command was short but professional and I didn’t know of any wrong doing. It has to be recognised that this scandal is one area within a huge organisation where usually standards are maintained at the highest level.
However, Prince William’s address to camera was quite startling as his anger towards ‘Aunty’ was ill disguised. Then Harry, who during the week had been so cruel to his grandmother and his late grandfather and his own father about their parenting, put in his two pennies worth. He seems to be using the public as his personal therapist pouring out his pent up grief but I think the public are getting a little bit fed up and certainly telling the American public that the First Amendment is ‘bonkers’ was a big mistake.
Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.
Sadly, after missing for two years, Glastonbury was to be live streamed to fans round the world but unfortunately the celebration came to nothing as the Internet connection was completely overwhelmed by the volume of people waiting to join and was unable to cope. At seven o’clock last night it crashed, the message was Invalid No Access. A disaster for the organisers who were relying on the £20 on-line ticket price to pay the artists, massive expenses and secure their future. Now it’s going on line free of charge. But what Glastonbury lost Eurovision gained as apparently people switched over to BBC and continued to party with Graham Norton and the four hosts of the Rotterdam show.
If ever tattoos spoiled the look it was one of the hosts, a very tall lady in a puce dress with puce eyeshadow but her arms were covered in tattoos which I think were very ugly and gave a sort of masculine look. It was a remarkable production, 26 songs, long hair and skimpy costumes, a live audience of 3500 and slick direction. Even Graham said it was the best yet.
Pity about the UK entry, it took five people to write James Newman’s song including himself. Sadly the young man was out of breath a lot of the time and he looked very dark in his big all encompassing zipped up coat when the majority of performers were bright and spangly but to be fair he ‘sold’ it but they weren’t buying. People screamed ‘politics’ – no, just a bad song badly sung. Norton was more subdued than usual and that was a relief, the information he gave was interesting and there was less of the innuendo which gets tiresome but still the odd jab to make you laugh. Eurovision divides people, those who scoff and ask you why would you watch such rubbish and those who have a party and enjoy the spectacle. I’m sort of in between, I wouldn’t miss it because I love anything live and the productions are superb. Then I go and make a cup of tea during the voting and back for the result. Best of both worlds!
REMEMBERING OUR HISTORY
I belong to an Internet site called Images and Memories of Old Northern Ireland Pre 2000. It’s a scrap book of experiences and photographs from people all over, within Northern Ireland and from local people In other parts of the world. There’s a lot of history resulting in connections and the delight is that one post leads to another, queries are answered and stories evolve.
Recently one topic caught my attention, the Gasworks on Ormeau Road in Belfast, a famous plant that produced gas for over 160 years. It sent me on a path of exploration. Opened in 1822 it was a major employer and made big profits, so much that the company paid for the construction of the City Hall, gave money to improve the transport system and I suppose, put themselves out of business by sponsoring an electricity service. I well recall the downside, the frequent smell of sulphur that blanketed the city.
By the end of World War ll the company provided town gas for around 120,000 people but, according to Belfast City Council, by the 1960s demand declined and production finally stopped in 1985.
I remember my mother telling me that when they were little, she and her sister were taken to the gasworks when they had whooping cough. They were held over the vertical retorts and told to breath the sulphur fumes into their lungs! It might have cured the whooping cough but it didn’t do much for the poor frightened children.
Serving The Community
I discovered that children were also given cinder water, a remedy for congested chests. Burning hot cinders from the furnace were plunged into cold water which was then drained through muslin and given to cure asthma or a bad cough. When you delve into the history the stories are fascinating. Bags of coke for the fire cost housewives one shilling and enterprising children would buy a bag and split it up into smaller bags which they sold for a halfpenny. Some women whose husbands worked there told their children they must behave because the gas pipe in their home went all the way to the gasworks where their daddy could watch what was going on. Another tall story was that there were machines that could turn silver bottle tops into half crowns! I am ashamed to admit we used to cover pennies with bottle tops and rub and rub until the penny looked just like a shiny half crown and sometimes in the busy tuck shop we’d get a handful of change back for a penny chew!
All this brought back my memories of walking down Ormeau Road past the Klondike Building and hearing the buckets carrying the coal as they were winched up high to the furnaces to be turned into coke, the metal screaming in the mechanism. I was working in Ulster Television in those early days and after the evening programme, at about seven o’clock on a misty winter night it was a terrifying experience. For some reason I thought it must sound like the children in Auschwitz crying out as they were forced from their mothers. I had no idea why I thought that but when I visited Auschwitz many years later as I walked between the gas chambers I could hear that screaming in my head.
There was great camaraderie between the men, John Wayne, Willie Woodbine, 65 Special and Sausage. When Sausage had an accident on York Street his mate went for the police but he couldn’t give them a name because he didn’t know his name! “He’s just Sausage,” he told them.
Quenching Your Thirst
The Ivy bar in Donegall Pass was the place to ‘keep that glass dirty’. A pint of Guinness cost 11 pence and although the men made a good wage the management were aware of the rolling contract and made sure they didn’t fall into that trap. Men, and some boys as young as 14, were employed right up to Christmas week then laid off so they weren’t entitled to a Christmas bonus. Then they were re-employed in the New Year and the buckets started their relentless journey again.
It was dirty work so the Ormeau Baths, actual baths rather than swimming baths, were a welcome relief from the black dust that covered the men, one said he had to cover his mug of tea with his hand between sips to shield it from the coal dust.
In October 1976 some remember the explosion which rocked the city, people thought it was the end of the world as the whole sky lit up orange when an IRA bomb resulted in a spectacular gas fireball and the deaths of three IRA men.
When the Gasworks closed in 1985 the site was contaminated but was eventually cleansed and is now a modern business park although the red brick perimeter walls have been retained, apparently because in a BBC documentary John Betjeman said they were important both historically and architecturally. The imposing clock tower still stands as a reminder of those pioneering days when it actually chimed the hour to alert people far and wide; it was designed in 1887 by Robert Watt and was one of the first to be erected in the British Isles. While it doesn’t appear to have changed from the exterior, the clock has been revamped over the years to keep up with the times, both literally and metaphorically.
An Ulster Television documentary Goodbye Old Flame is well worth the watch and is available at digitalfilmarchive.net/media/goodbye-old-flame-2173
