29th May 2010
My Heart Will Go On Celine Dion
Belfast! Clive Staples Lewis and Titanic.
As
a young child I read all of the C.S. Lewis books, buying them individually at
1/6d, one shilling and six pence in old money, seven and a half pence now,
each. The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe being first book bought, the others
followed as pocket money allowed. I loved those books and read over and over
again. Well, I had known for a long time that the author was born in Belfast
but I didn't know that there was a bronze wardrobe with a bronze Mr Lewis
opening the bronze door as he holds a bronze chair in Belfast to celebrate the
fact and his achievements. I found out about it the usual way these days,
Google. I cycled to find it and did so delightfully.
Google
also told me that C.S. Lewis died the same day as John F. Kennedy was
assassinated; 22nd of November 1963.
As
well as all of the Narnia books there is another C.S Lewis book that I read
regularly, The Great Divorce. Now those who know me may think that my interest
is due to my having unfortunately had two divorces yet the book is about the
great divorce between Heaven and Purgatory, the afterlife. The concepts of
humanity each chapter contains within the book has always fascinated me. The
narrator takes a bus to Heaven and there meets a variety of people each posing
a moral challenge to him over who should be accepted into Paradise.
Leaving
Mr Lewis behind, I cycled down to the docks; the docks where Titanic had been
built from 1909-11. Now Titanic the film, the Leonardo DiCaprio & Kate
Winslet epic, is a film I cannot watch. How one can get romantically interested
in a couple when thousands of people are dead from becoming frozen, bobbing
like corks in the Atlantic is beyond me, and I am sure there was room on Kate's
plank for one more!
Anyway
I cycled straight through the area because birds were on my mind.
In through the gates and security fences that surround the RSPB Reserve, Belfast Lough; one is immediately made welcome inside the visitor's centre with an offer of scones and coffee for free.
A new warden to meet, the diminutive, denim clad Chris. I hope he will not be offended by my calling him such for he may be small in stature but he had bags of personality and was a truly fabulously brilliant bloke. Although Chris was busy when I arrived, this gave me time to watch the hundreds of terns on the man-made platforms, with remarkably close views of the adults and young through close-circuit TV. Also there were scones and coffee available from some of the lovely RSPB volunteers.
Off
we went to look around other areas outside of the fences that surround the
reserve, areas looking mostly like derelict land, which I suppose they are,
derelict from the ravages of development anyway but areas with great wildlife
potential.
I will always have as one of my favourite photographs of the year the one of Chris standing outside his car, its CD player blasting out classic rock music and Chris standing beside it, wearing blue denims and shirt, with a cigarette in his hand and a huge laughing smile on his face.
The
diversity of RSPB personal personified.
Chris & I were joined by the lovely Stephanie Sims, a RSPB communications officer for more photos.
Now
one of the ladies in the centre had insisted that I stayed the night at her
house as a guest of hers and her husband. So after cycling the few miles east
of the city I found the house and enjoyed typical Northern Ireland hospitality.
The evening had been arranged for me to meet Stephanie Sims again, the Northern Ireland RSPB media correspondent.
Another drinking hole location in Central Belfast was found after I had explored the city centre a bit.
I had seen a brilliant cycling parade going around the main streets just before meeting Stephanie. Dozens of people cycling on a wide variety of different bikes, some in fancy dress; the bikes and the riders!
After
an hour or so chatting, Stephanie invited me to see the city by going for a
ride in her car. It felt strange to be taking carbon transport again and even
stranger to see the ghetto-like streets in some of the more notorious areas.
Murals and immense walls created to divide Belfast's people. Religious
sectarianism was still apparent, disappointingly so. I cannot help but think
that the best place for the murals would be in a museum, assigned to history. A community of sharing is stronger.
Tickle My Feathers
No comments:
Post a Comment