Currently cruising at a speed of 450mph some 29,000 feet above the west of England. We passed over Liverpool a couple of minutes ago. We’ll be at Stansted in around half an hour.
Obviously I shan’t be posting this in real time. My iPad is in flight mode and I don’t know if I’ll find time to upload this when I get home. Celia and I are returning from a short trip across the water. A trip bookended by delays at both airports. We were an extra two hours in departures on the way out, an hour at Belfast.
It was only thanks to Fiona, disguised as an Angel in a red car, that we got to our first event in time. She met us at the bus station, drove us to our accommodation and then onto the Heaney Centre where the three of us took our seats for the last event of a week celebrating the opening of the new building. For those of you who watch Blue Lights, or who have seen An Irish Goodbye, Seamus O’Hara’s face will be familiar. He had the job of reading some of Seamus Heaney’s poetry as well as other writings from the archive held by Queen’s University. The man who linked everything together was Stephen Connelly. Insight, humour, performance and erudition combined in a wonderful hour.
Fiona had to leave promptly as she had a meeting, but Celia and I each accepted a glass of wine and mingled with the audience and hosts. We didn’t speak to Glenn Patterson who is the centre’s director and who introduced the event, but quite amazingly Stephen Connolly and Seamus O’Hara joined us and chatted with us for a good ten minutes. If they have egos, they were well hidden. Both were modest, relaxed and altogether delightful. We left in the still light evening. It was warm, so we decided to walk to our B&B. A blue plaque recording a one time home of John Hewitt had to be recorded and admired. We reached Botanic Avenue which we needed to cross to continue our walk to our temporary home.
Celia has often heard me wax lyrical about the bookshop No Alibis. If we turned left instead of crossing the road we would be there, though by now it was around eight o’clock so it would surely be closed. It was open. There was an event, a book launch. A man beckoned us inside. Celia demurred. We hadn’t been invited and moreover, surely the clinching argument, we had never heard of the book, or indeed the author. That, it appeared, was immaterial. It would have been been rude to refuse an invitation reissued still more warmly. We could not ignore this gift the gods were placing in our hands.
We crossed the threshold. More wine in hand, we moved through the throng towards the back of the shop where it seemed quieter. My mouth dropped open when I recognised Jan Carson. She smiled at me. I needed no more encouragement and soon we were into our second conversation of the evening with a Belfast luminary. Quite simply Jan Carson is lovely. My earlier impression that she would be a great person with whom to share a bottle of wine was confirmed. And this time we actually had wine. She was there to introduce the writer, he-of-whom-we-had-not-heard, Phil Harrison. There were about six seats and the rest was standing room only. Celia got one of the seats. I am hoping to see her picture on No Alibis site any day soon.
The reading left us wanting more. Phil seemed both a good writer and a very nice man, so naturally we each left with a book by him. I got his first novel, Celia the new one. We walked to our little house in a state of happy amazement.
And so began our weekend.
Isobel (and Cat)'s Blog 
🚗🚗🚗
It’s the 👼
I love the types of get-aways that allow for serendipitous joys like the one you described. It sounds like you and Celia are very compatible companions. I think I would like her, based on the dubious connection of my mother having the name Cecilia.
I suspect you would. Celia is a very likeable person. I think you’d like Cecilia too. She is our Bellaghy landlady who has become a friend.