Sometimes pragmatism is a hard medicine to take . A week or so ago ,DUP Health Minister Jim Wells, in his first appearance after the sacking of Poots, conceded that the only viable option for the treatment of heart disease in children was to use the facilities in Dublin. It was a practical decision.This hardly went down like honey or ambrosia in a party brimming with hatred and loathing for anything “Southern Irish Republican” , especially when within days the First Minister refused to appear at the start of the Resolution Non-Talks , lest he might be tainted in a photo-op with a southern politician.Already, the backwoodsmen and navel-gazers were having conniptions behind the scenes and on the odd radio rant..
Listen up though.This train has been coming down the tracks for long, long years now.It’s just that a lot of people in Norneverland have refused to go near the station.
When did you last buy a book in a bookshop or a cd in a local record shop? I know for myself, locally, it was long ago and I’m talking over forty years ago .In my case,it was an impossibility to quickly source the kinds of books and music I really wanted to buy at a local level. Of course, that’s partly because I do not live in a large city where I can readily source a cornucopia of products to please all sorts of diverse tastes. For that reason , most of what I have ever bought was by post or on occasional visits to the city or a nearby larger town.Of course , the physical product has gradually been superceded by ebooks and downloads . For all of that there is a vinyl revival underway and many still enjoy the physical appeal of a well-bound book.
I could go right back to when Richard Branson started up his Virgin company selling records from the back pages of the “New Musical Express” adverts in the late 1960s and early 1970s. I bought Jack Bruce’s “Harmony Row” from him and also some of the first American imports by Jefferson Airplane.Alongside the download , I enjoy seeing the “real deal” in my hands. The physical presence.
The changes were gradually coming for many years…. long before Virgin Megastores and Virgin in Space. Just over a decade ago ,the internet then opened up an entire world with Amazon .Anyone can simply type in the title of the book , music…anything and as Bob would say ..”I’m your uncle”. For the most part this process relies on the postal services and is so easy by comparison to the old way. Shops in towns have been forced to provide better service and to specialise to compete . It’s a healthy thing ,in as much as it hopefully makes people more imaginative when selling their products.. Before Amazon I would search through catalogues for things I really wanted and for the most part , they were never available locally.
Last week I went for a few things in the IKEA store . I noticed some time ago that this huge warehouse is so extensive that they had to build it right beside the George Best airport …possibly for ease of supply. The turnover in the place is extraordinary too. They have door-opening loss-leaders that would make any provincial shop-owner burst into tears . Wine -glasses and towels for a pound! What’s not to like? These huge businesses are only symptomatic of what is happening on a global scale and even in local politics and health services. On a small island like Ireland it makes sense to centralise some services such as health care and government . Already some services are being shared pragmatically between the North and the South and it makes perfect sense , given that Belfast and Dublin are really only mere hours apart. The internet has made us all believe that we are all a common humanity, in any case, so more and more , territorial borders are becoming a mental irrelevance.
It’s really only a matter of time before we will all think in terms of a united world …never mind a united Ireland . Now, if only we could get that local rail -link restored .Some clot called Beeching decided it would be a great idea to remove it and train links throughout the UK , back in the 1950s .He certainly hadn’t his sights set on future globalisation.He didn’t see that train coming down the tracks.
Your title today, Esteemed Blogmeister, is definitely on the right track. And brought back many clap-happy memories of another historic train from Belfast, the Norn Iron Horse which delivered condoms and pandemonium in equal measure and openly into Dublin for the first time.
Full of Nells, bells, whistles, bristles and Jezebels dispelling swell smells, there was only one class on that particular train – the Dworkin Class – and it was truly the stuff of which puff-puff legends are made if not born.
Appropriately, as French letters featured prominently in the held-aloft hands of the Plain Janespotters on arrival the name of the station was thoughtfully changed back to its original ‘Amiens Street Station’ for the day, though in this instance it did not refer to the Treaty of 1802 but rather to the Battle of 1918 which led to the 100 Days Offensive which led to the Hun being overrun.
Significantly many of the Nells and Jezebels were seen to be wearing Classical French Tortoiseshell Claw Teeth Hair Combs as well. These accessories were varnished to such a glassy extent that they it gave them a sleek finish and a sturdy hold. Though, in truth, the sleek finish proved impossible for some of the travellers. Nevertheless, The Dworkin Class has had a sturdy hold on the Free Southern Stateen ever since.
That ought to provide ample encouragement for all those onion-domed Unonists who doubt the swellegant idea of Jim Wells. It may even leave them with not, erm, far t’ go to agree with him. And, seeing that Cash is the currency they best understand, the train which would transport them down to Dublin could be known by no other name than, of course, ‘The Orange Blossom Special’.
Chick-a-boom, chick-a-boom, chick-a boom.
The name of their station of arrival in Dublin might cause a problem but not one which is not insurmountable. It is now titled ‘Connolly Station’ and while there would be no French Letters to be viewed aloft on this occasion there would of course be official documents in Scots-Ulster in evidence. Bells and thistles, as it were..
Pas de probleme, dit Pourquoi de Warbeck.
After all, James Connolly after whom the station is named was an Edinburgh man by birth. Not good enough? Alright, try this: call it for the day after another Scotsman, this one a native of Glasgow: Billy Connolly. Not only is he a wee sleekit timorous cowering beastie when it comes to ye Queen of Balmoral but he is the very best Better Together laddie there is on Planet Tartan. A gas man, entirely. So, ‘Connolly Station’ in honour of Billy boy it will be on the day.
Look-a yonder comin’
Comin’ down the Railroad Track
Hey, look-a yonder comin’
Comin’ down the Railroad Track
It’s the Orange Blossom Special
Bringing my Babybush back.
The Trainspotters will find the Free Southern Stateen a very warm house indeed. For within the 26 Counties there do dwell innumerable Sleepers (from the Yawnaiste down) who have been patiently biding their time in the Waiting Room of History for just this day so they can welcome their separated breds with this genial greeting: Welcome home, Chicky Heads !
Chick-a-boom, chick-a-boom, chick-a-boom.