Charlie Bird, boy and man

Charlie Bird, the former RTÉ journalist, died yesterday. I knew him in 1966-67 and then again, very briefly, in 2011.

In 1966-67, I taught in a Dublin school called Sandymount High School. Charlie was one of my students, and I can say without fear of contradiction that he was one of the weakest students I ever taught English to.  But somehow it didn’t matter to him or anyone else that he was as far from studious as you could get: he had a ready smile and charm that left all the girls in the class half in love with him and maybe some of the boys as well. 

That was the 1960s. In 2011, Queen Elizabeth II got everyone – well, nearly everyone –  in Ireland very excited by coming for a visit. This was at a time when I was yet to become persona non grata in the BBC. Stephen Nolan did his BBC Radio Five Live programme from Dublin on the big day, and sent word that he’d like me to contribute. Ever obedient, I headed down to Dublin.

There, I was told I’d have to get a press pass in the press centre in Dublin Castle. I’d never had one of these before so I was quite pleased with myself and was heading out of the centre. At the door as I was about to go out, Charlie Bird was in front of me about to go in.

“Ah – hello, Charlie!” I said. 

Clearly identifying me as one of his many fans, Charlie responded with “Oh – how are ya”.

“I used to teach you, Charlie” I told him. “Back in 1966-67. In Sandyount High School”.

“That’s right – I went to Sandymount High! What did you teach?”

“English” I told him. 

“English…” Charlie said thoughtfully. “What did you say your name was?”

“Collins” I said. “Jude Collins”.

Charlie thought hard. “Collins, Collins…”  Then he looked at me as if I might be an imposter. “No, I don’t remember any teacher called Collins…”

They say you never forget a good teacher. 

Ar dheis Dé go raibh a anam.