Wednesday, 7 April 2010

Bloody Sunday report - quelle surprise

There can be little surprise about the news that the publication of the Bloody Sunday report has been postponed until after the general election. As the BBC regional political correspondent Paul Rowley reminded us again on Radio Foyle this morning, he's been predicting 6th May as the date for the past year. This date has been long pencilled in on the government's timeline of events, and the little drama of 'It will, it won't' in relation to the Saville Report has been played out just according to the script.

That's all very well for the politicians, who always prefer to toss a hot potato in the laps of their successors in power, but it's cynical in how it deals with the families of those murdered and injured on Bloody Sunday. Once again their hopes have been raised and dashed, adding further to the anguish and strain they've suffered over many years.

Thursday, 1 April 2010

Yes, it's been months . . .

.  . . and since I blocked those emails from the bathroomware company there doesn't seem to be much to report - other than real news, of course.

Belfast Telegraph were in touch today looking for some crystal-ball gazing in terms of the Foyle constituency. After considerable thought and research, one could only reach the conclusion that anything other than a win for Mark Durkan or Martina Anderson will be the shock of the election. Still, it would be some coup for Journal columnist Eamonn McCann to lift the Foyle seat at this stage of his political career.

Lots happening over in BBC Radio Foyle and a good bit of chat about the departures of The Voice of Derry, Paul McFadden, and another highly-experienced journo Eimear O'Callaghan. At the same time there's an advert in today's paper for 'Editor, BBC Radio Foyle'. Looks like the station manager's job, occupied so many luminaries over the years, Joe Mahon, Mickey McGowan, Poilin Ni Chiarain, Anna Leddy and others, most recently Paul McCauley, is no more.
Bit of a cold wind blowing along Northland Road at the moment . . .

Easter on the way, and with it lots of cappucinos, crisps and meat, sadly missed over the past six weeks (apart from that wee trip to Brussels - Lent doesn't apply on mainland Europe, done away with by the Reformation apparently). Might try to get to the Paul Brady concert on Saturday. Met Robert Peoples at lunchtime and he was telling me that Balkan Alien Sound are playing in Rodden's on Saturday night, so that could be an option for after. Great Sound it is, and further proof that Derry's getting more cosmopolitan by the minute.

Re-reading 'Four Iron in the Soul' (well, didn't realise I was re-reading it until after the first forty pages or so) by our own Laurence Donegan, the Guardian's golf correspondent whose career went so sadly downhill after he left the Tirconnail Tribune. Only play golf on Journal golf outings - which seem to be a thing of the past, is everyone that old? - but the book's still good fun.

What else is new? Well, our reporter Claire Allan was on BBC Radio Foyle (sort of theme developing here) this morning talking about how much she'd like to see a woman editor at the Journal. At which point a loud voice was heard over the station tannoy - 'Taxi for Allan'. Former Journal reporter Chris McCann, who initially sounded a bit nervous as the only man in a studio of woman discussing 'Women in Journalism', soon found his feet and counter-attacked along the flanks (or maybe that was the Arsenal v Barcelona game last night - 'What a first half display by Barca!', I heard a female voice intone while, as Chris mentioned on radio, simultaneously feeding the wain, vacuuming the living room, telephoning an old school-friend and re-reading 'A Room of One's Own'. If there's one thing men can't manage it's multi-tasking. . .)

Please hold there for a sec while I concentrate on this cup of tea.

Lovely. Anyway, there you have it, all the news that's fit to print. And in this multi-media world, here's a pic, yes, any pic . .


The winning shot in the Derry and North-West Frisbee competiton at the weekend, from Hugh F. Ough (silent 'g') of outer Moville.