I was in Derry on October 13, 1994, the day when Protestant paramilitary commands joined in the Sinn Fein ceasefire and a tentative peace came to Northern Ireland. In that pretty town, reminiscent of Dunedin, people were not dancing in the streets, or saying anything that would be remembered later, but they were filled with an immense simple relief and the beginnings of hope. Celebrations were often personal and private; a man spoke of taking his dog for a walk right across the city, as he had not been able to do for a generation.
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
A Working Forest by Les Murray (not the soccer analyst, the poet)
I was actually whiling away time at a kids' party when I picked up a recent Les Murray poetry collection and started reading. I was startled by how good it was. The book I've got now is a collection chosen from all his published prose. It is also excellent, but I haven't got far yet. I just want to quote this though;