I Should Have Been Canadian


In the van close to Derry City, Tuesday September 19th, 2017

Terra Lightfoot in the stereo. We didn’t find Murder Hole beach, despite the poetic directions of left at the cow, right when you feel a strong breeze. Loaded up on fruit and vegetables this morning. I ate some terrible food at a petrol station an hour from letterkenny yesterday. I’m sorry arteries, please accept these offerings as a token of apology. The roads are quiet. Mood is good. The gigs so far have been enjoyable but I need to be selling more CDs. I hope the first few ones are not an indication of things to come. It seems to be national trim the hedges along the side of the road day.

On the way to Belfast. Three ducks flying over Belfast. The first one goes, “Quack”, the second one goes “Quack”, the third one goes, “I’m going as quack as I can!”

Welcome to Northern Ireland sign with the Northern scratched out.

Belfast tonight. I wonder if I should sing the James Connolly song?

Terra Lightfoot is very good alright. Mac got her CD at her gig at our friend Kylie’s cafe, The Blue Bird in Edinburgh. “See You in the Morning”.

I notice the cd thanks the the Canadian Government, the Canada Music fund, the Department of Canadian Heritage and the Ontario Media Development corporation and the Ontario Arts Council.

I should have been Canadian.

Sometime later, somewhere else, still in the van.

I’m drinking what is a certainly a contender for the worst coffee I have ever put my lips to. And still I am drinking it. What the fuck is wrong with me?

E-bow the Letter REM featuring Patti Smith on the radio.

Still more blue skies. Ireland dressing up nice for us. I realise I have no sterling. Bollox.

Signs on the side of the road rejecting a post Brexit hard border between the Republic and the North. The Yield signs have become ‘Give Way’ signs. Green signs become blue. Kilometers become Miles. Sheep tagged red and blue. My phone welcomes me to the United Kingdom. I was in the Gaeltacht this morning. I am not in the Gaeltacht now.
Approaching Belfast. We know the names of your Northern towns from the spilled blood of our childhood years. We heard them on the news. I was a child. It was a world away from Cork. And only a couple of hundred miles.


Bangor, September the day after yesterday’s date, 2017

The American Bar in Belfast is a fine venue. It was however very quiet. I’m in Bangor now, where I just had a free shower at the YMCA. It is all glamour kids. The rain has remembered it lives here and returned home. It is a truly miserable day and I am fitting in just fine.

Wooo woo.

Oh, and there was a painting of James Connolly on the same block as the bar so I deduced it was okay to sing the James Connolly song.

Playing at Fealty’s tonight. I love that place.




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