Alas, I have a dirty secret that I must confess. Every time I visit Belfast, I feel a strange compulsion to visit one of the thirteen Greggs outlets located in the city to secure my flaky fix of cheap, greasy sausage rolls and steak bakes.
As a resident of the Free State, the distinct absence of the Tyneside chain down here has inspired both a sense of deep-seated resentment and tantalising, indulgent fantasies involving the enjoyment of pork-filled pastries south of the border.
For a brief moment last weekend, however, while attending the highest-attended Fleadh Cheoil na hÉireann in Belfast, I felt that my lard-laden dreams might actually be coming true.
With the rousing sound of jigs and reels emanating from the Gig Rig opposite the imposing, neo-Baroque Belfast City Hall, I sauntered through the doors of Greggs for some savoury treats to help line my stomach for a night of ballad-singing and black porter. Caught up in the excitement of the occasion, I couldn’t resist turning around to the lad in the queue beside me to proclaim my love for the various products on offer.
“We don’t have this in Cork either - it’s f*cking brilliant, boy!”, he eagerly replied in an unmistakably thick, high-pitched accent from the Rebel county.
It was at this moment it occurred to me that, for the first time ever, most of the people whose accents I could overhear in Greggs, and right across the city, were from the Republic. How bizarre!
I have always enjoyed visiting Belfast in both a personal and professional capacity (before I started working with the Advertiser, I regularly submitted freelance articles to The Belfast Telegraph ). Despite this, I have always been keenly aware of the sense of unresolved trauma and tension in the city - resulting in a hyperawareness of certain things, like my accent or topic of conversation, when interacting with other people.
When I attended the Fleadh this year, however, it was probably the first time ever in my life when I would have described the atmosphere in Belfast as relaxed, confident and at peace with itself - everyone appeared content simply to experience the joy of music together.
Indeed, a record 1.6 million people from all over the world are estimated to have visited the city last week for that very reason. It really was an absolute delight to wander through the teeming streets, thronged with people young and old, from all kinds of backgrounds, sharing in the happiness found in our music, song and dance.
Notably, Belfast - which is usually fairly grimy at the best of times - was also the cleanest I have ever seen it. Two power-washing teams were reportedly deployed across the city each morning and 120 people dealt with litter and bins throughout the day (maybe a similar approach is needed in Galway to deal with the curse of pavement porridge plaguing the streets here ).
The only minor source of controversy reported in the media appears to be a video circulating online of a pro-IRA song emanating from a burger van. Presumably, the operator of the van in question was urging “every man to stand behind the men behind the fryer.”
Much of my time at the Fleadh was spent attending the various singing sessions on the top floor of Belfast’s Europa Hotel - which claims the title of being the most bombed hotel in the world.
It was difficult to verify this claim, but I can confirm that the price of Guinness there cost an absolute bomb - exceeding the equivalent of ten euro! Edward Carson may so far have been successful in his attempts to steer Belfast clear of Dublin rule, however, it is clear that Dublin prices are beginning to creep into the city.
Despite this, I very much enjoyed the session in the Europa and was grateful to have the opportunity to once again meet many friends from various parts of Ireland who I’ve met over the years through music and haven’t seen in a long time.
I even entered two of the competitions in Belfast - Singing in Irish and Newly Composed Song in Irish - and am happy to report that I came second in the latter category.
Overall, the Fleadh was a great success and all involved in organising such a massive event thoroughly deserve to be congratulated.
One of the things I have always loved about traditional music is its apparent simplicity. Despite the various kinds of complicated arrangements and uses of technology found in many modern musical genres, there is something just very natural about being able to simply sing a song, play a tune on an instrument, or dance to an upbeat rhythm.
Perhaps it was this simplicity that had the power to bring joy to a city that has certainly had its troubles. Who needs sex, drugs and rock ‘n’ roll when you’ve got jigs, reels and sausage rolls?
