Vad gör man inte för tv-kritiker?
Categories: UncategorizedTuesday, May 19, 2020
Underbar anekdot jag just fick från en gammal vän C. från min tid i Dublin 1971-72. Detta apropå en historia i The G om hur irländarna finner tröst i poesiläsning under krisen (som de egentligen alltid gjort). Där nämns poeten Pearce Hutchinson, som jag kommer ihåg rätt väl från O’Leary’s och andra tillhåll. Vännen C. skriver:
Notice the mention of Pearce Hutchinson. He was an eccentric poet in old Gaelic & Spanish, strange man & gay as all get out. The lovely R. was a buddy & he came over all the time to watch television. See, he had somehow been given the lofty gig of being a television critic for the Irish Times. It seemed only in Ireland could a man be the leading newspaper’s television critic and not feel required to arrange his own television. So he’d come over with a full pack of Guinness for his own consumption & negotiate with R’s girls who wanted to watch Starsky & Hutch while he had some kind of intellectual BBC show to watch & review. It was hilarious to be in on the negotiations & amazing that R., with an ailing mother & 2 small children to manage, still had time & energy to be a support & friend to some of the arts flotsam floating about Dublin town in search of a Bohemian Embassy.
May 19th, 2020 at 9:44 pm
Underbart roligt. Jag känner mig lite irländsk nu, eftersom jag i flera år, även som aktiv journalist, efter att ha lämnat den beryktade Tidskriftsverkstaden, gärna lånade mina grannvänners TV, men framförallt deras datorer och online capacities. Och när jag själv äntligen skaffade en laptop sa jag: Det är som att ha fått in djävulen i sitt hem. Lika sant idag.
May 20th, 2020 at 6:55 pm
Gabrielle, då kanske du har nöje av detta. Jag svarade C så här:
Glorious…! I remember seeing him (or I think it was him) in O’Leary’s in Dublin, the poets’ pub. Was it him who got a job teaching poetry at Leeds Uni in England, and accepted, but couldn’t be persuaded to leave Dublin, until his many mates got him so pissed he had to be poured onto the plane at the airport…? Except he returned a week later.
Jesus, these people! All poets, but not a line written among them for the last thirty years…
May 20th, 2020 at 9:15 pm
Just det, lite för mycket pub och pladder, är väl den andra sidan av Irland. Som gör att jag aldrig raggar där ; )