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I came across another great Brendan Behan story this week from a book by Dr Mary Joyce Leader, Case Histories of Famous Irish Writers. A long-overdue publication citing the disease and medical complaints of the scribes of our green and sainted isle. And in that volume, she quotes a story from the autobiography of TV personality Michael Parkinson, who came to Dublin at one stage to interview Behan. At the time he was a successful playwright, and two of his plays had gained him an international reputation. Parky met Behan in a pub on London’s Fleet Street when he walked in with a rope attached to his waist, which in turn was attached to a blind man he had found begging on the streets of London. He announced to the landlord, a friend of his, that this was a case of the blind leading the blind drunk. Shortly after this, he collapsed and was taken to hospital where he was told if he didn’t stop drinking, he would die. He was also advised that his teeth were in need of an urgent attention as they were poisoning his system, whereupon, or so Parkinson was told, the Express arranged for him to have a set of false teeth made, at considerable cost. The story now was that he had stayed off the booze and was back home in Dublin prior to leaving for New York to launch a production of The Hostage. So the gig was to write a positive piece for the Express about Brendan’s battle with the booze, and oh, and by the way, check out the false teeth! The man who met Parkinson at Dublin airport looked energetic and clear-eyed, but was clearly missing at least a dozen teeth. Parky thought he would broach the subject straight away. The conversation started – “Nice to meet you, Brendan, the Express would like to know what happened to our false teeth?” He said he couldn’t get on with them, but they had been transferred to a friend of his who sold linen handkerchiefs on O’Connell street and they should pay him a visit. The man was easily recognisable because Brendan’s teeth were too large for his mouth, which was stretched into a permanent rictus grin. Moreover, he had to take them out to speak and tell how generous Brendan had been. Behan died of diabetes and alcoholism at the age of 41. *************** A new waking route has been officially opened at St John’s Community Hospital campus in Enniscorthy, providing a fresh outdoor amenity for patients, staff and visitors. Centred around the green areas on the southern side of the HSE campus on Munster Hill, the pathway is the latest addition to St John’s ongoing ‘healthy campus’ initiative. The route complements the site’s recently opened creative garden — a community facility featuring an amphitheatre-style area, planting, and seating. The walking route was opened by Dr Denise Rogers, Senior Clinical Psychologist with Child Disability Services, who chairs the St John’s Healthy Campus group. The initiative, begun in 2020, has developed several outdoor wellbeing projects on site with the support of HSE Health and Wellbeing. Derval Howley, Head of Service for Health and Wellbeing, HSE Dublin and South East, said the new facility ‘supports physical and mental health for everyone on campus, aligning with the goals of Healthy Ireland’. A staff fitness and activation day marked the opening, while Tom Wall, Clinical Nurse Specialist, praised HSE grounds staff, CE workers and the local Men’s Shed for their contributions to the project. *************** This week, we’re all about the walking: The world leading expert on wasps is walking down the street when he passes a record store. In the window he sees a record called “Wasps of the world, and the sounds they make”. Intrigued, he walks into the store. He says to the shopkeeper “I’ll have that wasp record in the window please. You know I’m the world’s leading expert in wasps, there are thousands of different species of wasp, and I can identify any one of them just by listening to the sound it makes!” He smiles smugly as the shopkeeper fakes interest. The wasp expert pays and leaves. When he gets home he puts the record on. “Bbzzzzzzzzz” it goes, but the man is stumped, he doesn’t know what type of wasp this is! He waits for the next track. “Bbbbzzzzzzzzzzzz” and again, he can’t identify which species of wasp this is! It gets to the fifth track and he breaks down in tears. He can’t identify a single wasp yet he thought he was the world’s leading expert! He calls his old professor round to the house to help, when he arrives he explains to him, “I thought I was the best in the wasp business, but I can’t identify a single wasp on this whole record!” He says, still in tears. The old professor ponders for a minute as he looks at the record. “Ah, I know what the problem is” says the professor. “What? what is it?!” -“You’ve got it on the Bee-side” *************** What a pleasure to hear from an old colleague who happened to have visited the Edward Worth library on Culture night. The book-collection assembled by Edward Worth (1676-1733), a notable Dublin physician, is one of the treasures of Dublin’s cultural inheritance. It is housed in Dr Steevens’ Hospital, an institution of which Worth was a governor and major benefactor. Worth was a physician whose taste in books radiated outwards from his professional concern with medicine. He collected as a man of science, a gentleman, and a connoisseur. Beside medical books, ancient and modern (ie. 18th century), one finds important contributions to the study of related sciences, then philosophy, the classics, history etc. Worth was particularly interested in the book as object: the collection not only holds fine examples of sixteenth-century typography but is also considered to be the best collection of early modern book bindings in Ireland. Following Worth’s death in February 1733, his fellow governors moved promptly to protect the books bequeathed to them under his will. A room was specially designed and built to accommodate them on the first floor of an as-yet unfinished building. Though visiting scholars over the centuries and decades have witnessed a succession of historic styles in movable furniture, the original book-shelves, cases, glass-panes and other fittings remain as they were in the 1730s. Indeed, the Edward Worth Library was probably the first in Ireland to protect books behind glass-fronted doors. Worth a visit, I am assured by my old friend.
