IMRO, Let's Go

Around noon today I was on Pembroke Row in Dublin, checking out the natty refurb job on the IMRO offices. The carpet was luxuriant, the furniture was swish and the audio-visual bobbins were all blinking with style. In comes the Irish President Mary McAleese, accompanied by a lady in military regalia and IMRO chairman Keith Donald. The President makes a strong speech about music copyright, the prevalence of Irish songwriters and the importance of getting these people their dues in a volatile age. Everyone nods. She sums up the moment and she notes, with some approval, that the lawyers are also getting plenty of work out of the process. Paul Brady is in the house and during Mary's exit from the building, she stops for a three way conversation with himself and Keith. A Dublin journalist suddenly notices something: the Nordies are collectively holding their own.

On the train back, I look behind to see the poet Michael Longley, deep in thought in Second Class. He is surrounded by industrious types in pinstripe attire, toiling over laptops and hand-held devices. Michael has a neatly ruled notebook and a big old pen. He asks for a coffee from the hospitality trolly. The voice is astounding. It has authority and a sonorous grace. He makes conversation about a Kit Kat sound like something from the Trojan Wars. When I grow up, I want to be like that.