Up and down the Cootehill road…
I cannot believe I’m admitting this, much less committing it to print! Deep breath – I AM A EUROVISION SONG CONTEST FAN. Although a somewhat lapsed one of late.
I write this because in recent days, the universe of Cavan has thrust Eurovision back into my orbit when it literally landed two notable contests back into my space, man (see what I did there ‘Space Man’ the UKs most recently successful song by Sam Ryder).
When I was young, it was the musical highlight of my year. In the early days I’d watch it with my sister Maria. With my move to Cavan, it became a solo event. Mam and Dad had zero interest in all things Eurovision; and anyway, their Saturday nights were spent in Eddie O’Gormon’s public house. 1979 was a notable year; for I really liked the Irish entry. A Cork man, Cathal Dunne, was to sing a bouncy ballad titled: Happy Man. During a preview show, Terry Wogan complimented the song, making special mention of Cathal’s strong voice – my hopes were high.
Cathal sung fourth; at the end of the night he finished fifth. His song may not have won; but on the sartorial-stage, he was my winner. That summer I was attending a fashionable wedding, and I wanted to replicate his outfit of white shirt with billowing sleeves, teamed with a black waistcoat. I showed Mam a picture hoping she’d find something similar, “That’s not a shirt, it’s a blouse, you’ll not get the likes of that in Cavan.”
But, she hopefully suggested, “Post that on to Maria, she’ll get something like it in Manchester.” And thus, I attended the wedding in a high-street version of Cathal Dunne’s Eurovision ensemble – Happy Lad.
Leap forward 45 years. Sunday morning, I’m walking up the Cootehill road when a car stops; it’s a couple I’ve met via a weekly breakfast group I attend. They’re interesting people with fascinating life-stories that engage me hugely. I’m always beguiled by Anna’s timeless beauty and tales of her modelling and fashion career in 70s’ Dublin. Over coffee that morning I asked her, “What was Dublin’s fashion world like?” I became immersed in her narrative; then my skin began to prickle with recognition as she spoke of her transition from model to fashion designer, “At the time I was engaged to a musician, he was competing in the Eurovision Song Contest that year, I designed and made his outfit…”
Instinctively I began to sing, “I’m in love and I’m alive, Happy Man…” To which Anna replied with a huge smile, “He wrote the song about me.”
Little did I know when I asked mam to source me a coveted outfit, that decades later I’d be conversing with its designer and creator; and muse for one of my favourite Eurovision songs. It was a lovely circular-life-moment.
The following Sunday I was walking down the Cootehill road. A woman walked towards me. I recognised her as a past school friend. I’m not accustomed to seeing her on this well-trodden road; we began talking. School anecdotes were swapped. She’s unchanged, the same warm and gentle soul whom I sat beside in English class. I remembered her beautiful singing voice in her family band; and in later years she was a popular singer on the Cavan circuit (and still is).
Then – BAM! I realised the humble woman standing in front of me had stood on one of the world’s largest stages and sung to a global audience of hundreds of millions of people – in the 1997 Eurovision Song Contest.
My London Eurovision parties were quite the thing, and watching the ‘97 contest with friends I was drawn to the mysterious woman whose warm voice added nuance to Marc Roberts rendition of his song ‘Mysterious Woman’.
I’ve no doubt her vocals elevated the song to second place that night. Little did I know that my mysterious Eurovision woman was the girl I sat next to at school - another circular-life-moment.
RTÉ is currently inviting entries for next year’s Eurovision Song Contest. I might convert this column to song and submit ‘Up and down the Cootehill road.’
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