James’ Paddyssey
The Quest For A Birmingham Patrick’s Day Celebration
On the 14th February this year, the Birmingham Irish Association announced that the St. Patrick’s Day parade that was due to take place in a month’s time would no longer be going ahead, citing funding and safety issues.
Following this announcement, a number of venues in Digbeth stepped
forward to offer an alternative to the festivities. “The parade might not be going ahead, but the party is far from over!”, declares one of the promotional posts for the event. Can these venues faithfully replace the loss of culture caused by the cancellation of the parade, or is the whole thing just an attempt to make sure all the Guinness they pre-ordered gets sold?
The thing that struck me the most at last year’s parade was just how transformative the event was for the southern side of Digbeth – in particular, Bradford Street. The road was unrecognisable, changing from being just the place that the 50 goes down to a genuinely bustling city centre street, with music and noise and families and an overall sense of a positive community. All of the participants of the parade were beaming with pride and joy as they marched and danced towards the city centre, waving their flags and playing their instruments. Children stood at the barriers with their faces painted, carrying balloons and waving as the colourful procession passed by in front of them. Standing in the crowd, you genuinely felt as if you were part of something bigger than yourself. The parade served as a reminder not only of the Irish heritage which can still be found throughout the city, but also of the community that we all share here in Birmingham, regardless of background.
Unfortunately, this year did not feel the same. Walking around the Irish Quarter at one o’clock on St. Patrick’s Day, the last thing you expect to hear is exactly what I was initially met with – silence. The streets were no busier than a weekday and if you weren’t paying attention, you might
not have even seen the decorations.
Heading towards the first sound of music, I arrived at the Old
Crown to a live performance of ‘Take Me Home, Country Roads’ – the celebration of Irish culture was not off to a great start. I looped back through an empty Custard Factory with the vague notion that maybe I would find some of the Irish dancers from last year had returned and were intent on performing, regardless of what the council had to say. I instead was met with more silence, the only indication of the day’s celebrations being a single AutoBrew advert, tempting me with self- serve Guinness.
Undeterred, I pressed on to the place I knew would have what I was looking for: the unapologetically Irish Norton’s. From my understanding, they were one of the venues which had spearheaded this
attempt to continue the festivities without the parade and so my hopes were high for what I would find there.
The music got louder and louder as I approached, so far so good. It wasn’t long before I could make out the song that was being played – an acoustic rendition of Shania Twain’s ‘Man! I Feel Like A Woman!’.
At this point I had truly lost hope. I didn’t have a ticket for any of the ticketed events, and I didn’t feel like getting patted down by a bouncer just for the sake of being slightly closer to the acoustic covers of American songs. I had come with the hope of seeing at least a fraction of the community and culture that was on display a year prior. I was instead met with a typical Sunday in Digbeth, the only difference being a higher than usual proportion of green clothing. Tail between my legs, I returned home to mourn the city’s loss.
Fifty years on from one of if not the lowest points in Birmingham’s relationship with the Irish community, this year’s St. Patrick’s Day should have been one to remember, celebrating how far the
city’s Irish community has come and how much they have been through. Instead, the festivities were cancelled due to financial mismanagement at the council and the Irish community were left to celebrate only the parts of their culture which can be sold or ticketed.
Will next year be any different? Will the council have learned their lessons and properly planned for the event? Or will the parade, like
so many other parts of Birmingham’s rich culture, be left by the wayside?
Following this announcement, a number of venues in Digbeth stepped
forward to offer an alternative to the festivities. “The parade might not be going ahead, but the party is far from over!”, declares one of the promotional posts for the event. Can these venues faithfully replace the loss of culture caused by the cancellation of the parade, or is the whole thing just an attempt to make sure all the Guinness they pre-ordered gets sold?
The thing that struck me the most at last year’s parade was just how transformative the event was for the southern side of Digbeth – in particular, Bradford Street. The road was unrecognisable, changing from being just the place that the 50 goes down to a genuinely bustling city centre street, with music and noise and families and an overall sense of a positive community. All of the participants of the parade were beaming with pride and joy as they marched and danced towards the city centre, waving their flags and playing their instruments. Children stood at the barriers with their faces painted, carrying balloons and waving as the colourful procession passed by in front of them. Standing in the crowd, you genuinely felt as if you were part of something bigger than yourself. The parade served as a reminder not only of the Irish heritage which can still be found throughout the city, but also of the community that we all share here in Birmingham, regardless of background.
Unfortunately, this year did not feel the same. Walking around the Irish Quarter at one o’clock on St. Patrick’s Day, the last thing you expect to hear is exactly what I was initially met with – silence. The streets were no busier than a weekday and if you weren’t paying attention, you might
not have even seen the decorations.
Heading towards the first sound of music, I arrived at the Old
Crown to a live performance of ‘Take Me Home, Country Roads’ – the celebration of Irish culture was not off to a great start. I looped back through an empty Custard Factory with the vague notion that maybe I would find some of the Irish dancers from last year had returned and were intent on performing, regardless of what the council had to say. I instead was met with more silence, the only indication of the day’s celebrations being a single AutoBrew advert, tempting me with self- serve Guinness.
Undeterred, I pressed on to the place I knew would have what I was looking for: the unapologetically Irish Norton’s. From my understanding, they were one of the venues which had spearheaded this
attempt to continue the festivities without the parade and so my hopes were high for what I would find there.
The music got louder and louder as I approached, so far so good. It wasn’t long before I could make out the song that was being played – an acoustic rendition of Shania Twain’s ‘Man! I Feel Like A Woman!’.
At this point I had truly lost hope. I didn’t have a ticket for any of the ticketed events, and I didn’t feel like getting patted down by a bouncer just for the sake of being slightly closer to the acoustic covers of American songs. I had come with the hope of seeing at least a fraction of the community and culture that was on display a year prior. I was instead met with a typical Sunday in Digbeth, the only difference being a higher than usual proportion of green clothing. Tail between my legs, I returned home to mourn the city’s loss.
Fifty years on from one of if not the lowest points in Birmingham’s relationship with the Irish community, this year’s St. Patrick’s Day should have been one to remember, celebrating how far the
city’s Irish community has come and how much they have been through. Instead, the festivities were cancelled due to financial mismanagement at the council and the Irish community were left to celebrate only the parts of their culture which can be sold or ticketed.
Will next year be any different? Will the council have learned their lessons and properly planned for the event? Or will the parade, like
so many other parts of Birmingham’s rich culture, be left by the wayside?