Derry or Londonderry?

Even the BBC can’t decide.

Tuning in to the BBC late last night, I watched a report about the Saville inquiry into the events of Bloody Sunday, 1972, during which the studio presenter referred to the Northern Irish city of "Londonderry". When we went to a report from the area, however, the name of "Derry" was used. Naturally, there are historical resonances attached to both versions.

Unionists -- and especially their supporters in England -- have a strong preference for Londonderry, as it was renamed in recognition of its connections with City of London livery companies during the Plantation of Ulster in the 1600s.

Nationalists tend to prefer the name that served perfectly well for centuries before the inhabitants of the large island next door decided to occupy the neighbouring lands across the Irish Sea -- "ye that have harried and held/ye that have bullied and bribed, tyrants, hypocrites, liars!", as Patrick Pearse, leader of the 1916 Easter Rising, called them in his poem "The Rebel".

As Saville is going to be in the news in the coming days, there is a significance in the nomenclature used in reports. The Guardian style guide, for instance, states firmly: "Derry, Co Derry. Not Londonderry." A BBC press officer tells me she doesn't think the corporation has any internal guidelines.

The Independent's letters editor and style supremo, Guy Keleny, says that paper would aim to be "non-tendentious and even-handed as regards the history of Northern Ireland". So, the local authority, which voted to revert to the original name of Derry in 1984, "has the right to call itself whatever it wants". However, the high court ruled in 2007 that Londonderry is in the city's royal charter and remains its legal name.

An old edition of the Oxford Dictionary for Writers and Editors lists Derry as a "postally acceptable abbreviation" of Londonderry, while I gather the comedian Dara O'Briain makes light of the competing versions when he performs in the city by opening his show with the line: "Hello, my name is Dara, or if you prefer, you can call me Londondara."

You can find quite a history of the dispute on Wikipedia here, although some of its statements are questionable. It says, for instance, that "The Londonderry Air" ("Danny Boy") is "seldom" called "The Derry Air". Not so "seldom" in southern Irish circles, that's for sure.

Keleny adds: "there ought to be a Platonic ideal" for the name of the actual place -- but that is still only an aspiration. As Éamonn Ó Ciardha of the University of Ulster says: "The Ulster Plantation may have been 400 years ago but its impact is still being felt at home and abroad." Not least in the findings of the Saville inquiry, which are published today.

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Sholto Byrnes is a Contributing Editor to the New Statesman
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Let's face it: supporting Spurs is basically a form of charity

Now, for my biggest donation yet . . .

I gazed in awe at the new stadium, the future home of Spurs, wondering where my treasures will go. It is going to be one of the architectural wonders of the modern world (football stadia division), yet at the same time it seems ancient, archaic, a Roman ruin, very much like an amphitheatre I once saw in Croatia. It’s at the stage in a new construction when you can see all the bones and none of the flesh, with huge tiers soaring up into the sky. You can’t tell if it’s going or coming, a past perfect ruin or a perfect future model.

It has been so annoying at White Hart Lane this past year or so, having to walk round walkways and under awnings and dodge fences and hoardings, losing all sense of direction. Millions of pounds were being poured into what appeared to be a hole in the ground. The new stadium will replace part of one end of the present one, which was built in 1898. It has been hard not to be unaware of what’s going on, continually asking ourselves, as we take our seats: did the earth move for you?

Now, at long last, you can see what will be there, when it emerges from the scaffolding in another year. Awesome, of course. And, har, har, it will hold more people than Arsenal’s new home by 1,000 (61,000, as opposed to the puny Emirates, with only 60,000). At each home game, I am thinking about the future, wondering how my treasures will fare: will they be happy there?

No, I don’t mean Harry Kane, Danny Rose and Kyle Walker – local as well as national treasures. Not many Prem teams these days can boast quite as many English persons in their ranks. I mean my treasures, stuff wot I have been collecting these past 50 years.

About ten years ago, I went to a shareholders’ meeting at White Hart Lane when the embryonic plans for the new stadium were being announced. I stood up when questions were called for and asked the chairman, Daniel Levy, about having a museum in the new stadium. I told him that Man United had made £1m the previous year from their museum. Surely Spurs should make room for one in the brave new mega-stadium – to show off our long and proud history, delight the fans and all those interested in football history and make a few bob.

He mumbled something – fluent enough, as he did go to Cambridge – but gave nothing away, like the PM caught at Prime Minister’s Questions with an unexpected question.

But now it is going to happen. The people who are designing the museum are coming from Manchester to look at my treasures. They asked for a list but I said, “No chance.” I must have 2,000 items of Spurs memorabilia. I could be dead by the time I finish listing them. They’ll have to see them, in the flesh, and then they’ll be free to take away whatever they might consider worth having in the new museum.

I’m awfully kind that way, partly because I have always looked on supporting Spurs as a form of charity. You don’t expect any reward. Nor could you expect a great deal of pleasure, these past few decades, and certainly not the other day at Liverpool when they were shite. But you do want to help them, poor things.

I have been downsizing since my wife died, and since we sold our Loweswater house, and I’m now clearing out some of my treasures. I’ve donated a very rare Wordsworth book to Dove Cottage, five letters from Beatrix Potter to the Armitt Library in Ambleside, and handwritten Beatles lyrics to the British Library. If Beckham and I don’t get a knighthood in the next honours list, I will be spitting.

My Spurs stuff includes programmes going back to 1910, plus recent stuff like the Opus book, that monster publication, about the size of a black cab. Limited editions cost £8,000 a copy in 2007. I got mine free, as I did the introduction and loaned them photographs. I will be glad to get rid of it. It’s blocking the light in my room.

Perhaps, depending on what they want, and they might take nothing, I will ask for a small pourboire in return. Two free tickets in the new stadium. For life. Or longer . . . 

Hunter Davies is a journalist, broadcaster and profilic author perhaps best known for writing about the Beatles. He is an ardent Tottenham fan and writes a regular column on football for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 16 February 2017 issue of the New Statesman, The New Times