Ryan Tubridy's London Diary: The Irish Centre is an informal embassy for people who need help

I had heard so much about the iconic London Irish Centre over the years that it was a pleasure to be invited for coffee there by my friend Deirdre. She works as a volunteer in the Camden premises that has been a home and refuge, but also an entertainment hub, for generations of Irish people who found themselves living and working in this vast and often emotionally cold city.

The first thing that struck me was how central it is. Camden has an edgy quality to it that has been personified by the likes of Amy Winehouse in relatively recent times. The Centre is within walking distance of Camden Town Tube station so it is effortlessly accessible.

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The building itself is enormous and takes up about three terraced houses worth of accommodation, so all comers are welcome and there’s plenty of room for everyone. Once inside the door, there’s a cafe-style space with a bar/shop that sells all the Irish staples for anyone missing their Lyons/Barrys tea or Mikado biscuits. But that’s where the cliche really ends because beyond that sense of throwbackery, the rest of what the Centre has to offer is substantial, helpful and important.

The London Irish Centre in Camden, north London. Pic: PA Images

Over coffee with Deirdre and Kate (a leading light at the Centre), I discovered why such a place exists and for whom. As I understand it, the Centre is like an informal embassy for Irish people who need information or guidance or indeed, help. There are services there that can point people in the right direction if they are having trouble making their way through the UK bureaucracy, or maybe having trouble to make ends meet.

There are events held that bring people together who might have nobody else to meet other than for a social night at the Centre. There’s also a particularly profound role played by the Centre and its staff members, and that is to offer safe haven and advice to survivors of the mother and baby homes that haunted Irish society – in that insidious way – for so much of the twentieth century.

Ryan Tubridy reading the Mail at Virgin Radio’s offices. Pic: Ryan Tubridy / Instagram

Lots of the women who were forced into the homes found themselves with nowhere to go when they eventually got out of the institutions. Many of them were stigmatised by what happened to them and felt they had no alternative but to flee to London and beyond.

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There’s also the other group of survivors who made it out of the borstal system intact, but couldn’t fit into ‘normal’ Irish life as a result of the treatment meted out to them in those godforsaken places. Lacking education, acceptance and love, a whole swathe of Irish men and women landed in the UK with a few quid in their pocket and little clue of what they might do or where they would go next.

This is where the London Irish Centre emerges as a beacon for lost souls who wanted – and continue to need – a warm welcome in a safe environment, surrounded by people who know what they are talking about whether through personal experience or having heard so many stories down through the years.

Kate and Deirdre are just two of the people who provide this extraordinary service. There are others there too of course who offer a listening ear or maybe an hour of education to assist in improving literacy levels. This is done discreetly, one on one, over a pot of tea. It’s quite shocking to learn that this service is not only still required, but very much in demand in the year 2024.

It only served to remind me, as a privileged citizen of Ireland, of how recent this desperately sad chapter of our history was written but also of the need to recognise and mind those hundreds, if not thousands, of our fellow citizens who didn’t get a fair go in life and found themselves involuntary exiles from the country of their birth.

If it wasn’t for the Kates and Deirdres of this world, one wonders where these decent people might have ended up.

Bike rental schemes

I am loving the electric bike rental schemes over here. The Tube system is a thing of awe but sometimes, the bowels of a city need to be avoided and if you’re in a hurry, the easiest option is to hop on a Lime or Forest bike. For me, the lack of faffing about makes it a joy. Phone out, scan the code, click for payment and you’re off. I regularly fill the basket at the front with groceries or laundry and head for my destination, whizzing past the traffic and loving the breeze on my face and all for the price of a pint!

One to read

The Bee Sting by Paul Murray

Books-wise this week, I’m following up last week’s Irish Booker Prize winner with a runner-up in the shape of Paul Murray’s The Bee Sting. It was wonderful to see the two Pauls on the shortlist and both fully deserved their place there. The Bee Sting is an epic book – be warned that it’s over 650 pages long – but despite its intimidating size and length, it tips along at a swift pace as it brings us into small town Ireland and follows the ups and (mostly) downs of the Barnes family and all those whose lives they touch.

It’s been widely described as a tragi-comedy but I thought it was a lot more tragedy and a lot less comedy. I don’t mean that in a pejorative way but there was always a gloomy hum of inevitable despair that permeated every beautifully written chapter. The drama examines lost love, forbidden love, misguided love, parental love, hidden love, etc. It also looks at all of these things in reverse.

You’d need to be in the whole of your health to read The Bee Sting as it’s desperately sad but once you get into it, this is a very difficult book to put down as you are so invested in the central characters and their respective fates.