www.sundaylife.co.uk NEWS I 15 14 I NEWS www.sundaylife.co.uk Sunday Life 27 May 2018 27 May 2018 Sunday Life

IN THE BLOOD: Moya (also top right) with her family in Clannad in 2011; (below) as a child with her late dad Leo; and (right) with her daughter Aisling and son Paul

‘Thankfully I didn’t do hard drugs. I remember smoking my first ever joint and I hated it’

Neighbouring Newtownards Road is home to the Yardmen statues celebrating generations of Harland & Wolff workers.

The junction of north Bel-fast’s Cambrai Street and Crumlin Roads in north Belfast where the city’s four major spinning mills once stood at Brookfield, Edender-ry, Flax Street and Ewart’s is the site of The Millies who do the same for generations of women in the Linen Industry.

We are getting better at cele-brating our heroes.

The Victorians and Edwardians weren’t a bit behind the door when it came to creating likeness-es of monarchs, royalty, politi-cians, scientists, poets, composers and even the odd family pet.

Scotland boasts dozens of stat-ues and busts of national poet Rabbie Burns, Robert the Bruce, the wee ‘dug’ Greyfriars Bobby,

comic character Desperate Dan, the Duke of Wellington and a William Wallace with a more than passing resemblance to filum star Mel Gibson. So where is Belfast comedy legend Frank Carson?

Frank raised over £1m for charities. He won Opportunity Knocks three times, had his jokes pinched by the Duke of Edinburgh and never forgot where he came from — the boy from the docks of Belfast done good.

We all have heroes we want to see memorialised for ever as statues on our streets and Frank Carson is mine.

Eric Morecambe is immor-talised in bronze on the Central Promenade in the Lancashire town from which he took his name.

Tommy Cooper complete with trademark Fez and wand looms large over his birthplace in the Welsh town of Caerphilly.

Sir Ken Dodd who died just a few weeks back had his statue reinstated in Liverpool’s Lime Street Station the night before his funeral as it had been removed while refurbishment was taking place.

Great lives and great comedians — and Belfast’s own Frank Carson stood tall among them. I know be-cause I’ve done the research, made the documentary and written the play. I’m bringing him back in my one-man show about his life to the Lyric Theatre next month.

Sadly in 2012, aged 85, Frank Carson was called to that Heav-enly Command Performance in the sky along with Eric & Ernie, Tommy, Brucie and Doddy.

Come and see me — Frank Carson: A Rebel Without a Pause in the Lyric Theatre from June

PLANS to erect a statue of football legend George Best were reignited last week. After the 59-year-old star’s untimely death in 2005, there have been several unsuccess-ful attempts but none got over the goal line.

Now a crusading Belfast sculp-tor is revisiting his ambition to pay tribute to Bestie in the near future at the National Stadium at Windsor Park. Good luck to him.

There is something spectacular about a life-size representation of famous folk. One that we can stand beside, touch, caress or bearhug makes us happy.

Madame Tussaud figured that out many years ago and we pay vast fortunes to stand beside celebrity likenesses and snap our selfies.

The recent mini tour of the Tussaud likenesses of The Duke and Duchess of Sussex (Prince Harry and Meghan Markle in old money) was a huge draw and got global attention.

We already have the statue of Frank Pantridge positioned out-side the Island Hall in Lisburn. Pantridge, a brilliant cardiologist, invented the portable defibrillator revolutionising emergency med-icine and saving countless lives.

We have a 10ft version of world flyweight boxing champion Rinty Monaghan, microphone in hand singing When Irish Eyes Are Smiling, down in the Cathedral Gardens beside what was the Belfast College of Art.

The Searcher at the Holywood Arches in east Belfast isn’t actually a young CS Lewis checking out the bronze wardrobe, but a lot of folk think he is. He also has his brilliant creations from Narnia — Aslan the Lion, The White Witch, Mr Tumnus,The Beavers and The Robin — to keep him company just yards away in Lewis Square.

Liverpool and Morecambe have their statues of Doddy and Eric

LET’S HONOUR HERO FRANK

FITTING HONOUR: Ken Dodd’s statue

“I saw it as old fashioned. But it didn’t matter because the foundation had been laid already. Later, when I took a good look at myself, I knew I was a mess and that I couldn’t help myself. Then I came across an old prayer book my grandmother had given me. I started to read, then I started to pray. I asked God to forgive me and to guide me. I can’t say there was any big major transformation but for the first time I felt truly forgiven. It was as though a huge weight had been lifted from my shoulders.”

Months after finding God, she met devout Christian and photographer Tim Jarvis, whom she married in 1991. “Tim was doing a photoshoot for Clannad and it was most definitely love at first sight,” she laughs. The following year, with Tim as manager, Moya released her solo album, Maire.

SINGER, songwriter, harpist and philan-thropist Moya Brennan certainly has an impressive CV.

But when I caught up with her, she had some-thing less notable, albeit universally familiar on her mind. “Sorry, I’m late,” she breathes in her soft Irish burr. “It’s just I had the family staying and now they’ve gone, I’ve been rushing around trying to get the house back to normal again.”

Family has always been important to the Brennan clan. But music is the glue that bonds them together.

“I think music must be in our DNA,” Moya, who released her latest album Canvas, ‘The First Lady of Irish Music’ earlier this year, laughs.

“My dad had a showband, my mum was a teacher — music of course! Even my grand-mother played drums, in fact, I think she was the first female drummer in Ireland.

“My first proper introduction to music was learning to play piano. Back then, in rural Donegal, in the 50s and 60s, nobody had piano lessons — I mean nobody! It really was a big deal. Like a lot of kids, I’d get fed up and didn’t always want to practise but my par-ents insisted.

“They knew the value of giving us a good foundation for the future. It’s a different world today. Many parents don’t like to force their kids to do things and give into their whims.

“Maybe they think they’re allowing them more freedom. I don’t think it works. My mum and dad used to tell me I’d thank them one day. They were right. I’m very blessed to have had parents like mine.”

In 1970, Moya joined siblings Ciaran and Pol Brennan, along with twin uncles, Noel and Padraig Duggan, in the family band, Clannad. Their unique repertoire of Gaelic songs, influenced by genres such as rock and jazz, rapidly made an impression, especially on the continent.

But it wasn’t until the Eighties when they wrote the soundtrack to the television series Harry’s Game, that they achieved interna-tional stardom.

FORGIVEN“We’d no idea Harry’s Game would be so

successful. When it first came out we were on tour in Germany but then, when we flew back, there were limos waiting for us at the airport. I think that was a major clue some-thing big had happened.”

Idyllic childhood, happy family, followed by fame and fortune, her life has all the ingredi-ents of a fairy tale. But she’s the first to admit, it wasn’t always a happy story.

“Just because we were a folk band didn’t mean we weren’t exposed to the rock and roll culture. We were on the road, staying in hostels and hotels and we’d get invited to parties. Sometimes we were partying every night.

“People would offer us drinks and drugs, everything was freely available. I remember the first time I smoked a joint, I hated it but it was ‘cool’ and the thing to do so I just persevered. That’s the thing about peer pressure, it’s very hard for young people to resist.

“They get sucked in and think they’re ‘having a good time’. Even today, young people are strug-gling. In fact, it’s even worse for them because they have the added pressure of social media.”

Looking back at her own wild child experience, Moya (65) considers herself extremely fortunate.

“Thankfully I didn’t do the really hard drugs and despite the liquor, I didn’t end up addicted or anything. That was probably because mammy and daddy were praying for me.”

She may not have succumbed to addiction but she didn’t escape totally unscathed. In her memoir, The Other Side of the Rainbow, Moya speaks candidly about how, as an 18-year-old, she travelled to London to have an abortion. It’s still a difficult subject. Referring to the trauma, she says only that she’s found “healing.”

Rekindling the faith of her childhood proved a major turning point.

“As children, our parents tried to instil a healthy respect for God. I remember that, even as a young child, I was aware of God’s presence and had the sense he’d always look out for me. Of course, by the time I returned from boarding school, ‘faith’ wasn’t so cool!

In recent years, the family has suffered the loss of their father Leo, as well as uncle and former Clannad member, Padraig. But the arrival of children and grandchildren has also brought great happiness. Throughout the changes, their passion for music remains constant.

“You know, the great thing about music is that it transcends emotion,” she explains. “It is powerful and evocative. It can bring a memory to life or even change a mood. It doesn’t matter where in the world you live, music is the universal language.”

On a recent UK tour for her album her family again accompanied her on stage, but this time it was her daughter Aisling and son Paul. “Aisling and Paul are both very talented and I was de-lighted to have them with me — I’m very blessed.”

By Lorraine Farrell

ENDURING APPEAL: Moya Brennan found fame with Clannad five decades ago but is currently touring as a solo artist

AHEAD OF HER UK TOUR, CLANNAD STAR MOYA TALKS FAMILY, FAITH AND TEMPTATION DURING FIVE DECADES IN THE INDUSTRY

LOVABLE: Frank Carson was a great

ambassador for these parts; and

(left) with his old friend Ken Dodd

By Lorraine Wylie