In 1994, I attended the unveiling by English Heritage of a blue plaque commemorating James Joyce’s brief and unhappy stay in London. This somewhat formal occasion was gatecrashed by none other than the late Stephen Joyce (Report, 27 January).
Indignant that he hadn’t been invited and clearly relishing the moment, he approached the steps of number 28 Campden Grove and appended Edna O’ Brien’s speech by toasting his grandfather’s memory with a glass of his favourite wine. I remember his somewhat spikey demeanour and an overriding sense that this man really meant business. Any perceived incursions into Joyce’s literary reputation would not be tolerated.
However, any awkwardness was soon dispelled by the appearance of a rag and bone man complete with horse and cart. Raising his cap to the assembled crowd of onlookers and photographers, he trotted past the newly anointed address to the sound of laughter and rapturous applause. A true Joycean moment.
Stephen Parkin
London
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