CORK is a beautiful city - Corkonians will not mind reading this bit. It is also a filthy one - the good citizens will be less pleased by that observation. The southern capital is a tale of two cities.
Despite a succession of litter awareness campaigns promoted by the local authority. Cork people have remained obdurately unreformed.
Cork, for all its local pride in being the second city of the Republic, has failed to get its act in order.
The local authority does clean the streets. But despite all efforts, litter does not so much abound as surround you when you stroll through this otherwise most pleasant of cities.
Great strides were made when some of the off Patrick Street areas were pedestrianised. Like Temple Bar in Dublin, notwithstanding the discussion of how the pub culture has affected it, those pedestrianised areas of Cork gave the inner city, its nexus, back to the people.
In 1980, the late Bishop Cornelius Luccy received the freedom of the city, together with the former Taoiseach, Mr Jack Lynch. In a memorable acceptance speech he visualised how his city could be enhanced. He wanted more trees to be planted and offered to put up some money for that purpose himself.
He spoke of his Cork childhood and the great pastime among young boys of playing conkers - or chessies.
Bishop Lucey, "Connie" to all and sundry, had a vision of a treelined city whose people would appreciate the beauty of nature and come to love Cork all the more. It had nothing to do with the sharp edge of his episcopacy and it was romantic, maybe even naive.
The bishop, though, was looking for better things for a city which he loved well. During talks with him in "the palace", his residence, he was unhappy that Cork did not have enough trees, and he was unhappy about the litter problem too.
He was imperious in his way but there was a soft hearted side to him also. He didn't know, nor did I at the time, the extent of the vandalism and litter problem in Cork.
Last year, Cork Corporation planted 7,500 trees, 15,000 shrubs, 125,000 bedding plants and 55,000 bulbs. When the vandals were finished undoing all that good work, by breaking saplings and pulling up plants, the corporation was faced with a repair and replacement bill of £100,000.
It leaves one wondering why they bother at all. Cork, with its two river channels, can have swirling winds and when they swirl, the litter dances with them. No amount of street cleaning can keep up with it when the people themselves seem not to care.
THERE is a view among those who do that the time has come to stop asking people nicely not to litter their own city and hit them instead with hefty fines.
At present, the maximum fine is £800. But when was that ever imposed? Clearly, it is not a sufficient deterrent and a beautiful city often looks jaded and despoiled as the litter problem worsens.
The message has not been getting through and foreign visitors have not been slow to point out that, while the gateway to the south west presents a lively and friendly face, something must be done about the incessant tendency to leave litter lying around.
Why the system is not working can be easily explained.
On the spot fines of £25 may be imposed by authorised agents of the corporation. This assumes, however, that the person caught littering will give a correct name and address and that he or she has the £25 to hand over in the first place. But things may change.
Last month, the President, Mrs Robinson, signed the Litter Pollution Act. A commencement order is required before its provisions are introduced. But when they are, they may knock some sense into people.
The on the spot fine will not change but the maximum penalty is set to become £1,500 on indictment. The Garda will be empowered to deal with offenders under the Act from now on. This also may have a salutary effect, given that litter wardens are simply being ignored.
Heading west, there is a marked improvement as you drive towards the sea. You find lovely villages such as Leap and Union Hall in pristine condition.
Unlike the grime of Cork, there is hardly any litter. People take pride in their home place.
But in Cork, the familiar scene is adults and children scattering their litter when and where they please, leaving the city of steps and steeples remembered more for its litter than its interesting topography.
That's the down side.
But Cork sucks you in, and after a while you can pretend not to notice the litter. The city has many delights.
One of them is the English Market - a sensuous place of exotic aromas and spices, with the older stalls selling everything from corned beef to squid, game birds and periwinkle.
The market is a melange - a bustling throw back to an age long gone. A gathering place, a place to stroll through, it has everything.
Meat, fish and game predominated at one time. Now others have moved in to add to the allure. Its history is a major part of the history of Cork city and the two are inseparable.
RARELY has an institution become so beloved in any city or town. Corkonians and visitors, regular or occasional, are always impressed, even if they do wonder about all those flies.
On the other hand, you cannot have the colour of a market where sides of bacon are still delivered over the shoulder and where the vegetable man has to haul in his produce physically if what you want is the sterile condition of the supermarket.
The supermarkets are one thing - the English Market is another - and long may it flourish. With its cheeses home made and not home made; its oils and olives; its second hand clothes; its tripe and drisheen; the vinegars; the fishmonger whose family has been there for a century; its stallholders who know when the first pheasant is likely to be available; the stall with the buttered eggs.
By 1833, there were six enclosed markets in Cork, the oldest of which was the Grand Parade or English Market. Now that the election is on, a visit there will be a must for pressing the flesh purposes.
That's where you must go on the campaign trail in Cork. C.J. Haughey was wont to make royal sweeps of the market, kissing the babies, joking with the throngs, soaking it all up. Other party leaders before and after him could not match the crowds he could muster.
As well as the enclosed markets there were out markets, where all sorts of articles were sold in the open air. Cork Corporation was entitled to collect tolls on goods brought into the city, and from the market stall holders.
A history of this element of the city's life, compiled by the corporation, tells us: "A clerk or superintendent, accompanied by two beadles, three weighmasters, and two collectors, was responsible for the everyday management of the markets".
"There have been many changes in the markets over the years. The old market beadles, with their tall hats and long coats, responsible for keeping order in the markets, are gone, some of the market families no longer trade here, but others have taken their places.
"The markets are still a haven of fresh food and a place where the people of Cork go to get the best of produce, and in particular, where one can still find Cork delicacies such as tripe and drisheen. The markets continue to live very much part of Cork life.