The Dock Volunteer (or Dockus Volunteeris to give the full technical title) is a very interesting species with many notable features.

As a species, they are incredibly varied.  Some of them prefer to serve coffee and chat to customers all the livelong day.  Some of them actually prefer to get stuck into the dishes and see a groaning-full table of dirty crockery as the kind of challenge they were born to face.  Some of them pray, some of them chat, some of them are artistic, some of them are practical, some of them commit to a regular time slot, some of them pop up when needed.  In many ways, their kalaidascopic variety is their strength.

Members of the species do of course have some things in common.  They are all very nice people. They are all in love with this strange haphazard semi-accidental explosion of life, grace and creativity we call The Dock.  They have all been through a very informal but very important application process, involving a chat (to make sure they’re not an axe-murderer) and some training on how to make a perfect cuppa.

And they all appreciate being thanked from time to time – so maybe the next time you encounter a member of the species, you could just mention that they’re doing a phenomenal job.  That was certainly the message when they all gathered recently for a Volunteer Treats Day of afternoon tea, photo booth fun and big-screen movies:

Another distinguishing feature is the way that they care for each other – as evidenced by the recent appearance of this bring-and-share box of treats and goodies for volunteers who have missed breakfast or forgotten their lunch…

But maybe the most important thing to know about the Dockus Volunteeris is that you could become a member of the species yourself.   In fact the existing members of the species would be delighted if you joined them.

As a rule, they all seem to have a whale of a time being part of the life of The Dock, meeting new people, learning new skills, and building community together in the Titanic Quarter.  So there’s no need to remain a member of the species of Non-Dock-Volunteer (or Boredus Sadus SittingOnTheSofaNotDoingMuchis to give the technical term) if you would like to join this particular tribe instead… just click here if you’re interested!

Any time you doubt the power of a deadline… if you ever wonder if miracles still happen… if you question whether the impossible can occasionally become possible… remember the story of Eamonn Day, exactly three years ago today.

On Monday 20th February 2012, we were handed the key to an empty shell at the base of the ARC apartments – and asked to be ready for Sunday 26th February, when Eamonn Holmes and a Songs Of Praise film crew would arrive to film in our busy community cafe.

And so, with apologies to the book of Genesis, began the Six Days of Creation:

In the beginning, The Dock created a little piece of Heaven on Earth. The cafe was formless and empty, and darkness was over the face of the deep puddles.

And the team said, We’d better paint the floor.  And so they hoovered, and they swept, and they painted.  And there was morning, and there was evening, and then the paint dried nicely overnight – the first day.

And the team said, We’d better do some planning.  And behold! there was coffee, and there were ideas, and there was much chat and laughter and excitement about this crazy idea of running an Honesty Box Cafe.  And there was a plan, and it was good.  The second day.

And the Electricians and the Plumbers did come unto the cafe and work their wonders. The waters did flow; there was a sink, and a tap, and there were plugs, and power, and the team did flick a switch and say Let there be Light! and there was light – the third day.

And the pictures and signs did come unto the cafe.  The team did construct wooden display boards, and did paint them with  a coat of white paint.  And then another.  And then another.  And still the flipping things weren’t white enough.  But the pictures went on the walls according to their kinds, and the Dock logo went above the doors and windows according to their kinds.  And there was art and there were signs (and wonders) – the fourth day.

And the team said, Let the furniture increase in number, let it be fruitful and multiply to fill the cafe and cover the floor.  And so a battered old white van was purloined, and across land and sea didst travel Chris and Jeremy, to borrow and beg and buy and bargain every last free or cut-price piece of furniture in greater Belfast.  And there were chairs, and there were tables; there were shelves and there were sofas – the fifth day.

And then verily did the gloves come off.  The cafe was cleaned from  end to end and top to bottom.  The flat-pack furniture was created in the image of the little man on the ikea instruction sheet.  The tea was arranged according to its kind, and the coffee according to its kind, and the mugs and the plates and the glasses and the spoons according to their kinds. And it was so.  And there was evening, and there was morning, and then there was midnight, and then there was still more to do, and so the team kept working and building and moving and shaping, for Eamonn was coming.  And finally, there was relief and there was calm (and there was exhaustion) – the sixth day.

And so, on the seventh day, Eamonn Holmes walked in the cool of the cafe in the heat of the day.  He saw all that had been made.  He chatted to the people.  He had a cup of tea.  And he said that it was very good.

Happy Valentines Day!  Romantic suggestions for today:

1) Treat the love of your life to an Ulster Fry and Belfast Brew in DOCK Cafe

2) Browse the fantastically romantic stalls of DOCK Market, open today from 11-5, chock-full of beautiful home-made art, food, gifts, jewellery, candles, fashion and so much more

3) Check out the video for this truly lovely song from local singer-songwriter Robb Murphy, filmed in DOCK Cafe back in the days of Kate and Leo the goldfish:

4) If you’re a Dock Volunteer, get ready for an afternoon of treats and pampering tomorrow at our Valentine Volunteer Party

5) OK I’m out…  over to you!

A couple of weeks ago I did a Thought For The Day on the radio about the experience of being reviewed on Trip Advisor – based on the brilliant line from Baz Luhrmann’s Sunscreen: “Remember compliments you receive. Forget the insults. And if you succeed in doing this, tell me how”.

I got quite a bit of feedback from that particular thought, and the first thing I want to say is a massive, massive thank-you to everyone who has been encouraging and positive about The Dock, whether on Trip Advisor or any other outlet… seriously, it is hugely appreciated (and it is worth checking out Dock Cafe’s Trip Advisor page to see how much love is out there)

Some people were kind enough to get in contact and confess that they knew exactly what I was talking about when I described my sleepless nights of defensive fretting when something negative pops up: whether it’s one comment in a hundred or a hundred thousand, the critical stuff just seems to stick – and hurt – where the positive comments can so easily slide off.

My wonderful mum, possibly worried that I was in a fragile emotional state, was moved to write me a card with her advice on the subject, hard-won through years of experience – and while much of her advice to me relating to haircuts and fashion choices during my formative years may have been questionable (see left for proof), her thoughts on this subject were so helpful and wise and sensible that I thought they were worth sharing:

Go Saintly
Repeat constantly: “All will be well” and “This too will pass” and “Time heals”

Go Religious
Pray for strength and wisdom

Go Psychological
Is the insult a result of the person’s background, upbringing, fear, prejudice, bigotry, frustration, misplaced anger, ignorance?

Go Norn Ireland
Repeat “Wind yer neck in”, “Just get over it big fella”, and “Up yer nose sideways with a wire brush”  (in private)

Go Active
Rant, shout, cry – while digging the garden, sawing down trees, jogging for miles – or some form of strenuous exercise

She’s very wise, my mum!

I was also sent this incredible, beautiful article from Guardian columnist Lindy West , which left me in a puddle of manly man-tears. As I said on the radio, given how much I know I fret over the very occasional and mild criticisms I receive, I genuinely don’t know how people in the public eye cope under the mountains of aggressive abuse that’s sometimes directed their way.

Lindy’s story at first made me want to just give up on the whole human race in utter despair – but then when the ray of light comes out of the blue towards the end – well, you should read it and I challenge you to finish it with a dry eye!

And remember compliments you receive. Forget the insults. And if you succeed in doing this, tell me how.

(PS on the subject of it being a scary world out there on the world wide web, you may have noticed that the Dock website was down for a few days… all fixed now! (although we’ve lost a few blogs from January)