A CULTURAL BRUSH WITH BELLSHILL

We have been, indeed, to the Bellshill Cultural Centre. The centre,

which opened two months ago, dispenses culture not only to Bellshill but

to Holytown, Mossend, and maybe even to Newarthill.

What Bellshill calls a cultural centre other less advanced communities

might call a library. It is, however, a dead posh library. A steel and

brick structure, in a mixture of neo-Gothic and post-modernist styles,

on the Motherwell Road near the Alhambra Bar and not far from the new

Safeway.

It includes in its galaxy of facilities the Atrium Bistro, where the

people of the plain can avail themselves of a croissant on tuna and a

decent cup of coffee for around #1. There is a vast range of reading

material in the bistro, from Twinkle through The Economist to Sounds.

It was indeed a cultural experience to see the old men in bunnets

smoking their thick black shag, sipping tea, and reading the Bellshill

Speaker as Bat Out Of Hell by Meatloaf blasted out of the music system.

The Bellshill Cultural Centre has sundry modern facilities such as

audio-visual rooms in addition to the library and the bistro. It has a

small, multi-purpose room ideal for exhibitions. Indeed there was a pile

of paintings stacked in the corner, so art is definitely on the horizon,

if not on the wall, in this part of north Lanarkshire.

The main hall, or performance area, is equipped to handle almost

anything the lively arts can throw at it. We cannot help but feel it is

underused at present, with its weekly diet of keep fit on a Monday, a

service by the Spiritualist Church on Tuesday, keep fit on Wednesday,

and sequence dancing on a Thursday. But it is early days yet for the

Bellshill Cultural Centre.

There is evidence of a sense of humour. The plaque marking the

official opening is done in the style of a wall of graffiti. (The

Bellshill Speaker informs us that vandalism is a problem in this burgh

of culture, the Tommy Thomson Memorial Scout Hut and the Frank Ferguson

Senior Citizens Centre being notable victims of late.)

One of the ceramic tiles in the centre's plaque is missing, but the

problem here is structural rather than vandalistic.

The Bellshill Cultural Centre does a nice line in small but good

exhibitions. There is some local photography with a snap of a steelworks

and an adjacent cemetery somehow catching the spirit of the place.

An evocative display of old photographs and documents tells the story

of Bellshill's Lithuanian connections. (To digress, we learnt from

Glasgow's current programme of Soviet culture that the Lithuanian for

cheerio sounds like ''Atchoo!'' Bless you, as loads of Glaswegians have

been saying to confused Lithuanian visitors.)

Bellshill and environs is loaded with Lithuaniania. The Eastern

Europeans fled oppression in their hordes at the turn of the century and

ended up in the coal mines and steelworks of north Lanarkshire. To this

day there are Lithuanian folkloric dance troupes in Bellshill and even a

Lithuanian scout troop.

This fascinating exhibition, mounted by the Community Library Service,

shows the emigres enjoying their new lives, Bellshill style, at a picnic

on a coal bing.

It tells how the Lithuanians had to abandon their own names for more

easily understood English substitutes. Smith, Black, and White were

favourite choices. Some of the huddled masses were conned by

Bellshillites and ended up being called such things as Johnny Coalbag

and Frank Gorilla.

This is the same town which has a housing scheme called the Jewel. The

Jewel include such dreamy street names as Topaz Terrace and Amethyst

Avenue. Unfortunately, the houses in the Jewel are virtually

uninhabitable because of dampness and decay. The council tried but

couldn't give the houses away to the residents in a recent tenants power

initiative.

Bellshill Cultural Centre could have a promising future as Scotland's

capital of alternative humour.

* * *

MEANWHILE, back in the City of Culture, Channel 4 has been filming up

a close in Dennistoun as part of its contribution to the 1990 thrash.

With typical thoroughness, the TV company auditioned 15 city closes,

from posh wally in the West End to more homely varieties in the

Saltmarket, before settling on Dennistoun, a part of Glasgow which is

sidewardly, if not upwardly, mobile.

The film is one of 13 four-minute programmes through which Channel 4

hopes to capture the spirit of Glasgow. The film of which we speak is by

composer/performer Ron Geesin, who describes it as ''an orchestrated

stairheid bawl.''

Mr Geesin, who wrote the music for the film Sunday, Bloody Sunday and

has collaborated with Pink Floyd, lives in deepest Surrey but is no

stranger to Glasgow. But he is a Scot and knows all about closes,

although not, you understand, from personal experience. He hails from

the virtually close-free burgh of Bothwell.

* * *

THE last leg of our cultural voyage took us to Edinburgh to see Cats,

the musical. It must be said that the prospect of wall-to-wall opening

night champagne and a pairty in the National Museum of Scotland

greenhouse was the attraction rather than the onstage cat-erwauling. We

found Mr Lloyd Webber's musical incomprehensible, from the opening

number about something called Jellicle Cats, which we at first misheard

as Genital Cats.

When this was followed by a chorus of tap-dancing gladiators who were,

we were later told, cockroaches, we gave up.

But who are we to criticise a show which in its eight years has had a

higher GNP than all the countries of Africa put together and has been

rapturously received by audiences all over the world? The singing is

extremely pleasant, even if the lyrics manage to be both arcane and

mundane. (Lynx rhymes with sphinx but also with stinks.)

The dancing was miraculous, even if we suspected that the kicking of

hind legs which featured prominently in the routines represented a

cat-litter desire by the cast to cover over the words.

But who are we to criticise a show which grossed #3.75m in 23 weeks in

Blackpool and has taken #1.5m in advance booking for its three-month run

at the Edinburgh Playhouse?

It is not our saucer of milk, but eight out of 10 owners of a pair of

hands and a pair of feet gave it a five-minute standing ovation at the

Playhouse opening night.

But Mr Lloyd Webber's company know how to throw a really useful

opening night party. A number of famous people were there, including a

nice young man called Eddie Windsor who is The Really Useful Company's

gofer but attracted more attention even than Lord Fraser, the Lord

Advocate.

Everybody was feline fine by midnight. Except, perhaps, the elderly

Edinburgh lady who was huckled (as they say in the New Town) out of the

party for throwing food and drink over fellow guests.

This sort of thing would never happen in Glasgow, City of Culture, and

definitely not even in the Atrium Bistro of the Bellshill Cultural

Centre.