Here's a few jottings following a recent trip back to Northern Ireland.......
I noticed something in Northern Ireland
recently, something beyond political bitching, flags, remembrance of things
past, bad stuff that hogs the headlines and all the blether and blah hot air
that must be as much of a threat to the environment as methane gas. I’ll get to that soon but here’s a
little historical and travelogue background.
I was born and raised in Belfast but
nowadays I am more of an in-out tourist, always delighted to step off the plane
to meet up with family and friends.
I am not a kiss-the-tarmac kind of guy but, emotionally, I come close.
My trips are also opportunities to catch up with Belfast, to walk in my old
stomping grounds and to remember the great times I had working in the grim era
of the 1970s. I am very fond of
the city, annoying though some of its citizens and politics can be. It has a
special creative vibe and a lot of good history.
On my most recent visit (August 2015), my
wife accompanied me. It was a
surprise birthday treat for her – one of those milestone numbers – and it was a
big success. We arrived at George
Best airport and headed for a pre-Belfast stay at the stunning Slieve Donard
Hotel in Newcastle, a location and building on the coast second to none. It was a little disappointing to
observe a lack of that famous Irish warmth and personality from some of the
staff but we ignored the surly ones as best we could and enjoyed the craic from
others who seemed happier in their work.
After two nights at The Slieve, we
meandered our way towards Belfast via Ardglass, Strangford and
Downpatrick. There is not a huge
amount to see and do in Ardglass, pretty spot though it is, but we did have
coffee in Doyle’s and a chat with a lovely waitress. I asked where the main street was and she pointed up the
hill. “That’s it. That’s Ardglass.”
We smiled a collective smile. Strangford had a bit more to it and
Downpatrick had a lot more to it including the obvious but still interesting
stories about Saint Patrick, ‘dear saint of our isle.” I was particularly interested in
Downpatrick’s Market Street because of Damian Smyth’s excellent 2010 book of
poems named after the thoroughfare.
We ended up in Belfast, a chance to dander around and see how the old
town is doing. There was a lot of observing and absorbing of life going on.
So what was this thing I noticed. I keep tabs on Northern Ireland’s news
via the Internet, scanning the newspapers and the BBC and, unless I am being
unfair, bad news and conflict continue to dominate. Some good news and cute stories are sprinkled here and there
to celebrate, entertain and amuse.
But, for someone on the other side of the world, dipping into Ulster
news coverage the reality of what actually goes on in, for example, Belfast day
in and day out is skewed.
The thing I noticed was NORMAL LIFE. Blimey, I hear you cry. You took five paragraphs to present a
statement of the blinking obvious.
Well, yes, but I would argue strongly that emphasizing normality is very
important in a place where morale can have as many holes as a colander.
I watched people heading for work, carrying
their coffee cups, yabbering and tapping on phones, queuing for buses,
shopping, chatting in the street, choosing sandwich fillings, sitting on
benches reading newspapers and books, driving, honking horns, waiting to cross
roads, delivering stuff, drinking in bars, smoking in clumps outside, and on
and on. It was like any other
city. NORMAL LIFE.
NORMAL LIFE, a thing not to be
underestimated or taken for granted, a thing that should be a comfort when the
going gets tough. After arguments, fights, despicable acts, nasty interludes,
hurled stones and bottles, etc, NORMAL LIFE returns and most people get on with
earning a crust and living a life.
NORMAL LIFE never goes away for long. It always comes back, ’as sure as the
turning of the earth*’.
*Never
too far from a western quotation – ‘The Searchers’.
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