Northwest Belfast

This is a fascinating, confronting, depressing city of despair and hope, bigotry and apathy. I missed the ferry last night due to being stuck at the airport for hours after dropping Ian off – there was a bomb-scare which turned out to be a hoax. The night before, we were stopped at an army checkpoint then in town afterwards (just John and I), we saw a body lying covered on the road; there were 2-3 landrovers and some soldiers who had cordoned off the road.

John and his father lived just off the Shankill Road back in the 70s – two huge bombs in that time damaged their home – one 450 pounder just 300 yards away. John’s father rushed home to find the roof, ceiling, windows, door and all the glassware in the house destroyed. My impression: paramilitaries on both sides are seen as one entity and hated.

In the Crown Bar the other night, I wished John Slàinte and he smiled but said quietly that one had to be careful where one used that word.

Cuchulain of Muirthemne - Lady Gregory