A little spot of Troubles
I grew up in Norn Iron and lived in Belfast for years - went to Uni there and stayed on. When I first arrived in the city it was pre-ceasefire (pre-first-collapsing ceasefire) and there were still army foot patrols on the streets. There were no-go areas, there were dodgy dealings, there were "us" and "them", but ironically, it was the safest place possible in terms of street crime. Muggings made the headlines, usually because the muggers had been dealt with and dispatched by paramilitary groups the following day. It was liberating to walk through dimly-lit streets alone at 2am with no fear of danger.

Summers were different. Come marching season, the whole city changed. In NI you get a fortnight's holiday over "The Twelfth" and most people get as far from major towns as is humanly possible, knowing full well the dangers about to kick off.

At the time I lived in an area known as the Holy Land - red-brick terraces in neat rows by the river, each named after a part of the Middle East - Palestine, Jerusalem, Damascus and, perhaps due to some Belfast oddity, Agincourt. It's an area populated by students and spides and the occasional young professional. It's built-up, run down, and situated right by the Lower Ormeau flashpoint.

That summer I decided to stay in Belfast. My parents were none too pleased but I was sure it'd be okay. The afternoon before Drumcree Sunday was hot and stifling. The sky was grey and oppressive, the bricks soaking up the heat, and an eerie stillness over the city. Every shop had the radio or TV on, constant news updates telling us that tensions were rising, unsettled with outbreaks of sporadic violence.

We bought some cheap cider and spent the afternoon on the front steps of our house sitting on sofa cushions and chatting to our neighbours. Helicopters droned monotonously overhead. Someone found a length of clothesline and we started playing skipping games in the street, three pissed girls in their early twenties jumping the rope. As we embarked on yet another version of "Jelly on a plate" we heard a rumbling, and a convoy of massive army Saracens came slowly past. We stood watching, the rope hanging slack in our hands. I felt like an extra from Welcome to Sarajevo.

At 9pm my mate decided to go home before they closed the Ormeau bridge - an attempted march was due the next morning. He phoned from the other side of the river saying that he'd got back okay, but that the whole way along Lower Ormeau there were sofas, deckchairs and sunloungers lining the road and that someone was projecting Braveheart onto a gable wall while the residents followed it avidly and vociferously, drank their carryouts and whipped themselves into an anti-British frenzy.

It all kicked off at dark. I was watching it on the TV when I heard the same noises from outside the window. Sure enough, the BBC camera man was now looking at the same scene as me, and the petrol bombs on my screen were the same ones on my street.

Who cares who's to blame - I loved that city. Peace has changed NI, though not just for the best. Thank god the days of dreading the 6pm news are over, but amid the terror and the cynicism and the fear there was something profoundly beautiful about a city that shoulders its burden and keeps going in its own way.
( crackhouseceilidhband Fuck off back to Mumsnet, Thu 14 Feb 2008, 13:35, 3 replies)

I'm English and Catholic.
If I lived in Belfast, would both sides want to beat me up?
( idonthaveafunnynickname Drink-Aware? Sure. I'm aware I want another drink., Fri 15 Feb 2008, 1:56, closed)

I'd just like to say...
This piece of writing is incredibly, er, filmic. It just painted a really well drawn picture, and I could see it in my head. Not often that happens.

*clicks* (I enjoyed the story too, natch...)
( Devil_In_Tights the *real* DiT!, Fri 15 Feb 2008, 12:44, closed)

thanks!
Also, yes, my dad (Catholic) married my mum (Protestant) - big uproar. My dad's twin brother married a Catholic, but she was English so the family uproared even more.
( crackhouseceilidhband Fuck off back to Mumsnet, Fri 15 Feb 2008, 13:34, closed)