For those of you not living in Northern Ireland, the past few weeks have seemed surreal. Up until today our weather was
mediterranean almost mediterranean in quality, with bright sunshine every day and even a little considerate dew in the morning to keep the plants happy. All the news was good, and there’s still hardly a cloud in sight. Little update below the foldHaving grown up partly in Ireland and having been very involved with the politics of the place, and felt I had a reasonable understanding of the comings and goings, the complexities, the raw feeling that drove our conflict. I once met Ian Paisley in the 1970’s and although he was unfailingly polite to our delegation, he terrified me!
Like many others, I think I have been just a little suspicious of this recent outbreak of love and understanding. Unfortunately, I think many of us are waiting for it to go tits up, in a manner of non-sexist speaking.
Well anyway, this morning I was gently waking from my slumber trying to take things easy after a little episode recently. In the background, I heard the unmistakeable Martina Purdy doing a piece on Marty and the Doc. She re-played the Jose Manuel Barosa incident, and when Martin McGuinness was asked how he felt about Paisley calling him ‘Deputy’, he replied that he felt it was meant in an endearing way. He calls him Ian you see, and thinks that they are getting on just magically.
Well, that was that for me. I am now convinced that either the end of the world is nigh, or we are all collectively asleep and will wake sharply from this pleasant land of make believe. Lets all just hope that what we are not doing is sleep walking into another nightmare.
wee bit extra:
I hadn’t really considered that the Sheriff (I like that, thanks Aldamir), had actually been taken away by aliens, or indeed by the fairies like a changeling in the old Irish fairy tales. But then I read Suzanne Breen’s piece and I felt dizzy.
Indeed, Paisley thinks the Republic’s politicians should pay heed to what’s happening across the border: “They’re tearing strips of each other down there,” he says (with obvious delight). “They should learn to love one another, to copy the example of the hate-mongers in Northern Ireland!”
And do you know that feeling when you suspect (gasp) that your parents might be sexual (yeuch):
His only complaint is that family life has suffered in recent weeks: “I hardly see Eileen at all. I’m out with the girlfriend, Miss Work, all the time and she’s a terror – a real slave driver. I will be glad to get back to the soft, tender embrace of Eileen when things settle down.”
Anyway, you couldnt make this stuff up, so it must be happening.