I’ve heard Holywood called a lot of things, both by its better informed natives (some of it not repeatable) and less well informed strangers (some also not repeatable). But now apparently it is Northern Ireland’s best place to live.
For me it’s the people who make places worth living in, but it helps that “the shore” is just around the corner, and you can walk to Bangor after Mass with your best mate and the dog. And take the train home.
And the hills are just above, where, if you’re crazy enough, you can make it all the way to Ards (two buses home).
You can play cricket, rugby, hockey, golf (of course) and GAA (in my day before state funding the cricket club cut the grass in return for an edge of the pitch, and occasionally a hapless prod was sent home to get their boots so we could field a team).
Mixed marriages if not the norm were common. I knew of one guy who went to the PP to ask permission to marry his Catholic bride only to discover he (who had identified as a Protestant all his life) was already baptised Catholic.
As different church communities we had access to each other in a thousand different tiny ways. When the Troubles came our solidarity held whilst mayhem reigned across Northern Ireland. We refused to give each other up.
It’s not as pretty as other places. It’s only one boundary change from being swallowed whole by Belfast. But Holywood, Co Down was and no doubt still is a great and very human place to live. I still miss it very much.
“Noel, Noel, Noel, No “L”” by Sister72 is licensed under CC BY
Mick is founding editor of Slugger. He has written papers on the impacts of the Internet on politics and the wider media and is a regular guest and speaking events across Ireland, the UK and Europe. Twitter: @MickFealty