Gerry Anderson dies: “We have lost our jester…”

I remember coming home in the summer of 1988 to work on a number of summer schemes in Belfast, Lisburn, Ballynahinch and Holywood with an English colleague who’d never been to Northern Ireland before. My one insistence of the day was that I had to listen to Gerry Anderson at 10.30. It was like shot of something powerful and good in the midst of a less than good situation. Gerry’s was more than gallows humour. It was a light drop …

Read more…