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CHAPTER 3

‘Blitzed, strife-torn corner of the earth.’

Sat, Feb 12

Daddy had to go to a meeting to represent the Citizens’ Defence Committee with other businessmen etc. In afternoon, we decided to go to Lisburn where Mr Craig was having a rally of the new movement he has created, ‘Ulster Vanguard’.

I got a new pair of shoes – suede – and I think they’re lovely. Turned on the heater in my room tonight, planned to do Maths revision. However, I couldn’t be fussed and turned it off again. Spent night watching television.

Mrs Gordon came up and we all sat and had bowls of vegetable soup. Daddy and Mammy gave me a long, interesting and ‘wise’ lecture on getting married and the risks involved. Made me feel I wanted to be a spinster – I don’t think!!

I was an ordinary 16-year-old living in extraordinary circumstances. Our lives had been turned upside down and yet, closeted in my bedroom night after night, I was beset by the same concerns as many adolescents the world over: would I be afflicted with teenage acne like so many of my classmates? Why hadn’t I been born with straight instead of curly hair? Why were my breasts not as developed as those of lots of my friends? Would I ever have a boyfriend or would my physical shortcomings stop me having a teenage admirer, husband or children?

In my earlier teens, with no prospect of romance on the horizon, I used to worry that my parents wouldn’t live long enough to see me married. By the spring of 1972, as violence tightened its stranglehold, I added the absence of a social life to the list of obstacles blocking my path to true love.

My mother and father had no cause to caution me about not rushing into marriage. I had never even come close to being asked out on a date, let alone ‘going steady’ with anyone. My all-girls school afforded me few opportunities to become acquainted with members of the opposite sex. My world was small and intimate, revolving around my family, St Dominic’s and a small circle of friends and companions. The escalating violence provided me with a distraction from what I considered to be an otherwise boring and mundane existence. I struggled to stay focused on my schoolwork and, like everyone else, began to adjust to the new ‘normality’.

By the middle of February I was accustomed to walking to and from school, to having my homework interrupted by the sound of explosions or gunfire, to listening to every news bulletin that I could, and shopping well away from the city centre. I expected my father to go out to meetings a couple of nights a week, to spend hours on end writing at the living room table, and that neighbours would call to our home at all hours of the day and night, in a way they had never done before.

Sun, Feb 13

Daddy going to annual Civil Rights Association meeting. Shock news of new proposals for settlement here announced in Sunday Times – later denied by Heath, probably true.

Body of unidentified man found in Fermanagh, sack over head, shot. Did Maths revision in case we get test tomorrow. Went over to shops at 9.30 with Mammy. The road was really eerie – not one street light, due to power cuts or else riots, no shop lighting and no people. Glad to get home.

500 attended Northern Resistance meeting and march in Enniskillen, therefore broke ban on parades again!

Mon, Feb 14

No St. Valentine cards – didn’t really expect one.

The buses are back, a joy to see them. Place almost back to normal, boys don’t even stone troops now – IRA have threatened them!

Soldiers in grounds of our school this morning – apparently a bomb scare. We didn’t even get outside. Ironic.

Got English results – nearly died when I came 1st. Unbelievable. Shock no.2 came in RK, when Sister V said that my test and three others were good. I came 1st again – 89%. Agnes seemed stunned and so was I.

Took half day because Jim and Paul are off school. Hectic afternoon – the dog knocked down the plant holder and ran off with the plant!

7 bombs in town, no injuries. Man found shot yesterday turned out to be a soldier (lived in Dublin).

Maths test tomorrow because we didn’t do it on Wednesday – can’t win. Frankie rang – I FAILED Applied Maths.

Shrove Tuesday, Feb 15

Pouring rain and very dark. As usual, we slept in.

Spanish papers weren’t corrected. Sister Virgilius said she thought my answer on existentialism was excellent – in fact it was all guess work! I was scared stiff going in to Applied Maths class – but she didn’t say anything about my test, so I didn’t worry. Saw my mistakes – carelessness. Spent free class preparing for Maths exam, rest of school sent home half day. Only 8 idiots left to do Maths – were told we could do them at home if we wanted! Not too bad.

2 bombs in town – Sawyer’s and an engineering works completely wrecked.

Had piles of greasy, sugary pancakes for tea – lovely. Had made up my mind not to open a book tonight – kept my word and opened nothing except this diary.

Ash Wednesday, Feb 16

One of the coldest and most miserable days I have come across this winter. Into school as usual. Had intended going to 8.30 Mass but wasn’t there in time. Got French marks – 55%, hope to get Maths and Spanish marks tomorrow.

In spite of going to bed fairly early last night, I am exhausted today and decided to go even earlier tonight. However it is now 11.15 and I’m still up.

Wrote to the Bank Buildings about a job – keeping fingers crossed.

Last night was a relatively peaceful night – 5 men shot by IRA for stealing, only one seriously injured. Bomb in tyre manufacturer’s in Belfast this afternoon.

Spent night by the fire trying to keep half warm, frozen all night.

Newsflash: soldier killed by shooting and gelignite bomb on M1 near Lisburn. Man hooded and shot dead in Derry – probably IRA job.

On that miserable note, get into bed.

Thurs, Feb 17

Didn’t bother to go round to Assembly – too tired and fed up. Got Maths marks – 58% – terrible disappointment, had (though I hate to say it) expected more. Liz and Frankie got around 80%. No Spanish results.

I looked like a wreck today – white face and black rings under my eyes – decided to go to bed early but didn’t go till 12!

Didn’t keep my Lent resolution either. Didn’t go to Mass, too lazy and tired. Have decided to go every second day instead.

Daddy’s birthday tomorrow and then he’s off to Edinburgh on Monday, shall miss him. (Haven’t bitten my nails for 3 days now, must keep it up).

Man shot in Derry was 45-year-old Catholic UDR man. A callous murder. Soldier killed was 18 years old. 3 bombs in town, no serious injuries, thank God.

Lent had just begun but my commitment to my resolutions was already wavering. Belfast, in the spring of 1972, was no place for self-sacrifice and mortification.

The weather was unremittingly dreary and my exam results were neither as good as I had hoped nor as impressive as they would have been in the past. The Applied Maths test which had turned out so badly for me was only a ‘mock’ A-Level but I had never failed an examination before. I hated the subject with a vengeance; nevertheless, the news of my failure – delivered so gleefully by one of my ‘friends’ – left me shattered and humiliated. There appeared to be no prospect of me getting away from Belfast, and the IRA was slowly but surely cranking up the pressure.

Traditionally, the six-week period before Easter inspired an attempt at self-denial and we saved the sweets that were given to us or bought with our own pocket money. On St Patrick’s Day, mid-way through our period of penance, we feasted on a congealed mass of Fruit Salads, Black Jacks, Drumsticks and Toffee Logs, scoffing the remainder on Easter Sunday. Five months before my seventeenth birthday, I decided I was too grown up for such childish observance and opted, as the nuns exhorted us, to do something positive and worthy like going to daily Mass instead. My resolution – like my resolve – was short-lived.

Life was generally depressing, my self-discipline was shaky but mothers and fathers seemed to be made of sterner stuff. Remarkably, the wheels of family life kept turning and parents went about their business, not just in my home but in the majority of homes across Belfast, as a new normality established itself.

Every weekday morning, my father left home just after eight o’clock and made his way by whatever means of transport was available – bus, black taxi or on foot – to his desk in Churchill House in the city centre. At midday, my mother set out for the part-time job she loved; looking after dozens of West Belfast’s most deprived three- and four-year-olds. Operating from a prefab on the Upper Glen Road, she and her colleagues supplied these innocents with paper and chubby crayons; ‘playdough’ made up daily from flour, water and dye; storybooks and sand – and shielded them for four hours from the brutality outside. Across the city, despite the unrest, shopping was done, houses were cleaned, children were sent to school and church, and to doctors’ and dentists’ appointments. Meals were cooked and pancakes were served up on Shrove Tuesday.

The disturbing prospect of my father being sent to Edinburgh within a matter of days to attend a three-week Post Office training course unsettled me. I couldn’t remember him ever being away from us before, other than on the rare occasion when he and my mother might have spent a night in Dublin, and I was worried about what might happen while he was gone. I wished he didn’t have to leave us.

Fri, Feb 18

Daddy’s birthday. We haven’t bought him anything yet but we’ll get him something before he goes to Scotland.

Three MPs – Unionist Phelim O’Neill, Independent Tom Gormley and Bertie McConnell – join the Alliance Party. Their first 3 MPs, doing well considering their party was only established last year.

Daddy went to a meeting of the Citizens’ Defence Committee tonight – Annual General Meeting – and was nominated as the new Press officer. All pleased with himself. Came home about 12 and then went down to Gordon’s.

Couple more explosions down town – no re-ports of anyone being injured.

I proudly shared my father’s delight when he told us he had been officially installed as the CDC press officer. The role was entirely voluntary and the organisation’s decision to acknowledge the time and effort he had selflessly devoted to it since early in the Troubles was no more than he was due.

He often quoted the assertion by the eighteenth-century Irish political thinker, Edmund Burke, that, ‘All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing.’ Like many other decent men and women who cared passionately about what was happening to their community, he was trying to steer it away from the abyss into which we appeared to be heading. We adjusted our family routine to allow him to incorporate new ‘political’ activities into his already busy days.

On the nights he was free from meetings, he lit his pipe and took up his customary position at the living room table. Surrounded by newspapers, files and folders he began writing speeches, sending letters to newspapers and drafting press statements.

Many adjourned SDLP or CDC meetings reconvened informally in our living room, or members who had missed a gathering would drop in to be updated. It wasn’t unusual for our neighbours, the Gordons and McGlades, to arrive at our front door as late as midnight, especially if a major incident had been reported on the late night news. My mother, always at the centre of these impromptu get-togethers, provided supper and refreshments, while the chatting and speculation continued into the early hours of the morning.

Sat, Feb 19

Slept in for a while and Aidan brought my breakfast up to bed because, he said, I would be helping him with his French next week – sort of takes things for granted!

Mammy, Daddy, Paul and I went over to the shops – at least the ones which remain! Stoning troops etc. – usual practice for a Saturday afternoon.

I made the tea and watched the Cliff Richard Show. Fairly peaceful day.

Sun, Feb 20

We went to 10 o’clock Mass. Daddy goes off tomorrow, therefore he and Mammy making the best of each other. Watched ‘A Tale of Two Cities’ with Dirk Bogarde – too much! Went for a drive down to the docks to see where the Ardrossan boat sets out from, however everywhere is closed up.

Had birthday party (belated) for Daddy and then went out to shops later with Mammy. We bought piles of sweets for Daddy. I carried them home, only to discover that there was a hole in the bag. Had to re-trace our steps back to the shop, along the deserted, unlit road. I’m sure we looked really peculiar!

Mon, Feb 21

Got up, knew Daddy leaves today for Edinburgh. Decided to take half day or at least get out early. Came fourth in Spanish, 64%, very surprised.