CHATTER

At the beginning of 1969 the introduction of the Age of Majority Act was the signal for our decision  to plan our engagement.  By the end of the year we would be able to get married without parental permission. Up until now twenty one was the age of consent so we couldn’t have got married without permission from a parent. When I think back it was just as well it happened then or we would probably have been married at Gretna Green as elopement seemed to be the only answer. I’m not sure Gordon ever proposed to me it was just something we drifted into. The most romantic thing he ever said to me in those days was that I was like a fungus … I grew on him. Well he is a Virologist

My mother suspected something was up.  Could have been the Bride’s magazine in my weekend case that gave the game away.  My father was unaware of the seriousness of the romance but I think he would have rejected any possible suitors until I was at least 30 and it still wouldn’t have been a prod or so I thought. He suspected I was still going out with Gordon and I had to listen to him lecturing me about the dangers of a mixed marriage. Being a devout Catholic he was against divorce and contraception and anticipated all sorts of problems.  It wasn’t his fault,  it was how he had been brought up. Contraception and divorce were wrong. Says a lot for how he thought my romance would survive. When I finally broached the subject and asked if I could bring Gordon to meet him he refused. I eventually got through to him how serious the romance was but he steadfastly held his views. This led to many heated arguments.

In the late sixties I attended a Manfred Mann concert.  I think it was 1969. It was in the Floral Hall and was a freezing night as I recall but the hubby-to-be borrowed the father’s car and we drove up the Antrim Road in style. He was supposed to be playing badminton in Newry but I gave him five shillings towards the petrol and he diverted to Belfast. Mike D’Abo had taken over from lead singer Paul Jones.

The hall was beautiful and I remember the ceiling in particular but at nineteen I didn’t appreciate its grandeur. I was in front of the stage and more interested in the group. Not sure whether we went outside for a ciggie or a snog but the doorman wouldn’t let us back in again. We ended up listening to the rest of the concert though an open window at the side of the building. I can now appreciate its Art Deco style and would love to see it restored to its former glory.  We have some beautiful Art Deco buildings in Belfast going to wreck and ruin. Another one is the Bank of Ireland in Royal Avenue. Shame on Belfast City Council. Another observation from those days of the Floral Hall, the Astor and the Orpheus. All religions mixed together and nobody queried what religion you were. Venues like this tend to encourage integration.

Meanwhile we were getting on with our plans to get engaged. The first big problem was how we could afford it. Gordon’s monthly salary was £28, mine around £26. Out of that we had to pay our rent, electric, food and bus fares, clothe ourselves and entertain ourselves. So we decided to split the cost. The ring cost £60 so saving £5 per month each we could get engaged in June.  Looking back on it now we looked like two twelve-year olds as we headed into Brownes in Church Lane to choose the ring.   But we were streetwise and able to look after ourselves having flown the nest at such a young age.

Unfortunately the troubles were still brewing in the background

The People’s Democracy marches were being attacked by both police and loyalists. This resulted in the formation of ‘ Free Derry’  as the residents sealed off the Bogside in order to protect themselves.

Terence O ‘Neill tried to make concessions to the Civil Rights movement but Loyalists called for his resignation and he resigned.  Such a pity.  He did his best.

Following the explosion at the Silent Valley there was a second explosion at a water pipeline carrying supplies to Belfast. [It was later established that the bomb was planted by Loyalists who were members of the Ulster Volunteer Force (UVF) and the Ulster Protestant Volunteers (UPV). Much of Belfast was without water following the latest explosion] Cain . Chronicles of the Troubles.

Although most of the violence came from the Loyalists in 1969 it wouldn’t be long until the violence was coming from both sides.

Despite the violence ‘operation save for an engagement ring ‘ was underway.  On a beautiful sunny day in June, we drove G’s granny back to Limavady.  She had been staying in Warrenpoint with the family. Much as we loved her she was a staunch Baptist so there was no watching TV on a Sunday and no Sunday newspapers so we were quite happy to bring her back to Eventide Gardens.  We detoured to Belfast on the way home making use of having the family car. The ring had been chosen previously and it was being sized. We needed to pick it up.  We stopped in High Street on double yellow lines hoping to quickly collect our purchase in R A Browne in Church Lane.  ‘Oi, you can’t park there’ came a voice.  Yes, there were traffic wardens in Belfast in 1969.  We explained that we were going to get engaged, that our parents were unaware and we needed to get back with the car.  ‘Ok,’ he said , ‘off you go, I’ll give you 15 minutes.’   He did. We collected the ring and headed back to break the news to the two families who were unaware of what was about to hit them. I couldn’t stop smiling and admiring my ring all the way back to the Point.

The first stop was G’s house where the news was accepted with good grace.  Despite the hugs and kisses there was a definite holding back. I knew they were having doubts about this Catholic interloper. Later I heard that G’s mother had been counselled by friends that there would be loads of children as I wouldn’t practice contraception. We would be living from hand to mouth apparently feeding and clothing these imaginary kids. But the announcement went reasonably well. The biggie was still to come.

Gordon dropped me off at my house. I decided it was better that I told them on my own. My mum was in the kitchen and I showed her my ring.  I can’t honestly say she was over the moon but she didn’t explode. My dad was in the back yard and I went out showed him the ring and told him I was engaged. ‘ I don’t want to see it’ he said. ‘ I want nothing to do with it’ he said. ‘ I don’t want to hear about it’ he said.  I was heartbroken but determined not to let him see.  ‘Fine’ I said.  Things were very cool for the next 24 hours.  We barely spoke to each other.

At 3pm the next day Gordon called for me in his dad’s car.  As was normal he didn’t come in.  ‘Go and tell G. to come in’ my mother said.  I looked at her in amazement. ‘Take him up to the sitting room and introduce him to your father’ she said. My legs turned to jelly and I felt my heart speed up.  ‘Do as you are told’ she said,’ it will be fine’  Gordon was reluctant to come in but after a bit of persuasion he agreed.  ‘This is Gordon’ I said.   Well!  If he didn’t shake him by the hand, ask him to sit down and start chatting as if he was a long lost friend. I was flabbergasted, in fact my flabber had never been so gasted.  Daddy had been brought a watch from Hong Kong which had somehow managed to evade customs.  We were told not to talk about it, so we knew that Gordon had been accepted when he was immediately shown and told the story about the watch.

In a few minutes the preceding four years meant nothing.  I have no real idea what my mother said to my dad that changed his mind.  But I have an inkling that the fact that on two occasions they had nearly lost me may have been a factor. My parents accepted Gordon whole heartedly into the family that day and that was how it remained.  However there were others who hadn’t given up on trying to separate us. Tell you about that next time.

 

http://cain.ulst.ac.uk/

 

https://www.change.org/p/belfast-city-council-restore-the-floral-hall-at-belfast-zoo-2

 

We have reached 1967/68 in my ongoing saga.  In 1967 my favourite pirate radio station Radio Caroline was outlawed.  In America thousands were protesting about the war in Vietnam. Flower power was everywhere and Scott McKenzie was singing about ‘going to San Francisco.’   In the Middle East,  Israel went to war with Syria,  Egypt and Jordan now called the ‘six day war.’  My sister-in – law and her family were evacuated from Beirut.  I remember talk of another world war.   It was a scary time and there was talk of petrol rationing because of the oil embargo.

In Autumn of 1968 I decided to go and visit my friend Moira who was now at college in Nottingham. I had enough to pay the air fare and I remember asking my mum for some spending money. She gave me £3 and that plus the £2 I had already,  lasted me the weekend. I left in the evening from Aldergrove ( now Belfast International airport). I got a fright when I saw that the plane had propellers and looked a lot different from the jet I had flown in to France. We had to fly to Dublin pick up passengers and then continue our journey to Nottingham. I remember taking the hand of a poor man sitting beside me and holding on like grim death during take offs and landings.  Spent the weekend at a party! Got a bus back to Castledonington on the Sunday night in thick fog to find we were being bussed to Birmingham. Arrived back late to find Gordon waiting for me on the tarmac. That was the arrival area in those days.

The romance was still going strong.  We were living in Belfast and we both went home on the bus to Rostrevor and Warrenpoint every weekend.  With none of today’s communication devices available Rostrevor seemed a long way away.  What a rush it was to get from Dundonald on a Friday evening to Gt. Victoria street station. There, with a lot of other commuters we took the bus to Newry.  In those days the express stopped in Hillsborough, Dromore, and Banbridge. The M1 was completed in 1968 and that made the trip a little quicker.

‘That’s my dad…Director of Homeland Security.’

Of course when we got to Newry my dad was usually waiting to bring me home to Rostrevor.  Gordon had to wait for a connection as we couldn’t be seen together. We spent weekends like two MI5 agents syncronising times and places to meet.  On one occasion we saw my dad’s car coming and Gordon flung himself over the shore wall. Thankfully the tide was out. On a Sunday evening I would be left back up to Newry to get the bus back to Belfast, cases full of clean laundry, packet soups and always a couple of tins of Heinz sponge puddings.  Unknown to my parents, Gordon and I would then stand outside the old Ardmore Hotel ( now the police station) and hitch a lift back to the city. On one occasion when I wasn’t going back, Gordon and JT hitched a lift only to find it was with three of the Moody Blues who were on their way from Dublin to Belfast. Very nice lads was the verdict. They were a big group in 1968. I wouldn’t recommend hitching these days but it was grand in those days and it saved the bus fare.
My days in Dundonald House were taking its toll on my health. Not used to central heating I was having tonsillitis every few months. My absences were being noted by the ‘ establishment ‘ branch ( now Human Resources) and it was decided there was nothing else for it but to have the tonsils out. Not a nice prospect when you are 18. I was admitted to the Mater hospital for a tonsillectomy. It was my first time in the Mater and I can remember the resemblance to an old workhouse. I awoke after my op trying to climb up the Venetian blinds that covered the window beside my bed. It was hard to swallow and when I did it was like swallowing razor blades. I had few visitors as travel wasn’t easy in those days but Gordon was there come hail or shine. I went home four days later to recover. I weighed 6 stone and 7 lbs. The good thing about having my op was that my mum seeing how devoted Gordon was during my recuperation softened a bit and allowed Gordon to phone and to call when my dad wasn’t there.

It shows how naive we were in 1968 when we didn’t even notice when one of the girls in the flat became pregnant. We were conscious of the fact that she was putting on weight but put it down to eating too much. When she didn’t return after a weekend home we became aware of her condition. It was a warning to the rest of us. Some of my flat mates were shocked as pre -marital sex was frowned upon in 1968. I’m saying nothing!!  When my mum heard about the goings on there were suggestions that I should get a transfer to Newry and come back home. No way José was my reply.

It was a great time. We had parties, we went to the Astor the Orpheus, and the Queen’s hops.  We  went to see all the visiting groups who came to the ABC and to the Floral Hall. We ate out at restaurants like The Cotter’s Kitchen, The Skandia and the Wimpy Bar. We had by 1968 moved to Fitzroy Avenue.  Only one of the original girls from St. Paul’s Hostel in Bryson Street remained so we teamed up with two girls from Derry and moved in to our new accommodation. By coincidence the flat above us became vacant and Gordon,  JT and two of our friends from Warrenpoint  decided to rent it. It was a grand arrangement. I did a lot of cooking if I remember rightly.
There had been simmering tensions in NI since 1964 which we were completely oblivious to, wrapped up as we were in our own little world. Ian Paisley had set up the UPV in April of 66 and the UVF declared war on the IRA in the same year. A Protestant and two Catholics were killed by the UVF but we were still unaware of the deteriorating situation.

It was brought home what was happening  when in October the two Derry girls returned after the weekend back home where a civil rights march had taken place. They told us of  how  the civil rights march had been stopped and how they had seen marchers beaten by the police. They became active in the People’s Democracy group and were at Burntollet when it was ambushed.
In those days it was the UVF doing the bombing and I remember the night the Silent Valley reservoir was bombed. The noise was heard in Belfast and it was terrifying. I never dreamed  that the ‘troubles ‘ would last for thirty year and I would bring up two children during that time. I believe it could have been sorted out in the late 60’s had people been more magnanimous and agreed that equality was necessary. Personally I feel that Ian Paisley bore a large responsibility for the violence of the following thirty years.

Meanwhile Gordon and I had decided we would get married. Brilliant idea seeing that the age of consent was 21 and my father hadn’t even met my intended but I’ll tell you next time how that all panned out.