Inflammable Material planted in my head

I always intended as a young man to impress the girls with my cars, later years has taught me this is a poor tactic, and fatherhood has changed the girls I have the most fun impressing. This is me taking Poppy (front), Holly ( rL) and Anna Holly's chum (rR) for a spin in my Aston with the roof down, prior to baldy day a few weeks ago. Little wheel spins on a wide clear street near us brought squeals of "do it again dad" and disapproving looks from the one pedestrian walking his dog. The Aston has a problem with its jacking point cracking which was picked up during an inspection today so is back to the garage to sort out under warranty (two days left on the warranty thankfully). When I was at the garage I saw two same year models with similar mileage for 10k more than I paid so it seems to be holding its value, which is what I hoped for, so I get some service hassle but its a lot cheaper than the depreciation on a new car (so far deputy blogger is buying that line).

Back to the title of this blog (which is a lyric about bigotry from stiff little fingers), a funny side of my extreme fatigue of the last few days is that when I start to recover I get bursts of energy which normally last for 2-3 hours, these can happen at any time of the day or night as I have been sleeping around the clock, just at the moment I am in one of these bursts at 2.35am. Before I decided to get up and sort out the family photos on the computer I was reflecting, in half sleep, on my teenage years as my brother Philip had taken my nephew Matthew to our old school and sent me a booklet on the history of the school including the stories of us running when we were shot at (only an air rifle, so did not really count in Belfast) in the playing fields, our buses being stoned on the way to school (and then the RUC escort patrol stating to the media that we broke the windows from the inside - a blatant lie). Finally the tragedy when a worker on the construction team was killed when a hand grenade was thrown into their minibus.

As I was working away on the photos I was listening to Sting on itunes which ran on naturally to Stiff Little Fingers, as I labelled files and moved things into order the music seeped into my mood reminding me of the anger I felt at the waste of life and the petty bigotry which is necessary to harbour and nuture the seeds and roots of resentment and injustice which is the core of terrorism in all conflicts. My learning's and lessons from this background are very amature, and probably a bit obvious, but never the less easily summarised:

1 To deal with a problem of so called terrorism (usually freedom fighters you do not agree with is a better definition) you have to deal with the reasons or the grievances in the main community.

2 More bigger better guns will not work, its easy to shoot and scoot, only a community (all factions) that wants to support and has a buy in and an interest in the solution, will stop the violence.

3 Talk to anyone who can make it happen, specially the leaders of the insurrection and influencing states, John Hume a remarkable and brave man started the dialogue that opened up the peace process by talking to the IRA and developing the concept that the violence would not work. Maggie Thatcher bravely talked to the Irish Government about the "joint problem" of N.Ireland both governments agreed to let it go if that would fix the problem. But in the end the leaders of the strong factions, not the middle men, have to be statesmen to carry it.

Anyway Stiff Little Fingers were a favourite group as we had friends from all sides, and Philip knew some of them. They were ahead of their time with a song called Alternative Ulster, some of the lines talk about the grip of the bigots and the paramilitary groups on our communities in the 70's and 80's, apologies to the writers for copyright and transcription mistakes I think they are worth a reflection here.

Take a look at were your living.
You've got the army on your street
And the RUC dog of repression is barking at your feet
Is this the kind of place you want to live
Is the the place you want to be
Is this the only life we're going to have

And they say their a part of you.. and that's not true you know
They say they've got control of you.. and that's a lie you know
They say you will never be... free, free

What we need is an Alternative Ulster
Grab it and change it its yours
Alternative Ulster be an anti security force
Alternative Ulster ignore the bores and their laws
Alternative Ulster alter your native land

Twenty five years later, this weekend, the IRA in the shape of the political party Sinn fein made the latest of a number of courageous steps by recognising and supporting the renamed RUC as the only correct and legitimate force for the upholding of law and order in Ulster, as part of a deal which will see them join government with old enemies. Now they and the others have to be accountable to the people and worry about jobs, health and the economy of my native land. Respect to people of true courage and conviction who are prepared to work with the real situation to make the life of the people better, true statesmen finally are creating the Alternative Ulster and the freedom we dreamed of. As someone who had one distant uncle an RUC man, another assassinated for being a catholic, who's dad worked for the British forces (fleet air arm), peace is a wonderful thing.

So a little bit of history tonight, but history, specially personal history, shapes us. Sometimes the most interesting conversations are about why we think differently and history is often the reason. I remember at the last Walleye camp finding myself at loggerheads with my friend Bill over Iraq, prior to it happening, only later did I reflect properly that our youth experiences and frames of reference were probably the cause, so I would have better spend my time exploring these than simply arguing about the resultant different conclusion.

Cheers for tonight, my other favourite band is the undertones who we would see live regulary they had cheerful songs including if I remember rightly an album "more songs about choclate and girls" to be honest they were my favourite, you can only be 17 once.....

Cheers

Gerry