Being born in 1973, I’ve vivid memories of growing up with the troubles. During the 1980s, eating breakfast before heading off to school, it was normal to hear the radio headlines lead with news of another bomb; another shooting. It was depressing and frightening. The trilogy of events in 1989: the SAS killing of three IRA members in Gibraltar, Michael Stones graveyard grenade attack, and the torture and murder of two off-duty British soldiers at one of those subsequent funerals was, for me, the scariest of times. It was all on TV and it was chilling stuff.

I remember the adults used to say: “There’ll never be peace in our lifetime.” It really was that bad. Yes, we were living in the south, away from the complexities of life in Northern Ireland.

We didn’t think much of Ian Paisley’s style of antagonism either

We were southern Catholic GAA people. I say “we” as in: the vast majority of people I knew and mixed with growing up. The same goes for many others in the 26 counties. But there was virtually no support for the IRA. In fact there was general abhorrence – they didn’t represent us. We didn’t think much of Ian Paisley’s style of antagonism either. We didn’t understand the North and they didn’t understand us. Looking back, there was a lot of misunderstanding and mistrust everywhere.

The late Seamus Bonner was one of Donegal’s greatest ever footballers. He was a garda and a great friend of mine. A more passionate Irishman you couldn’t meet. He told me the story of playing against Tyrone in the mid-1980s and one of the opposing players giving him the most horrendous abuse throughout the match for being a “free State policeman”.

I remember being so nervous and apprehensive; sitting in the back of the car crossing the border going to an Ulster championship match

It summed up that complex, tangled web of cross-community and cross-border relations, of Catholic/Protestant, nationalist/unionist, republican/loyalist contradictions in terms of religion, nationality and traditions. I’m sure it was thrown both ways too.

I remember being so nervous and apprehensive; sitting in the back of the car crossing the border going to an Ulster championship match in say, Belfast, Armagh, Irvinestown or Omagh. I remember being told to stay quiet as we queued at the border because “the army [could hear] what we were saying”. And then we’d reach the checkpoint. I’d peek out the window at soldiers in camouflage lying in the ditch with rifles. And a man in full fatigue with an English accent would ask Dad: “Where are you going?”

“Casement Park.”

“Enjoy the game, sir.”

And the adults in the car would comment on how nice he was because we didn’t get any hassle.

It’s difficult to explain those times to my children or anybody under the age of 35 for that matter. Maybe that’s why Sinn Féin has such a large vote among people from that age group today?

We disliked the IRA but we also disliked the way staunch unionists looked down on us

They don’t remember the black days. Back in the 1980s, whatever about north of the border, my memory is that very few Irish people had any time for the IRA or Sinn Féin. And we hadn’t any time for their nemeses on the other side, either. We disliked the IRA but we also disliked the way staunch unionists looked down on us.

Thankfully, we now live in a contrasting era we didn’t think was ever possible. In my opinion it is thanks, unquestionably, to the foresight, selflessness, logic and influence of just one man. Even during those horrific days of 1980s Ireland, we always clung to the promise and sincerity of that man. His name was John Hume. Every single person on this island owes him their eternal gratitude. May he rest in peace.

A surprise gift from me to me

I was chuffed to receive garments I bought online for the very first time this week. The fact they arrived six weeks after ordering is another matter!