CRISIS PR - it felt like a crisis every day for three months.

The recent threats made against port staff in Larne Harbour, Northern Ireland, reminded me of when I worked, albeit briefly, as a press and PR officer for the port.

It was during the height of the ‘Troubles’ in the 1970s and I was on secondment from Townsend Thoresen, the cross-Channel and Irish Sea ferry operator whose parent company owned the port.

After taking the Townsend Thoresen ferry from the tiny harbour of Cairnryan on the west coast of Scotland I checked into the impressive Victorian pile, the King’s Arms Hotel in Larne.

I awoke the following morning to find a typewritten note under the bedroom door which said words to the effect “we don’t want you here, go back home”.

I sat eating my breakfast in silence thinking what had I got myself into. When I got into work, I went to see the Larne Habour’s port director and nervously showed him the note. He seemed totally unconcerned. “Don’t worry it’s just the IRA signalling that they have noted your arrival.”

After the first night’s incident and saddled with a surname like Minton-Taylor no-one could quite figure out if I was a Protestant or Catholic, so I decided to become an honorary self-appointed Jew to ensure I was seen as ‘neutral’, or so I thought.

Larne is a majority Protestant town and had the late Rev. Ian Paisley as its MP. I found his bark bigger than his bite. It never really surprised me that he later got on so well with Martin McGuinness. They shared the same humour and Paisley was as much worried about the welfare of his Catholic constituents in the port and on the ferries as he was of his Protestant flock.

I recall driving down the A2 from Larne to Belfast with the port manager in the driver’s seat when we were flagged down by a group of armed men in balaclavas.

We slowed down and came to a stop. The port manager gingerly wound down his driver’ window and said to one of the men who shone a torch into his face: “don’t be bloody stupid it’s me, don’t you recognise the car”.

After I got through the shock of this incident, I asked the manager who they were. “Oh, they’re the local branch of the IRA. They won’t touch us. I employ them in Belfast.”

So, a Protestant port director was the boss of a predominantly Catholic workforce in Belfast, while the reverse was true in Larne. Townsend Thoresen’s parent company European Ferries (which later became P&O Ferries) owned the Larne Harbour as well as having interests in the Port of Belfast.

Three months later and on my last night in Northern Ireland, I was taken by the port director to have a farewell drink. The bar was on the edge of Belfast docks where I was due to board Belfast Steamship Company’s overnight ferry to Liverpool.

The pub was rammed with dockers. An Irish tricolour flag hung behind the bar. It was dimly lit and the fug of tobacco smoke made it difficult to clearly see people’s faces, except up close. The port director’s only advice to me before entering the bar was “don’t refuse a drink and you’ll be alright”.

My first drink swiftly arrived from a guy who introduced himself as one of the balaclava headed men who’d shone a torch into our car on the A2.

After what seemed like a lot of shorts and Guinness, I was offered a double shot of Bushmills[i] by an unnerving looking guy. “It’s protestant, but it’ll suit you,” said the docker. “I’m sorry about the note under the door, but we don’t like mainland Brits here and your dad was in the British Army.”

Somewhat stunned about his knowledge of my background I said something like: “I might have been baptised a protestant, but I’m an agnostic, my dad never served in Northern Ireland and he’s dead."

I knew I had gone way too far as soon as I had said it. The copious amounts of alcohol I had downed were taking their toll in this Catholic watering hole. The docker just smiled, patted me on the shoulder and walked away to talk to one of his mates.

My cack-handed attempt to reassign my religion hadn’t fooled them. They’d obviously done the ‘due diligence’ on my dad too except he had long retired from the 8th Army.

I don’t remember much after that, except waking up the following morning with a splitting headache and to the sound of someone hammering on my cabin door. A steward popped his head inside and said: “Unless you want to sail back with us to Belfast sir, I suggest you disembark now.” How I managed to get onto the ship in Belfast and onto my bunk was never explained.

The 1970s was an unnerving time in the Northern Ireland. Key public buildings were sandbagged and oil drums filled with cement supported wire netting around windows and doors to safeguard them and the people from the excesses of bomb blasts.

You didn’t get into a car before checking for objects lurking underneath first or travel anywhere unless you had first informed the police of your route, well not at any rate as an employee of a mainland English company. Troops patrolling on streets were a regular feature. [For a few months after returning to the mainland if a car backfired I’d instinctively lie prostrate on my front on the ground with my hands covering my neck].

In 2016 I returned to Northern Ireland 40+ years after my first visit. I was on a motoring holiday with my wife Caroline. On our last day I wanted to show her the King’s Arms Hotel in Larne. I couldn’t find it, so I assumed it had been pulled down.

When I got back home, I Googled the hotel’s name and found that it had been bombed by the IRA. Fortunately, no-one had been killed.

Northern Ireland is a country full of contradictions. The people are friendly and genuinely welcoming. The cuisine is good, and the hotels have changed much for the better. The scenery is stunning and the cities are culturally fascinating. And of course, if you are a Game of Thrones fan it’s a must visiting the filming locations. But I couldn’t help but notice that some things hadn’t altered since my last visit. 

The ‘Peace Wall’, between the nationalist Falls Road and unionist Shankill Road areas of West Belfast, is still there. The mural of Bobby Sands, the Provisional IRA member who died on hunger strike, is freshly painted.

As we were travelling just weeks after the marching season, Palestinian and Republic of Ireland flags were very much in evidence in Catholic towns and villages as were the Union Jack and Israeli flags in Protestant communities on the Antrim coast.

Northern Ireland students studying in England no longer remove their crucifixes when they return home, but mixed faith schools are still somewhat of a rarity in the country. Old animosities sadly still remain.

But the innovative and enterprising young are the future of Northern Ireland. Having a Protestant boyfriend if you are Catholic girl is no longer a big deal or something to be feared (although you may not wish to tell your grandparents or parents, if of a certain age).

 Postscript

As a touring destination Northern Ireland has some outstanding vistas and cities. The A2 Antrim Coast Road from Derry to Larne is cited as one of the most scenic coastal drives in the world as it skirts round Dunluce Castle, Carrick-a-Rede Rope Bridge, the basalt columns of the Giant’s Causeway and the delightful towns and villages like Ballycastle, Cushenden and Cushendall

Further south the Mourne Mountains are wonderful as is the area around Strangford Lough. We checked into The Cuan in picturesque Strangford and were warmly welcomed. Our bedroom we were told was the one Sean Bean used when he was filming scenes for the Game of Thrones at the nearby magnificent Castle Ward stately home and its grounds. (The guest house changed hands in 2020 and has been poshed-up considerably).

The Titanic Museum in Belfast was worth the visit alone to the city and apart from focusing on the ship it also told a brilliant story of the social heritage of shipbuilding in the city. 

I want to go back to Northern Ireland, and soon. I miss the people, their cultural diversity, their unique sense of black humour. And Bushmills 10-Year-Old Irish single malt whiskey isn’t half bad either.

[i] The Old Bushmills Distillery is in Bushmills a protestant town near the north Antrim coast.