Last month Belfast was a hip and vibrant ‘short break’ destination. This month it has returned to 80’s terror. I remember visiting Belfast with a school friend of mine back in 1989. Brooke was working as an au pair in Tipperary in the south. We spent a few weeks hitching our way around Ireland and then up to Belfast where we picked up a hire car for a couple of days to visit Donegal in Northern Ireland. I remember it as a fantastic trip, with not a hint of fear, except perhaps in Belfast… I remember crossing the frontier to Northern Ireland with soldiers all fully armed, checking the car for guns and bombs, and then the city itself with certain streets blocked off for fear of wayward bullets.

I don’t remember being scared of bombs, I do remember being scared to drive a manual car over icy roads and through snow. For me never having lived with snow that was far more terrifying. It was there, I could see it. As opposed to the bombs which were far removed. That was political. As a 21 year old Australian, UK politics was far from the forefront of my worries. Funny how you can remove yourself like that.

Anyway, now that I’ve lived in, under, and surrounded by snow & ice in Montreal, the fear that I once had has dissolved into annoyance. UK politics however has become a way of life. I’m not claiming I’m up to date with where, why or what is happening all the time, but it certainly is right up there on my daily radar. This week more than ever, as Michelle has been instructed to go to Belfast for business next week. The worst possible timing as far as I’m concerned. Two weeks ago we would have tried to extend her business into a weekend away and I would come and join her, now, it’s an exercise in getting her there and back as quickly as possible, with the minimum of fuss.

Another example of how messed up this world is becoming.