8th September, 2022

In my late teens, I took a job in the sewing room at the Old Bleach Factory in Randalstown. I didn't stay long as my sewing was abysmal and the wee forewoman despaired of me. All I had to do was hem linen tea towels. It wasn't that hard. Even so, my efforts all ended up in the reject bin.

The 'girls' in the sewing room were a mixed bunch. All ages, all persuasions and all female. The only 'lads' were a couple of mechanics who were supposed to keep the machines running smoothly. From what I could see, that looked like a  very cushy number. The fellows seemed to spend most of the day hanging over the big cast iron radiators eyeing up the talent.

There was a group of young women from Toome who befriended me. Their leader, Marian came in one morning telling everyone how the Brits had smashed in their door while it was still dark and lifted two of her brothers. I was amazed that she had still bothered to come to work. If that had happened in our house we'd all have been bad with our nerves for weeks. Marian must have thrived on the excitement as a year or so after I left the job I read in the paper that she was up in court for hijacking a bus.

Our forewoman, whose name I cannot remember, was a small thin woman, probably in her late fifties. Her office, a roughly partitioned-off area, was covered in Union flags and pictures of the Royal Family. And even though she seemed a mild-mannered and unthreatening person I still felt uncomfortable with this display for she was marking her territory and asserting her superiority over the RCs.

So, although I did not have any issue with the Windsors it was made very clear to Catholics that they were not for the likes of us.

Fast forward to 1977. I'm in London for the summer and it's the Silver Jubilee and the place is decked out like the Twelfth with bells on. The Queen was out and about, she's all over the place and I never saw her once. My sister claims to have spotted her on several occasions but I had to make do with Connie Booth from Fawlty Towers, spotted buying calamine lotion in a Holland Park pharmacy.

It took another 34 years before I got the point of  Elizabeth II. I was in Donegal, recovering from a bout of food poisoning and the only TV channel we could get was RTE. And all that was on was coverage of the Queen's State Visit to Ireland. There she was, speaking a bit of Irish at a state banquet, attending a ceremony at the Garden of Remembrance, where she laid a wreath in memory of those who gave their lives fighting for freedom from British rule. And then, making a visit to the National Stud in Kildare, and just standing there quietly as a massive stallion reared up only yards from her. I have to say, I was impressed.