Fetching The Camera

The most salutary lesson I learned, living in Belfast was to come on the ‘Glorious Twelfth’ of July 1949. By this time I had just about learned that it was referred to as the Glorious Twelfth. An aunt living in Bangor, who had borrowed a camera from our next-door neighbour, had unfortunately been rushed to hospital. The neighbours were going on holiday that evening with the result, the camera had to be collected and returned that day. We had a council of war and it was decided that I should cycle to Bangor to fetch it. The reason for the bicycle was that public transport would be packed and it might be quicker by cycle.

As I passed the ‘Field’ at Ballyrobert, which bordered the main Belfast-to-Bangor road, I saw the Orangemen lying about on the grass enjoying the glorious sunshine, it was indeed a Glorious Twelfth. They had marched there from all arts and parts and would soon be returning from whence they came, With much to-ing and fro-ing I collected the camera and headed back to Belfast and all went well until I was on the outskirts of Holywood, a seaside town about five miles from Belfast. These days the road is a wide dual carriageway with at least six lanes and a hard shoulder. Then it wound picturesquely between overhanging trees and was about wide enough for two cars to just pass comfortably in opposite directions,. Whether it even had footpaths I forget. I came across the Orangemen on their return journey some half a mile from Holywood and they were marching between cheering crowds to the extent that there was no room to pass on either side. I could hear the strains of the band and way up ahead was a man striding out in his bowler hat, his dark suit and his white gloves, sword to the ready.

At this time I was totally unaware of how sacrosanct these parades were and, as I have said elsewhere, equated them on a par with the Sally Ann or the Scouts The problem was to get the camera to our friends PDQ, and as there was no way round, the solution seemed to be to go through. After all I assumed as I was riding on the Queen’s highway I had the right of way. No sooner had the idea presented itself than I acted, but I had hardly advanced more than a couple of ranks before I was being stabbed from behind with a sort of pike, it was a long stained pole topped by a brass emblem like a fleur de lys, which I then recognised as a Deacon Pole, taken from a church pew. This prodding only hurried me on through the ranks and I suspect that as I was the first since the days of King William to have had such gall, I took them all by surprise and got away with it. As I cycled on my way I looked back to discover that the man with the white gloves and the sword had forgotten to put his collar and tie back on since lying in the grass in the hot, hot sun, at the ‘Field’

At the time, I was a student and had a summer job on a building site as part of my training. I was under the supervision of a Clerk of Works (COW) on a sewer contract. The COW was also a Worthy Master of a very influential Orange Lodge and many a time I was asked to leave the office while someone was seeking an audience with the COW, and many of the someones were often to be seen in photographs on the front page of our local newspapers, standing importantly in front of some official building. I believe the COW was a person to be deferred to and whose political career was even more extensive than his job

When I had successfully returned the camera on the Twelfth and was having my evening meal I related the happenings of the day with great amusement and it was greeted by the family in the same vein, not so the COW. Oh dear no! On the next working day, when I related it to him, smiling as I spoke, slowly his face turned to thunder and he wasn’t kidding either. When I finished he said one sentence with such venom, any thought of him being humorous was out of the question and then he stumped out of the hut and off down the site.

He shouted,” Prod you with a Deacon pole? Prod you? I’d have stuck the f….. thing into you so far I’d ‘ve had to put my boot on you to pull it out”, and he meant it!

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