THE Belfast accent has its advantages, of that there can be no doubt. Mainly (and I’m referring to us blokes here) its gruff power lies in its ability to attract the interest of impressionable women of a foreign persuasion.
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After much trailing, the Orange gets its coat
Monks in medieval times used to keep a skull sitting on their desk so they’d have a daily reminder of their own mortality. The Orange Order don’t have any official equivalent, as far as I know, which is a pity.
Some thoughts about signing of the Ulster Covenant
Last weekend QPR manager Mark Hughes was going a bit ballistic about a goal he says his team scored but the ref ruled they hadn’t.
Blues on the verge of title
The past seven days encompassed Linfield kicking off their Setanta Cup campaign with a draw against Derry City and going on to extend their lead at the top of the Carling Premiership five days later.
Unionists running out of time on language
Last time I was in Glengormley’s St Enda’s GAC, Seán Fox was on the committee and we were discussing setting up an Irish class for members. That was in 1983. Seán, a solid patriot, was murdered in his home by loyalists in 1993, just months before the ceasefires.
Golden expectations that came to nought
THERE was a time when Squinter was in Donegal four or five times a year, but history and happenstance have conspired to ensure that he hasn’t set foot in the real northern Ireland for three years now. No better reason to visit the county than to spot golden eagles soaring high over Sliabh Sneachta, and so it was that a merry band of Belfast outdoorsmen made their way to the great north-west on Friday intending to spend a few days by the mountains and lakes in search of the elusive raptor. We should have taken the dead otter on the Glenshane
