What the Twelfth means to me….

Over on Slugger there is an open invitation to share thoughts on the Twelfth and what it means to you.

I live in a part of Belfast through which the main parade passes twice, on the way out and then back again. Ours is a cul-de-sac off the main route which means we are hemmed in during the parade with  no access or egress. The area is mixed and no community can claim it as ‘theirs’. Our neighbours are friendly and kind.

The Twelfth normally means an enforced holiday for our family. We get out and stay away until the mess has been cleared up and the streets have been handed back to those for whom they are home. We have stayed and every time the experience has been difficult. The Orange Order does not provide porta-loos for walkers along the parade route and after spending the best part of the afternoon in the field many on the return leg desperate for a wee. Our cul-de-sac becomes irresistible to all too many of the marchers and every year a number of the walls becomes public latrines. Two years ago I counted 80 grown men and three women take advantage of our little street where children play for a spot of light relief.

That year a number of band’s knocked up every house on the street in search of a loo. This creates a difficult situation in a small community where people of several religions, nationalities and skin colours live.

So the Twelfth for me is difficult and not at all enjoyable. It’s a public holiday I can’t enjoy in my own garden and one which if I do stay at home will make me feel a lot less tolerant of marches and their aftermath. Being honest I don’t know why the parade needs to come through residential areas at all.