Return to the past would border on the unacceptable

FREEDOM OF movement is one of the many things we take for granted on this little island of ours, but all that could be about to change if a worst case scenario Brexit comes to pass. It’s quite an easy task to drive to any destination in Ireland, and return home again in the same day if necessary, and I’ve done it myself on more occasions than I care to remember.

It’s extremely tiring, that’s for sure, but the key point is that it’s do-able, and that’s a godsend for anyone with tight deadlines and a need to get back from matches as quickly as possible.

The fixtures schedule in any given year dictates the number of times I have to cross the border, with a trip to Owenbeg just outside Dungiven in Co. Derry in store, for example, for the last round of the Allianz Football League.

There was a stage, too, when our hurlers regularly travelled north for games against either the Oak Leaf county, Antrim or Down, but those days aren’t destined to return any time soon given the general decline of the sport in Ulster.

And it was with great glee that I noted the achievement of Finn Harps in qualifying for the Premier Division of the SSE Airtricity League late last year, not out of any fondness for the Ballybofey men, but purely because it guaranteed I will avoid one or two trips up there in 2019.

Strictly speaking, that journey could be taken without a border crossing, but the most direct route is to drive up through the county of Tyrone rather that heading for Sligo before venturing up the north-west coast.

Despite all the stories passed down from previous generations, I don’t believe that anyone around these parts aged 30 or younger can truly appreciate what it was like to travel from south to north, or vice versa, at the height of the Troubles.

I was reminded of that on Sunday when I took an early-morning detour en route to the footballers’ first league game in Carrick-on-Shannon.

I have an extremely large collection of G.A.A. programmes and books, with a special interest in club histories.

And when I heard that Devenish St. Mary’s in Fermanagh had launched a publication before Christmas, it was worth leaving home a couple of hours earlier than planned in order to secure a copy.

Past experience has taught me that the best way to guarantee getting a book of that nature is to go in person to the town or village, rather than relying on a club official to send one in the post. That doesn’t always go according to plan.

Therefore, my destination was the tiny village of Garrison in Co. Fermanagh, on the shores of Lough Melvin, a picturesque area just a stone’s throw from the border with Leitrim.

Firstly, I passed seamlessly from Belturbet in Co. Cavan to Derrylin in Co. Fermanagh, with the only indication that the border had been crossed being the signage and the better condition of the roads.

That’s the way it has been for such a long time now, and I sincerely hope it lasts because a return to the days of old would be the stuff of nightmares.

I was Secretary of the D.I.T. Gaelic football club during my college days in the late 1980s and early 1990s, and we went through a phase when practically every league fixture we had against one of the Belfast teams was played in a halfway venue called Derryleckagh in the hills on the far side of Newry, on the road to Ballyholland.

It was a bleak spot, with basic facilities that were under the control of the local council. And it was always impossible to estimate our time of arrival, because that depended on the progress or otherwise of our bus through the border crossing at Killeen.

The younger soldiers took particular pleasure in coming on board with their weapons in full view, and all it took was one smart comment or even dirty look from a footballer to prolong our stay.

That truly was a horrible place, with the intimidation heightened by the presence of several highly-fortified watchtowers in the hills overlooking the main road. Who really knows what March 29 will bring? But for the sake of our young people, I hope they are spared the harsh reality of a hard border as - having lived through it once already - let me tell you it really doesn’t bear thinking about.