Tims Times

I began my trek towards fame and fortune in the merchant navy as a cadet with Esso in their now defunct VLCC fleet. I joined my first ship at Fawley, near Southampton on my third excursion from the cradle of my native home, having previously only been to England summer working with thousands of Irish on the building sites and likewise to Cape Cod mowing lawns for wealthy Americans. The lure of filthy lucre and high adventure were too much to resist, so I dived feet first into the life at sea.
So there I was, first trip cadet, green as cabbage and green as Irish as I was to find out quickly. Having only worked with other Irish in my adventures as a navvy in the building sites of England I had had no real contact with natives of the British Island. This was my rude awakening of how we are divided by a common language and history. It wasn’t long before I had my first run in with the Chief Engineer a big Rangers fan, he greeted me with “so you a Catholic then?” having gone to the pub for Mass for many moons I couldn’t really claim my rights as a practicing Catholic but it made no difference to a big Rangers fan, holy water had once been scattered over my forehead by a papist priest of Rome so that was it I was marked, a left footer, a taig, Catholic, a Tim. This was a source of great amusement to the Loyal Orange Lodge that I found myself working alongside, the fact that my name was Tim and I was Irish and a Catholic. They had to hold themselves for laughter, it was all very bemusing for me though, I hadn’t a clue why I was so funny for them. I just worked away and kept my head low like a Larne Catholic. Fortunately there were a few more real people on board also, the second mate was from Dublin, and the third engineer was from Cork, they had also gotten the anti-Irish abuse from the Rangers gang.
In the caste system of a ship the cadet is the untouchable, a dogsbody, gofor and messenger boy all rolled into one, while at the same time supposed to be training to be a deck officer. 3 or 4 weeks into the first voyage the Rangers crowd eased off on their slagging when I discovered a retaliatory weapon, I became a raving Celtic fan and hummed the tune to the fields of Athenry constantly in their presence and after about 6 weeks I started to feel like I could maybe make something of a career of the ship lark.
Back then in the late 80’s there was no internet or mobile phones that you could carry in one hand so contact with home was scarce, news was by the BBC World service and the occasional fax from the office. It was fairly monotonous at times, there was however a large quantity of lager onboard which was close to sell by date so it had to get used up quickly or so I was told, so we had a few good sessions in the bar.
One evening the second engineer, an English guy in his early 40’s called me over in the bar and offered me a beer, I accepted of course it being the friendly thing to do and a session was hatched there and then, we were soon joined by more and the jaws got looser and tongues started wagging, this guy Dave says to me, “you’re Irish and you seem like a nice chap, but I don’t understand why Britain doesn’t invade Ireland completely” I was fairly gobsmacked by this statement so I asked him to explain, “do go on Dave” I said. He continued, “everyday in the news your Irish Army shoots a British soldier or blows up a bridge, and we do nothing about it, I think we should go over the border and sort it out for once and for all” there were a few nods of approval from the Rangers corner and total silence from the other Irish, I was thrust into my first Anglo-Irish debate so I says to Dave and the assembled “Cool yer jets there now Dave, I think you have the wrong end of the stick there, the Irish Army you are referring to wouldn’t be the Irish Republican Army by any chance?” and he replies “What’s the fawking difference?” so again I was taken aback by this statement, middle class England thinks that the IRA is the same as the Irish Defence Force. I then gave a brief but accurate lecture on the founding of the state of Ireland and the original Anglo-Irish treaty, the partition of the Island of Ireland and the organisation of the IRA and the Irish states right to defend itself by organising a military body. There was a silence in the bar and quizzical faces on Dave and the Rangers gang which slowly changed into the penny finally drops look and utterances like “Ah, so you mean to tell me that they are two different organisations using the same name?” I buried my face into my hands and looked up and said no, “basically the IRA want you lot out of Ireland and the Irish army wants to go to the Leb and make a few bob because the pay is shite, OK make more sense?”
I decided to shut up quickly guessing that the old adage of “don’t argue with stupid people, especially with drink taken” was applicable. Somebody called for more beer and the topic changed to cars, my 15 minutes was over for that night.