Yesterday I went into Belfast. Christmas Shoplifting. Ooops that was a slip of the tongue. Christmas SHOPPING.

November and December are strange times for us. My wife says after every Christmas that next year she will not “do all this again”. But she does and she always will.

December…Our second son will celebrate his 40th birthday on the same day our first grandchild will celebrate his birthday. Later in the month, two more grandchildren have birthdays. And we also have a special day to mark the day a granddaughter was born and died.

A roller coaster of emotion. Beginning with our wedding anniversary on 1st December.

So one of the grandchildren plays Under 10 hurling. And he is pretty darn good at it. Along with his parents, he is a season ticket holder with Armagh GAA and he has a few county shirts. And I went off to O’Neill’s at the Kennedy Centre to buy Kilkenny and Clare.

Tick the boxes…Birthday. Christmas. Strictly speaking Clare wont be officially purchased until early December when discount vouchers become effective.

Kennedy Centre is a shopping mall in West Belfast. I always think of it as a “new place” but it must be there thirty years. I still sometimes refer to it as the Lucozade Factory. I guess the vast majority of people in and around Falls Road have no idea that in its previous incarnation in the 1950s, 1960s, 1970s, the energy drink was produced here.

Nice new shops within. Nice quality on the site. And new this year…Tim Hortons.

Across the road is the Felons, probably the most exclusive club in Belfast. Membership is confined to people who have been in prison. You might think that this is a strange exclusivity. But the offences (if you so consider them) are for republican activity. Obviously I am not a member but I have been to the restaurant (open to the public) a few times and its really good.

The flags of Ireland, Palestine and Basque Country fly over the Felons.

Next to the Kennedy Centre is the Milltown Cemetery.

Notoriously run down, a lot of effort has been put in to gentrify it. The shame remains the ground of paupers field and even more so the field for the unbaptised babies. Many parents and siblings have put up markers to bring the children back to visible memory.

Of course many family graves are unmarked. But the modern graves have expensive headstones and very elaborate. Only a few are over the top and tacky. Of course Milltown is depressing. Passing a grave on any pathway and there is a reminder of the Troubles, “killed on active service”, “murdered by Crown Forces” and “martyred for his faith”. Those who died of old age and natural causes …some names are familiar. I had not thought of a young lad who died of leukaemia in sixty years until yesterday. And his parents are now in the same grave. That is the trouble with death…parents can outlive children. Husband and wife can experience widowhood for years and decades and that seems a horrible form of loneliness.

I crossed the road to Falls Park, the main gate. The Jungle was my favourite place. A pathway along the stream near the Bus Depot. We could play Robin Hood and Sherwood Forest in there in the early 1960s. The Bowling Green and a new (to me) pavilion is there but the Tennis Courts are gone. So are the Flower Beds.

Plaques on benches commemorate people who sat on them previously. One at least has a very inappropriate sentiment. Tacky.

There is actually a play area. The odd thing about Falls Park in the 1960s was that there were no swings and roundabouts, which most people would think is basic.

Our neighbour and my fathers friend, Pat Fitzpatrick was a park ranger. He moved at glacial speed. I had only intended to walk as far as where the Cooler, an open air swimming pool had been but took a wrong turn and while impressed by all the new football and GAA pitches. Strangely I was going uphill and further away from Falls Road.

A lot of people were walking dogs. One looked like a professional dog walker. He had five of different breeds. It struck me that in 2025, dogs are actually cared for in West Belfast. Those that did own dogs in the 1970s were often indifferent to pedigree and licences or vets. Dogs roamed in packs of seven, eight, nine…and those that actually had names were called “Rebel”. Dog crap was a hazard for pedestrians.

Of course the wild dogs were good sentries. They barked at the British Army and occasionally attacked them. And on occasions the British Army poisoned dogs. As we know, even liberal unionists and letsgetalongerists never concern themselves about justice for murdered Catholics…but if they knew about the dogs, they might develop a conscience.

Of course not all dogs were mongrels and not all mongrels were feral. Pluto was Uncle Jackie’s dog. Dubbed “Leather Arse” by my granny, he could travel alone on a bus and get off at Brighton Street and Waterford Street. And my wife’s family had a little red dog called Bruno. He would tackle anyone…Paratrooper, Green Howard and Glorious Gloucester, they were all the same to Bruno.

Another group of park benches with dedications to deceased dog walkers. So many deceased dog walkers that I start thinking walking dogs is a very dangerous activity.

I had not realised that Falls Park had actually been expanded.

A gate with a turnstile leads into an expanded City Cemetery.

The new graves are seemingly Catholic. Back in the 1960s, Milltown was the Catholic cemetery and the corporation owned City was de facto Protestant.

Belfast in Victorian times was smaller and both Milltown and City were on the western edge of the City. The 20th century saw the western suburbs became Catholic. During the Troubles, Protestants felt alienated in the City Cemetery.

An afternoon spent buying pricey GAA shirts for children, modern headstones in a graveyard, owning designer dogs like mountain dogs, yorkies, beagles and labradors…not to mention expensive houses, nail bars, dog groomers, solicitors, estate agents, Turkish barbers, personal trainers convinces me that Falls Road can be pretty middle class.

Of course, a lot of people still struggle.

But most people do not know about slums and outside toilets.

Hmmm…..I have a labrador. Am I middle class?