I walked the Bogside in 1984. I FELT and SAW and HEARD the HATRED.

A room with a wall full of B&W photos of men with their name underneath in small type and the words – in BIG type – MURDERED BY THE BRITISH ARMY.

There is nothing romantic about the history of Ulster. I’ve been shot at. Spat at. Laughed at. And – God’s Honest Truth – told to not say a single word because of my accent. Coleraine. With local friends. A wedding dress fitting.

Sunday, Bloody Sunday? Bonio is a Dublin boy. On a mission to widen the divide (?)

News then Bonio (celebrating the Dead in Live Aid!) 1985