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| Abba driving school |
Hard to believe that, over 30 years ago, I was an
Approved Driving Instructor on the streets of Belfast. I used to instruct in one of these red Mini's and, later, an Austin Metro. Back then
Abba Driving School was owned by the Christian community we were part of, but was subsequently sold and is now thriving under
new ownership. It hardly needs to be said that anything I say in this post is totally unrelated to the present ownership.
Back then
Abba was a primary means of support to the community and financial necessity was my main reason for getting involved. There were about half a dozen of us and we worked hard. The first task every day was to valet the cars inside and out. Lessons started at 8 a.m. and often we would work through the evening cramming in as many as reasonably possible.
The
Abba office was in University Street, an area agnostic to the religious divide. The era was after the worst of the troubles but there were still bombs going off here and there - often we would hear about them indirectly from our relatives in the UK before we heard locally, such was the news machine. Police and Army checkpoints were common place.
We serviced both the Catholic and Protestant communities. On one occasion, on being asked by a student if I was Catholic or Protestant I replied that I was neither. But you must be one or the other! The problem was solved when it became evident that I was a Brit. Apparently this was an acceptable third category!
On another occasion I was teaching a young police officer. He learnt privately so was in plain clothes. At
Abba we often used the narrow and relatively quiet but staunchly loyalist streets of
the village and, when I guided him this way, he became visibly alarmed and asked if we could go somewhere else for fear of being recognised.
Although we
Abba drivers generally kept to relatively harmless test routes, occasionally I would explore further afield if I felt my student was up to it. One time I entered a republican housing estate somewhere near the
Falls Road. I noticed bystanders looking oddly at my progress and I could feel the hairs on my neck standing on end. There was palpable tension in Belfast back then.
And then there were, and doubtless still are, the loyalist
Orange men and their lodges, the
12th of July,
King Billy and all that. Huge bonfires dangerously close to residences. Union jacks flying, curbs painted red white and blue, huge wall murals... So strange and provocative to my mind.
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| King Billy wall murals |
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| Orange parades |
Two nations dwelling in the same land. One soft, warm, friendly, laid-back, untidy but fiercely defendant of their kind. The other more teutonic, precise, formal but also fiercely principled and defendant. Of course the vast majority just want to live peaceably and, if the neighbours have different backgrounds, who cares? And so I, of more teutonic stock (I can hardly help it) have become accepted and trusted for who I am here where I am living in the Republic, never mind the fact that I do not attend the local Catholic church. I even have an Irish daughter!
I had the privilege of teaching a particular woman student. She was an artist by profession and wore interesting earrings, always a different pair. I remember miniature frying pans dangling, complete with fried egg! The instructor has a side-on view so unusual earrings stand out. I cannot remember her name and would not mention it here anyway, but she just could not get the hang of reversing. I tried everything in the book - she would habitually turn the wheel the wrong way...
Then there was Cynthia - a good driver so very few lessons but talkative and a joy to teach - once she pointed out some magpies and started quoting "
One for sorrow, Two for joy..." - strange the things that stick in one's memory.
Another, first time, highly educated student, this time a man should you think I am male chauvinist: we were in the Boucher Road (back then it was a disused dead-end road) and he sat in the driving seat for his very first time. Sweat poured from his brow as he crawled forward in first gear heaving the steering wheel first full left, then right, sometimes mounting the curb. A typical case of positive feedback, instability and all that. I felt so embarrassed for him.
Turning right in traffic is a good deal more difficult than turning left. I had decided that a certain student was not yet up to turning right so I had to plan a route that would get us back to the office in time for the next lesson and without turning right.
Long hours took their toll. I regret to admit that on one occasion I fell asleep. I told all my students that they should continue straight ahead unless given instruction otherwise. Of course she (I think it was a she) was perhaps too busy to notice my slumber so just kept motoring on. When I woke, with that strange feeling of "what am I doing?", I quickly realised my predicament, glanced at my watch and saw we had minimal time before the next lesson, and then had to work out where exactly we were and how to get back!
The stuff we ate... You must understand that, although we were earning, the proceeds all went to the community and our standard of living was similarly dictated. We lived together in rented accommodation of questionable quality and were thankful for small mercies. The community itself ran a delicatessan shop and we sometimes got the cast-offs. Blue cheese was on the menu one week. I had a generous slab of well matured blue cheese for lunch one day, and the next, and the next. One of my more frequent students at the time noticed the strong and repeated aroma on my breath - and asked, did I always have cheese for lunch?
Or the glut of eggs. Seventy eggs broken into a steel tray and baked in the oven - for dinner tonight, same again for the next few nights. Curiously blackened on the underside by the rusting baking tray (a good source of iron!).
The husband of one of the instructors, Bert, had a regular job so had better access to funds (the rest of us had no more than that to buy necessities like toothpaste). He would occasionally lay a Mars bar on each of our driving seats before the evening lessons began. It was like finding gold bullion for the joy it brought. Bert, your generosity and love will not be forgotten.
I enjoyed my time with
Abba. The job was fun. The people were fun. And I learned a lot. But more about exactly what I learnt whilst in or around Belfast in a future post.
