Under the monster's watchful gaze, we strolled onto the village green to take photos of the historical statue there, and shortly became aware that we were being surrounded by an armed patrol of soldiers of the British Army. At the same time a full class of primary school children, (perhaps the whole school) appeared on the Green, finished with their lessons for the day. Seeing us with the camera, they shouted, "don't photograph him, (the statue); photograph him! (one of the soldiers). My friend being new to this Country, was nervous. There was something about photographing a soldier holding a gun with live ammunition, and looking straight at you, with a ruthless soldier's expression; something that would make anyone nervous. I told him to take the picture, it was OK, he was just on patrol, doing routine work; soldiers were used to tourists with cameras.

The picture was taken as shown. 

Leaving the village, we strolled in the warm afternoon sun without mishap down the lane to the large Catholic Church, examining with some fascination the burial ground and its extensive family graves. A visit to the Border was still to be made, and this posed another real or imagined hazard to life and limb. A large sign quite simply said, "BRITS KEEP OUT!" We are both Brits., could this sign have applied to us? Had not the peace process been in existence for nearly seven years? The car was presently safe and secure in the village parking area. We put these thoughts to one side, turned the car into the lane which ran right underneath the steel monster of authority and headed towards Borderland. But the Border was of supernatural origin and although we knew quite well once we had reached the main roads of the Republic, we could find no trace of a dividing line, this Border had no physical existence. My companion said, "is this what all the fighting has been about?"