Hint of The Troubles I suppose some people would say that being brought up and living through "The Troubles" was bound to profoundly impact on any person.
For many that is true, but for me personally, although havoc and chaos surrounded me, I guess doing normal things just took up most of my time.
By the time the civil right's marches had started around 1969, I had turned 11 years of age and my days were taken up with the things that normal kids that age do.
Apart from the normal school activity, like measuring rain fall in those silly test-tubes, studying the shape of leaves on a nature trail and building a sun-dial that would never be used again, we also got to do what I would call fun stuff.
That included a small branch of a tree, some fishing line, a hook and worms and a trip to the Layde river that runs through the small town of Ballycastle.
Then we had the tree swing across the river and many a plunge was taken into that, some intended but most not.
Either way, a fire quickly constructed from the surrounding debris quickly dried us out and also proved to be a source of entertainment.
We even managed to make a boat, well something that served as a boat, from branches twine, barrels and tyres.
Somehow it worked and managed to hold about ten of us without any major mishaps, except for the odd boy who got tipped over for one reason or another.
I can recall making a few trips over the edge myself but then I guess all of us, who dared board the hand built raft, also made the plunge into the cold dark river.
I do remember going home and my parents and Grandmother being glued to the black and white television watching the news.
On reflection they seemed troubled about what was happening, but we were sent elsewhere, most likely their way of offering us some protection from the real world.
Our next favourite hobby, and this is really going to upset any golfers reading this, was to take a trip to the Ballycastle beach.
A beautiful links golf course ran along the side of the beach, peppered by tall grass, sand dunes and the odd water trap.
We used to lie in wait for any drive or iron shot that missed the fairway and when that happened, we all started crawling towards the ball through the tall grass.
If the ball was found before the annoyed golfer arrived, it was pocketed and eventually sold back to someone at the club house.
Needless to say the annoyed golfer only became even more annoyed as he declared his lost ball penalty and cursed the heavens.
Being a golfer myself these days, I now fully understand how high his frustration may have been.
One rather funny incident comes to mind, as, on one of our usual money-making trips to the golf course, we came across a courting couple, who for whatever reason had decided to set up their love nest at the bottom of one of the rolling hills on the actual golf course itself.
I would have been aged 10 or 11 at the time, so the sight of a couple kissing, and especially in public, was quite a novelty.
For us, it was a novelty and an opportunity not to be missed.
With quite an amount of guile for ones so young we made our way to the top of that hill and peered down at them, some out of curiosity and others out of some bewilderment.
Although they were still clothed, there was quite a bit of fumbling going on and I recall that caused quite a bit of concealed sniggering and laughing.
One of our gang managed to convince us that the girl would definitely be pregnant by now and ignorance caused us all to agree.
Anyway, boredom soon set in as they continued and somehow it was decided that this could be an opportunity for some fun.
The balls we had gathered up, soon became used for something else.
Slowly the first ball was set free tumbling down the hill and rolled in between the couple.
They didn't seem to notice that, so another was sent towards the target.
A couple of balls missed the target but eventually one of the balls got their attention.
The man jumped up, rubbing the side of his head and shouted something that ended in "off.
" He looked all around and his girlfriend then stood up and watched her boyfriend slowly climb the hill.
As she adjusted her clothing, his rather long legs clambered up the hill and we retreated into the long grass, scattering in many directions.
Just as he reached the very top of the hill, a golf ball nearly took the top of his head off.
He fell backwards down the hill and we did hear, but not see his girlfriend shriek.
As we lay in hiding trying not to laugh, for fear of giving away our places of concealment, three golfers arrived on the fairway, the man and his girlfriend arrived at the top of the hill and a huge shouting match shouted.
It lasted for what seemed ages and at one stage fists were seen but not used and then the couple walked off, cursing and swearing towards the beach, and the golfers proceeded on with their game, also cursing and swearing.
We waited until they had passed and then collected up the balls and made our way back to the club house to use our sale's techniques.
We learned a lot that day.
So although the battle lines were being created across Northern Ireland, fishing, golfing and courting continued on as normal in my small secluded world.
There was a sense though that things were changing.
Even within a small town of only 3,000 people attitudes were not only forming, but hardening.
I would not have known back then but in my small town, which was 90% catholic, the council was formed only of protestant people.
To me at my young age that mattered not a jot, but to some it mattered a great deal.
I recall conversations about small local political issues that had suddenly become very important ones.
Band parades was one of those issues, and where in my younger days we watched these as a great spectacle, suddenly we were told to stay indoors, in case there was trouble.
There was just a sense of foreboding that things were about to change, and change for the worse.
Read more in Part Three of this article.