AS I reflect on my recent milestone birthday, reaching the venerable age of three score and ten, I find myself both savouring and enduring the richness of this moment.

As I enter the autumn of my life, I am filled with memories of a journey that began in modest circumstances but has traversed through a world that has changed in ways I could never have imagined.

My early years were spent in Cupar Street, off the Falls Road, growing up in the shadow of Clonard monastery and blessed with a great  Cupar street and Bombay street gang of friends who taught me camaraderie.

A place and time where life was simple, yet full of profound experiences. I grew up in a world where television and radio were still new, bringing the outside world into our homes and expanding our horizons. Rock and roll music burst onto the scene, infusing our lives with energy and rebellion, while the simple joys of watching Bill and Ben on TV became part of the fabric of childhood.

These were the days of wonder, as Van the man would say, where the future seemed bright and full of possibility.

As the years passed, I watched the world around me transform at a staggering pace. From those early days with my feet on the ground, I witnessed humanity reach for the stars and accomplish the impossible by walking on the moon. Technology advanced beyond anything I could have dreamed, connecting us in ways that have reshaped our lives. The world that was once vast and mysterious has become smaller, more accessible, yet still full of endless surprises.

Looking back, life was not without its hardships. Growing up in Belfast during the Troubles, I experienced first hand the violence and fear that gripped our community. The pogroms left deep scars, and survival often felt like a daily struggle. But even in those dark times, there was hope.

This was my experience working with an amazing team called the Twinbrook Tenants and Community Association with the likes of my good friend Damien Gibney ( RIP) his partner May who was like a sister to me. Along with Feilim Ó hAdhmaill, Dave Simpson and many, many more good and true people who always had the wellbeing of others in mind.

The eventual shift from conflict to a new program of peace and reconciliation brought a sense of healing and renewal that I am grateful to have witnessed. Our peace process, fragile as it sometimes seems, has allowed a new generation to grow up in a world where there is hope for lasting peace.

One of the most significant turning points in my life came when I found Alcoholics Anonymous. For years, I grappled with the burden of alcoholism, a battle that left me feeling lost and isolated. But through AA, I found a community of understanding, a place where I could begin to heal. The principles of AA taught me to take life one day at a time, to make amends where I had caused harm, and to find strength in the shared experiences of others.

If any reader or friend is suffering from this disease (which is the disease that tells you that you are not suffering), please don’t hesitate but get to a meeting ASAP.

Coupled with AA, the other great gift that this journey has given me is the discovery of gratitude, born through the practice of mindfulness. Mindfulness has taught me to live fully in the present, to cherish each moment for what it is, and to find peace even amid life’s inevitable challenges. Through mindfulness, I have come to appreciate the simple, beautiful moments that make life worth living.

As I stand on the threshold of this autumnal phase of life, I look back with gratitude for all that has been, and I look forward with hope for whatever lies ahead. The journey has been long and, at times, difficult, but it has also been rich and rewarding. The joys and the sorrows, the triumphs and the trials, I am deeply thankful.