something in the (rain) water

I knew there was a reason I lived in Ballymoney. I’ve been searching for a rationale for a long time. I moved from the much larger and busier Ballymena when I was two weeks old. People don’t do that for no reason – I must just have forgotten what it was.

I was wandering around town yesterday and tripped up on camera crews every time I turned a corner. It was tres tres exciting. Well, exciting in a not-much-else-every-happens kind of a way. What had dragged the news crews up the M2 from Belfast? Well I found out when I watched the news yesterday evening and it turns out Ballymoney finally has something to crow about:

People live longer in Ballymoney than anywhere else on the island, it has been revealed.
The Co Antrim town boasts the highest life expectancy in both Northern Ireland and the Republic at just over 78 years for men and 82 for women.

Yes, according to the Ireland and Northern Ireland's Population Health Observatory (INIsPHO) we in Ballymoney last longer than the rest of youse. The fact that I have never heard of the INIsPHO doesn’t diminish the significance of their declaration. It is surely reason enough for everyone of importance to sell their Malone Road Mansions in Belfast and move into two bedroom bungalows in Ballymoney. Meanwhile I will take advantage of the crashing house prices to move the other way – I’m willing to risk it.

Why do people live longer here – well I have many theories; none of which are particularly complimentary. People in Ballymoney are well known for living the clean life – some may say the boring life. Despite plenty of pubs and people to crawl out of them, Ballymoney is right at the top of what could be described as Bible belt Northern Ireland. Teetotalism is the new black. Clean living leads to long living.

But my own personal favourite theory is that we are so laid back up here that we lose track of time. I wouldn’t say the pace of life is slower up here – no, actually I would – its much slower. And that is why we live longer. We have every intention of getting round to dying – really - we’ll get round to it eventually.

coffee turf wars

I love Ground. I admire their courage. At a time when new Espresso Bars were opening every day and Starbucks, Costa and Esquires were planning their assault on Northern Ireland the wise people in Ground decided that it was a good time to start a business selling coffee. I feel like I own them - sort of. I was there seven odd years ago when they first opened in Coleraine. I interviewed for barista positions but was told I was overqualified – how little they know – barista work is about all a theatre studies and English literature degree do qualify you for. Let’s face it, even teaching English, I haven’t had much need for my knowledge of Canadian Literature – although being able to quote Margaret Atwood and Leonard Coen in any given situation has its uses.

I have spent more hours writing short stories upstairs in Coleraine Ground than I ever spent revising for the multitude of exams I have taken since they opened. At the time I found it amusing that they had a space in their comment cards asking which branch you frequented – like there would ever be more than one Ground.

Today I am sitting in the Ballymoney Ground. A few years after Coleraine opened they added one in Ballymena (on a street where there is practically more coffee shops than paving stones,) then they moved into the old KFC building in Portrush, and then a couple of months ago this one – the best of the bunch – in Ballymoney.

I ran out of inspiration for the short story I had started a while ago and the owner came over for a chat. I asked her where the next opening would be. “Belfast” she told me, “We’re opening in Waterstones.” A coffee shop INSIDE a book shop – who could have imagined it! Original it may not be but it is surely an excellent move. Breaking the big city must be an exciting prospect and who knows where it goes from there. I suggested the states, maybe Seattle. She gave me that kind smile people give me when they think I’m trying to be funny.

And so the Ground machine continues to plough on oblivious of the Starbucks, Café Neros and Costa Coffees springing up like wild flowers in it’s way. And more power to them. Not just because they are a local group taking on the big Globals but because I reckon the money I’ve spent in there must have paid for at least one of their stores. I’m claiming this one.

the townland of the cow

I love Ballymoney. It is sort of my closest town – well, joint closest along with Coleraine and Portrush. It is as typical North Antrim as you can get. It is as different from the big towns as you can get. I had forgotten just how good it is to sit in this colourful leafy North Antrim settlement on a sunny day and consider the meaning of life. I went to school in Ballymoney, back then I hated it and took every opportunity possible to jump over the wall and drive somewhere else. Perhaps that explains my A-level results (cross blog pollination – nice!)

But I am older now, the sleepiness of the place appeals to me – I smile at the leisurely pace even the bees go about their work. When I smile the people dandering along the road beside me smile. We smile at each other. I wonder how long it will last.

Ballymoney town centre is a single street of family owned independent shops that have been there forever. The fashion shops have the same window displays they had when I was driving past them to avoid a double period of English Literature. The word fashion seems to be lost on them. You can literally count the number of chain stores on one hand; and even they tend not to be the big name ones. There are no Marks and Spencer, no WH Smith (not even an Eason’s), no McDonalds, KFC or Starbucks. It’s the kind of place that, were it even to have a chain store Burger joint, would have a Wimpy. We have all we need in our Cassell’s and our Walker’s and our Wilson McMichael’s and our McLaughlin’s and our Tweed’s and our Gault’s and our Young's Newsagent and our Ann’s hot bread shop and, of course, our Brown Jug. And I wonder how long it will last.

Ballymoney is a small town that thrives on its smalltowndom. It’s not quite somewhere everybody knows your name, and they’re always glad you came; but its near enough. I can’t imagine how big-town Ballymoney would work. It’s not likely to have a gay pride march any time soon and I’m not sure our local hood’s/neds/chavs are capable of turning to organised crime. The fact is that Ballymoney doesn’t need to be a big town; if you want a chain store Coleraine is less than 10 miles away, if you want a theme park Portrush is a short bus ride away, if you want a university education without leaving home you have UUC, if you want a stroll by the ocean you can’t get much better than Portstewart, if you want sectarian interface problems Dunloy is a few short miles away. Ballymoney is the small town that doesn’t need to grow up. Yet I wonder how long it will last.

People move there to escape bigtowndom and with every person that moves there Ballymoney gets bigger, gets one consumer closer to being able to support a Starbucks. It will happen; the single modern coffee shop in the town is constantly full (hence the fact that I am outside.) It can’t last much longer.

That, however, is exactly what I said last year, and the year before that, and the years when I was at school and thought of it as a positive thing. It hasn’t happened yet and so I’ll smile at the passers-by for a little while longer.