. . . not least because it was held on July 13th and circus performers and rock’n’roll replaced the banging of drums and shuttered shops in Belfast city centre

IT WAS a Twelfth of July with a difference in Belfast this year. For a start, the Orange Order parades were held on Monday, July 13th. And for once, the marches were not the only show in town. This year, after the parades have passed through the city centre, Belfast reverberates to the sound and colour of street entertainers from all over the world, from the Von Trolley Quartet (a posse of Australian “musi-comedians”) to the Gaiety Engine, a bizarre tribute to the Victorian music-hall era. And, for the first time in a generation, most of the major shops have opened their doors.

The lively atmosphere is part of a new joint initiative by Belfast Chamber of Trade and Commerce and Orangefest, the rebranded, family-friendly face of the Orange Order in the city. It certainly makes quite a change from the usual deserted, litter-strewn streets and prevailing sense of unease that has characterised the aftermath of the Twelfth in previous years.

It’s the first time that the Battle of the Boyne anniversary has been celebrated by a highly camp Freddie Mercury tribute act, complete with drawn-on black moustache, bare midriff and eye-wateringly tight jeans. On Belfast’s Royal Avenue, Mario, Queen of the Circus, has everyone in stitches with a performance involving juggling, unicycling and a tense duel using unzipped bananas. “I know what you are thinking,” Mario tells the ecstatic crowd. “Is he single? Ladies, yes. Gentlemen – why not?”

Graham McFarlane, who is in the audience with his daughter Amy and grandson Luke, aged eight, is impressed with the transformed Twelfth: “Normally I avoid the place like the plague on this day. But this is great; there’s a real carnivalesque feeling. And Mario himself is a star – kitsch, energetic, a bit dangerous.”

“It’s great to have a real community atmosphere rather than all the usual worry around the Twelfth,” agrees Amy McFarlane. Adele McMurray watched the Orange Order procession in the city centre and stayed to see the street theatre. “This is much better this year, with all the shops open and loads of people in town,” she says, as her daughter Sophie (two) gazes warily at Mario’s madcap antics from the safety of her buggy.

Mario is convinced that change is afoot in Belfast: “I can see it in the faces of the people watching me. There is more animation there than there used to be.”

Not everyone is convinced by the new arrangements. “It feels a bit like window-dressing to me,” says Shauna, who didn’t want to give her surname. “The circus stuff is fun, but it doesn’t change the fact that this is effectively an enforced holiday. We’re in the city centre because there is nothing else to do, not because we really want to be here.”

The process may be gradual, but Belfast is no longer the ghost town it once was during the Twelfth of July period. Trans, a contemporary music and arts festival, is running events throughout July, while this year, for the first time, the tellingly-named Curfew mini rock festival took place over the holiday weekend.

Shouting over the thumping basslines at the Black Box arts venue in the Cathedral Quarter on Saturday night, organiser Pete Jez says: “We started this seven years ago as an alternative for people who didn’t want to march, jet off, or lock their doors and watch endless re-runs on TV. The idea was that we would throw a final knees-up before a period of enforced hibernation for many musicians, punters and promoters. But this is the first time we’ve actually had it on the Twelfth weekend. Previously there was nowhere that would open for us to use as a venue.”

Watching Mario crowd-surfing above hundreds of uplifted hands and smiling faces, all singing Queen’s irresistible anthem We Are the Champions, it really is a Twelfth of July unlike all others. And not just because it is held on the 13th.