'Irish Times' journalist goes to jail - although not very directly

FESTIVALS AND EVENTS:Times have changed at Belfast's Crumlin Road Gaol – you now need a ticket to get in, writes MIRIAM LORD

THE condemned woman ate a hearty meal before rolling contentedly into the execution chamber.

She left behind an old Bible, open at “The Valley of the Dry Bones.” In truth, it wasn’t half as good as the Valley of the Parched Throats, which she had thoroughly enjoyed over a long lunch in a nice restaurant.

The highlight of the visit was still ahead – the padded cell. (No rough edges, decidedly minimalist but well worn, who could resist?)

“Breakfast, dinner and tea is a bit misleading,” confessed the tour guide, pointing to a written account of the daily routine in C wing back in Victorian times. “It was always gruel, although occasionally you might get a potato.” The condemned woman was looking forward to dinner at Deanes.

It was an unusual trip. “Fancy spending some time in a Belfast prison?” read the invitation from the Belfast Visitor and Convention Centre. The prison in question was Crumlin Road Gaol, restored to all its gloomy unpleasantness and open until the end of September for guided tours.

And so, the other morning, a group of travel writers and AN Other assembled at Connolly Station in Dublin, there to be met by their terrifically generous hosts and force-fed for the day while taking in landmarks from the Troubles via the birthplace of Van Morrison.

Travel writers have a great time. It’s not fair. At dinnertime, one of them fell asleep into his soup and nobody batted an eyelid. “He’s straight off a plane from Australia,” explained a colleague.

Following a late breakfast on the train, the group was whisked to their hotel to prepare for, eh, lunch. And most convivial it was too. Eventually everyone was in the right mood to embark on a guided tour of the city. But the wrong bus turned up.

This didn’t faze the travel writers in the least. They marched stoically back to the restaurant.

“It’s only two and we haven’t even gone to jail yet,” slurred the amateur from ‘The Irish Times’.

“I know. We’re usually pissed by 12.”

They’re a droll bunch. And quite sensible, in fairness.

The right bus set off from the Cathedral Quarter on a tour of all those places in Belfast we Southerners may never have visited but know all too well from bad news over the decades. Belfast loves its quarters so much that it has at least six of them.

“I’m gonna try and finish ye on the Crumlin Road,” announced the driver, and one of the female travel writers emitted a nervous shriek.

In the Titanic Quarter, we stopped to see the dry dock where the ill-fated liner was built. It was huge. The travel writers shrugged. A minnow, apparently, compared to the floating leisure resorts of today.

The civic landmarks were fine, in a boring sort of way. What makes the Belfast tour is the drive around republican and loyalist strongholds. The Falls, the Shankill, Divis Flats, the peace-line, the Union Jacks and the Tricolours. Places many people from the Republic would never have dreamt of entering before the peace process, and would still be very reluctant to visit now.

You are encouraged to get out and have your photo taken beside the murals. Look, there’s where the explosion happened at Frizzel’s chip shop. It’s a credit union now.

The busdriver delivered his patter in a numbing monotone, giving a very basic potted history of the Troubles, sticking to a non-controversial script. The former IRA prisoner-turned- journalist at the back of the coach holds his tongue.

“Times have changed – you need a ticket to get in,” says a big sign outside the prison. Across the road from it is the Crumlin Road Courthouse – the two buildings are connected by an underground tunnel.

We queue to get into jail as attempts are made to spring the guide from inside. Someone quietly whistles the theme tune from ‘Porridge’.

Among the party is Gerry O’Hare, who is now managing editor of the magazine ‘Travel Extra’, and who was once a republican inmate in Crumlin Road between 1971 and 1973. When the group entered the grim penitentiary, he fell silent. We joked about getting him a T-shirt: “Been there, done that, kept the kneecaps.”

Through the governor’s corridor we went, to the circular area from which the various wings radiate. “Isn’t the ironwork beautiful. This is really lovely, so light and airy. It would make a lovely hotel,” cooed one of the travel writers, who also dabbles in interiors.

O’Hare was very quiet.

We went down into the tunnel which runs under the main road – “even Pentonville doesn’t have one.” O’Hare was asked how he felt. “Strange. Strange.”

Into C wing, where Gerry, once celebrated in the business as a travel writer barred from mainland Britain and the US, was once housed. The cells were tiny, basic and cold. People shivered.

But the condemned cell was ever worse – eerily atmospheric. Since 1854, there have been 17 executions, the last two in 1961.

It was twice the size of the others, and had two doors. One, on to the corridor, the other concealed behind a well- anchored and heavy bookcase. When a prisoner’s fate was sealed, the bookcase would be pushed back by warders at the last minute to reveal the second door. Behind it, the execution chamber and gallows.

It was almost a relief to get to the squalor of the B wing basement – “beautiful corbels” according to our well-travelled interiors expert. The padded cell was thrown open and we bounced inside. It’s hasn’t been touched since the place closed in 1996. Like the gallows chamber, it was creepily thrilling, but it might not be everyone’s idea of good-taste tourism.

Liberation came in time for the evening drinks reception and a big dinner afterwards.

Crumlin Road Gaol tours run Thursday-Sunday until September 27th. Book at the Belfast Welcome Centre at 048-90246609. www.gotobelfast.com