Talking to Terrorists: A Personal Journey from the IRA to Al Qaeda

What’s an IRA man doing reading Tolstoy and Hardy?’ I asked. He looked me straight in the eye with an expression that, like his reply, I will never forget: ‘Because an IRA man is normal just like anyone else.

The twenty-two-year-old McGuinness was charming, articulate and impressive, and seemed terribly young. Even then his eyes, into which I was to look on and off over the next thirty years, had the capacity to harden at a moment’s notice, and seemed capable of taking you out at ten paces. He talked passionately about the ‘armed struggle’ and why he was engaged in it. To my surprise, at the end of our conversation he said he’d much rather be washing the car and mowing the lawn on Sundays than doing what he was doing. I believed him, although I thought that I shouldn’t. I never imagined that one day one of Britain’s most wanted ‘terrorists’ would become Northern Ireland’s Deputy First Minister.h
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Margo and Bernadette both served in the chip shop, and regarded the street battles as entertainment. ‘We used to sit upstairs and watch,’ Margo remembers. ‘The riots were fierce, but you didn’t feel in any danger. It was good fun.’

I understand potatoes. I understand fish

I had often wondered how I would react in such a situation, and in a strange kind of way it was almost a relief that at last it had happened. I found, to my surprise, that although I was shaken, I didn’t panic. In fact I felt strangely calm and clear-headed. I accepted that there was nothing that I could do except keep my fingers crossed and my head down, and lie there until the shooting stopped.