“Bomb disposal” said the sign across the back of the Land Rover. In white letters against a red background, the sign contrasted with the green camouflage colours of the Land Rover. It was a vintage vehicle with civilian number plates and was presumably used by a re-enactment group. The canvas roof and simplicity of the Land Rover seemed a world apart from modern bomb disposal vehicles with their armour and advanced electronic and computer technology. It would be hard to imagine a contemporary bomb disposal officer contemplating going to remove …

Seventy-five years ago tomorrow, my friend Archie set foot on a beach in northern France. He was 21 years old at the time. He was from Newtownards in Co Down, the town where I knew him in my days as a curate. Archie had volunteered to join the Royal Air Force three years previously, in 1941, when he was 18.?There was no conscription in Northern Ireland, Archie chose to join up. Archie trained as a radio operator, imagining that this would lead him to becoming the member of a bomber …

The banner announced a bread and cheese lunch for work in Africa. I wondered about the work.

I remember my first visit to Rwanda, ten years ago. Our small group of Europeans was being feted in the district as the bringers of all good things.  At every village there was something to be opened or dedicated and there were speeches and food.  Africans would stand back until the white people had been served; they would never be at the table first, never be the first in the queue.

We had …