This is about my home town Birmingham in England.

I remember it well.

My father walked past the pub that was blown up, just 60 seconds before it happened. As it is, my dad is stiil alive at 89 and kicking.

There was a lot of hatred at the time towards the Irish, and at British Leyland if I remember, they were going to hang an irish person in retaliation.

It was the only time the hairs stood on the back of my neck whenever I heard anybody who was Irish.

Whoever did it were(was) cowards.

However, I don't think that way anymore.