There was a brief burst of sunshine, then the clouds turned murky and ominous and began to sluice rain, and for some in Newry it seemed even the heavens were commenting on Brexit.
“Where are we at? It’s like up there,” said Peter Armstrong Woodruff, 70, glancing at the opaque greyness overhead. “You can’t see much. It’s a monstrous riddle.”
The retired civil servant feared that clarity, when it came, would be painful. “I think we will go on to regret leaving the European Union.”
Wednesday was supposedly a good Brexit day for Northern Ireland. The region woke up to news that supermarkets would be permitted to keep supplying Northern Ireland shops without the special Brexit checks that will kick in, deal or no deal, on 1 January.
The concession by the EU to grant Sainsbury’s, Marks & Spencer, and other trusted traders in the food sector, a grace period followed the government’s decision on Tuesday to drop controversial threats to ditch the Northern Ireland protocol and break international law.
So while everyone else fretted about the fate of an overarching deal, Northern Ireland could in theory breathe slightly easier.
Except it didn’t feel that way to residents of Newry, a market town on the border with the Republic of Ireland. There was weariness, confusion and bafflement about the latest developments.
In the Commons Michael Gove, the Cabinet Office minister, was spelling out details of the Northern Ireland compromise, and Boris Johnson was hardening his tone before meeting the European commission president, Ursula von der Leyen. Was this good or bad news? Did anyone understand the news?
“It’s like the virus. Will it ever go away?” sighed Ann Keenan, a retired nursing home worker. Still, she welcomed the agreement to keep food imports flowing uninterrupted. “It’s a good day for us, at least for the shopping.” In a burst of festive spirit or irony – with her mask it was difficult to tell – Keenan added: “It’s like Santa has come.”
Callum Johnston, 29, a chef, said trade checks between Great Britain and Northern Ireland, even if smoothed at the outset, would have profound consequences. “A border in the sea for a United Kingdom – it’s silly. I think it’ll end in a united Ireland,” he said.
Peter Hobben, 62, a builder, said the uncertainty and the mixed signals from Downing Street that had bedeviled Northern Ireland businesses and consumers would persist. “We’ve been lied to before. We’ll not find out about problems in the food supply or whatever until it happens.”
The region’s political leaders expressed similar frustration that the tariff-free three-month grace period before checks were imposed had left the outcome impenetrable.
“Despite the smoke and mirrors from the UK government what has been agreed does nothing other than kick the can down the road for another three months and create further uncertainty,” said Steve Aiken, the Ulster Unionist party leader. Sinn Féin and the alliance welcomed the breathing space for businesses and consumers but said big decisions still hung in the balance.
As the rain bounced off the pavements of Newry there was at least one optimistic voice. Rosemary Armstrong Woodruff, 66, an unrepentant Brexiter, said: “I’m glad that we’re getting out and that we’ll self govern. I don’t like the EU trying to change our laws and way of life. Autonomy is what I go for.”
If economic disruption hit Northern Ireland, so be it, said Woodruff, a retired addiction counsellor. “Nothing in life is free. It’s the cost of freedom.” She predicted that the UK would eventually rejoin the EU but from a stronger position. “We need to regroup, build our strength. We need a strong leader. I’d like to see a Margaret Thatcher in male form.”
Her husband Peter, a remainer, said treating Northern Ireland differently from the rest of the UK was storing up trouble. “I don’t think it’s a resolvable problem.”
At the mention of Brexit, many in the border town expressed fatigue and incomprehension. “I don’t care about it and don’t worry about it,” said 17-year-old Amy Hadden.
