“Could you tell me how to get? How to get to Glentoran Street?” – Adapted from Sesame Street Theme Tune.
Actually, I can tell you how to get to Glentoran Street and my Dad especially can. For years and years, Glentoran Street was on my mind. I knew about it, I knew where it once was, but yet Dad and I got busy and neglected this trip down memory lane. We stalled it. We backpacked Galway, Fields of Athenry, Kaliningrad, Hong Kong, Sri Lanka, Nice/Lyon/Paris…
In Northern Ireland, we even hiked up Slemish mountain, visited Rathlin Island and went to Ulidia Playing Fields, the place where competitive international football all began.
Glentoran Street was on the back burner. Until December 2025.
Back To Glentoran Street
When our turn finally came to head back to Glentoran Street, it was a sentimental staggering adventure. December 2025. Dad had not been back here since moving out in the 1960s. The time was now. Here on the pretty perky streets of a hard-working city. Belfast. The Northern Ireland capital. And the sun rises in the East, so East Belfast was where we went to. Ravenhill Road to take Dad home to not just where he grew up but where he was BORN. Dad was BORN at 20 Glentoran Street, long before hospital wards became cool.
“Come and play, everything’s A-okay, friendly neighbours there. That’s where we meet” – What Glentoran Street probably all was.
What is Glentoran Street?
This question should have been asked in the 1960s, when Glentoran Street, or its residents at least, looked like this…and existed…
Glentoran Street was a typical working class street of terraced housing in East Belfast. There was camaraderie and neighbourhood spirit in the 1950s and 1960s before the bad times. There is usually no religion or bias on my travel blogs but for those who don’t know – those who know me will know I am Northern Irish nationalist – I am also a Catholic Protestant. Yes I am both Catholic and Protestant, and I go into both churches. I am not British, not southern Irish, not unionist and not republican. Just Northern Irish. I’m just a boy from Northern Ireland looking for peace, health and happiness. Dad is the same. He’s just a Belfast boy from Glentoran Street.
“There’s something magic in the air” – Tim Wheeler.
Why did Dad and I go to Glentoran Street in December 2025?
It was a needed trip for both of us. For years I had longed for Dad to walk the streets where he was born and grew up, even though those streets are no longer there, in that format. Dad was born in number 20 Glentoran Street (where Great Granny Annie and Granda John lived) and grew up in number 4 Glentoran Street (where Granny Mary and Granda Sam lived – Dad’s parents).
Glentoran Street in all its glory lost its moniker in the 1980s when it was bulldozed. The name was removed, new housing was built, the “Glentoran Street” sign was removed and the new streets became known as Shamrock Street, Shamrock Place and Shamrock Court. Glentoran Street, as Dad knew it, had gone. Forever. My Granny and Granda moved out to the Cregagh Estate and when Dad got married, he moved to Bangor. Mum grew up in Comber and I was born in Newtownards and grew up in Bangor. Glentoran Street was knocked down completely and new houses were built there…for sure you would shed a tear leaving some of this magic behind you. I found these photos online (copyright Philip McAlpine) of Glentoran Street before it was knocked down.
Back in the 1940s, these terraced housing streets were everywhere in Belfast. It was the norm. The post-war Baby Boom was a real thing. The 50s were redevelopment and industries. The swinging 60s saw black and white television, The Beatles and the first football World Cup in the UK. England hosted it in 1996, and won it. Northern Ireland were a win over Switzerland from making it. The 1970s and 1980s were troubled times for our wee country, with “the troubles” dominating daily life. But Belfast is strong. And Belfast moves on.
Of course those photos above are explained to me by Dad – the whole street was a straight street, which started on the Ravenhill Road, it was called Glentoran Street. For the purpose of this blog post and to explain the geography to me, Dad refered to the bit before Kenolty’s shop as Lower Glentoran Street and the bit beyond as Upper Glentoran Street. Those monikers are not official. It was just Glentoran Street. As we walk these streets, my mind drifts back to the 1950s and 1960s. How it might have been. The weirdest thing of all is there is now an L shaped street off the Ravenhill Road with no name. That street has no name, no houses on it, just an L shaped street with a car park. The buildings on one side all have their addresses on the Ravenhill Road. And what exactly is this street with no name?
What is this street with no name?
“Where the streets have no name” – U2.
The street with no name, in an L shape is actually Glentoran Street.
This is the same entrance, the same two corners. This has not changed. They just removed the name Glentoran Street and the position and terrain of the rest of that street ceased to be.
“Round this town, you’ve ceased to be” – Noel Gallagher.
As I walked with Dad, this became obvious to him quickly on seeing the church – Ian Paisley’s church which is also no longer in use. This street, is Glentoran Street. As Dad explains it to me using the church as his memory jogger, his tablet as a bearing and a non-existent gable wall to prove that it is in a back garden or a window in front of us, where 4 Glentoran Street once was. On 4 Glentoran Street, Dad grew up.
Dad and I then realise we are definitely on Glentoran Street but would need to walk all the way round and up Shamrock Street to find the exact locations of numbers 4 and 20 Glentoran Street.
The photo below shows an open window in the background. This photo and memory is rather poignant. As Dad stares up at this window, he knows immediately that is where his old house, 4 Glentoran Street once stood. It’s a typical grey Belfast day. This all fits the mood.
I selfie myself on Glentoran Street knowing I have finally come here and today we brought a Glentoran scarf. The reason I support Glentoran FC is simple – because Dad was born on Glentoran Street! I didn’t grow up here on this street, but here I am on Glentoran Street where Dad grew up…
Now that we have reminisced on the entrance to Glentoran Street, the wall prevents us going to where 4 and 20 Glentoran Street were. One other thing confuses Dad slightly is the L shaped part – was part of the L the old Rathmore Street or is that simply and new car park part of the L? The old entrance to Rathmore Street has gone, but the upper part (adjacent to My Lady’s Road) still exists. Some enigma there.
And Sherwood Street, akin to Glentoran Street has also been erased. Eversleigh Street, which still exists and we dandered down it, has been moved and changed slightly – it was above Mount Street, which separated it from Rathmore Street (again, which was adjacent to Glentoran Street and of an “L”). Eversleigh Street did back onto the houses on My Lady’s Road but that has changed also. Plus the original Glentoran Street entrance still exists with no name and is now accessed via “Shammy S” (Shamrock Street).
Shamrock Street (where Glentoran Street once was)
As we head into Shamrock Street, we meet a local lad by chance on the street – Frankie Rice. Dad and Frankie chat, and as they chat, it is clear they have things in common. Dad is older than Frankie but they reminisce for a while. They both grew up here. Frankie jokes as he spies my scarf “I’m a blueman” he says. Being born in and around Glentoran Street wouldn’t lend me to be a Linfield supporter!
We cannot get past the old gable wall and a wee lane offers no clue as to the exact 4 Glentoran Street spot…but Dad poses outside a house on the current Shamrock Street. This is where Dad grew up. This is the place and the moment.
This is Dad’s moment on Glentoran Street
He was first here, born at the end of the 1940s, he grew up here in the 1950s and 1960s here. It is now the 2020s. Only a decade with the word 30 in it is missing. I stagger at a potential 9 decade long story here.
As Dad walks down the lane, I envisage him kicking a ball against the wall. It happened countless times in the 1950s and 1960s…except the wall is new. This would have been the actual Glentoran Street street rather than a wall.
We have seen Shamrock Street, Shamrock Place and Shamrock Court. Somehwere in all that hides our historic Glentoran Street…number 4 and 20…the big red dots below…
Photos at Glentoran Place
Here in 2025, we go to the new street called Glentoran Place. This is a homage and a reminder to where Glentoran Street once was. But it is an immediate red herring. Dad knows this was not the exact spot, it was up a bit. We get our photos on Glentoran Place anyway, for the memory.
There are a few other curiosities on this adventure, such as walking down Cherryville Street, Eversleigh Street and My Lady’s Road. We didn’t pop into any shops, or the cafe or the pub. It was just nice to be there walking Dad’s streets into a 9th decade…
“We can hide by a lonely windowpane. We can walk the streets of my life while they still remain” – Noel Gallagher.
This is arguably my favourite travel blog post ever. I really recommend going to where your parents grew up. The inspiration oozes and falls from nobody’s empty sky. Despite the fact that I never saw the real Glentoran Street, I feel that part of my heart is in Glentoran Street. Perhaps I was born in the wrong decade (the 1980s)…
Here are some other reminiscing travel blog posts…
Backpacking The Sefton Isle of Man – 50 Years After Mum and Dad’s honeymoon
Feeling Where I All Began in Gran Canaria By Chance
31 Years Later at the Heathlands Hotel in England
Here are some videos from this fascinating trip down memory lane where Dad walked me from Cherryville Street right down to the old Glentoran Street on the Ravenhill Hill via Nettlefield School, Ian Paisley’s Church and the current “Glentoran Place”:
