Dungannon

If Hugh O’Neill, earl of Tyrone, had had his way, Dungannon would be the capital of Ulster. It’s odd to imagine a Northern Ireland that didn’t evolve around Belfast and the sea, but looked to this far-seeing hilltop town for spiritual and political guidance. To condense 400 years of history, what happened was: O’Neill doubled up as regional leader and agent for Elizabeth I; then he didn’t; he led a rebellion of earls against the English crown; they lost; the earls and their followers fled to Spain to muster a force, or reflect in exile; they never got there.

All this, and more, is explained in an impressive exhibition at Dungannon’s Ranfurly House, which stands beside the Hill of The O’Neill (Ireland’s great princes got their own definite article). As well as the storytelling, artworks and archaeological information, I was struck by three parallel timelines – one for Ireland, one for England and Scotland, one for the Americas and Rest of the World. As the centre’s genial guide Peter Lant says: “Nothing ever happens only in one place.” Dungannon is an epicentre, a crossroads, a place where the past is layered and deep. The earls had stone seats that symbolised their power. Dungannon is like a mighty throne, hill-shaped, laden with history and memory.

Over the centuries, the hill has been Druidic stronghold, Irish fortress, plantation castle, back garden of 19th-century banker Thomas Knox Hannyngton (two towers of his Georgian house still stand), British Army base and observation tower, and, more recently, improvised TV studio (used during the pandemic) and wedding venue. The huge communications mast isn’t pretty; the two large CCTV cameras are army-issue. But the views of Dungannon’s lofty church steeples and surrounding farmlands are sweeping, and beyond lie the Cooley and Mourne mountains.

The town square – laid out at the start of the 17th century on English lines by Sir Arthur Chichester, lord deputy of Ireland – is broad and airy, and a market sets up on Thursdays. There’s plenty of functional redbrick – Dungannon was one of the most bombed towns during the Troubles – but old buildings survive: Scottish baronial-style police barracks; the French gothic St Patrick’s church, designed by JJ McCarthy, “the Irish Pugin”; grand townhouses; terraced cottages in Milltown. Dungannon, with Belfast and Newry, was a vertex of the Linen Triangle, turning out huge quantities of brown cloth. There are still jobs and a degree of affluence here; the Deli on the Green is as smart as any Belfast bistro.

A 2014 survey found Dungannon to be one of the five cheeriest towns in the UK. Guardian writer Zoe Williams wrote: “I don’t know how” as it was “easily the ugliest town I’ve ever seen.” Perhaps it rained that day. But locals love it and so do incomers. Pre-Brexit, the area was an east European hotspot. Today, Northern Ireland’s largest community of East Timorese immigrants swell local Catholic congregations, some excelling at Gaelic football.

The Flight of the Earls; the arrival of the hopeful. Unfinished stories. Dungannon has been attacked, but is very much intact – and it has some of the best views, and stories, in Northern Ireland.

Things to do: Lough Neagh; Mid-Ulster Cycle Route; Hill of The O’Neill & Ranfurly House; OM Dark Sky Park, the Sperrin mountains