"There are soldiers in those bushes. They're probably aiming at us right now. Say nothing. Just keep walking."

I shuddered at the prospect of gunfire.

"And there's a sniper on the roof."

I looked up at RTÉ's flat roof and thought I could see the glint of sunlight on a gun barrel. I imagined tanks rolling along Nutley Lane and bombs going off in Ballsbridge.

Looking back, it's hard to believe that soldiers were stationed in Donnybrook during the 1970s. They were there to guard RTÉ against an IRA incursion. I still remember, on trips there with my journalist father, the clang of the steel doors locking the newsreaders into the studio.

The soldiers at RTÉ were a reminder that we lived on an island where violence was never too far away. There was no shortage of these reminders.

I remember my father yanking me past men handing out de Valera remembrance cards at the GPO in 1975. "IRA sympathisers," he muttered.

I remember, in 1971, a last-minute detour on the way to Laytown took us away from Talbot Street – minutes before the Dublin/Monaghan bombs went off.

I remember a letter bomb being safely detonated at the end of our road. It had been sent to a well-known Republican who was away on holidays and was being looked after by his Protestant neighbour.

There was 'Tom', our uncle's brother, who had carried his dying wife across Belfast's rooftops in the aftermath of a bombing.

Even in comfortable south Dublin, the Troubles were never far from your mind. There were times when you thought the news reports couldn't get any worse – they did. Then, in 1997, something unthinkable happened: the Good Friday Agreement was signed. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, peace set in.

Over the years, I found myself saying "I never thought I'd see the day when …" on a regular basis.

I never thought I'd see the day when the IRA would cease fire. I did.

I never thought I'd see the day they would destroy their arms and enter Stormont. I did.

I never thought I'd see the day when the SDLP would be eclipsed by Sinn Féin. I never thought I'd see the day when McGuinness and Paisley would be called 'the chuckle brothers'. I did. There have been so many 'I never thought' moments that I can't remember them all.

The north is no Disneyland, but it is transforming itself. Peace, not violence, has passed the point of no return. The former slaughterhouse now frequently surprises us with inspirational days. Days like last Tuesday.

I never thought I'd see the day when a Tory PM would apologise for Bloody Sunday. Its whitewash was proof of how much the establishment detested the Irish.

When David Cameron apologised, I felt the same swell of emotion I had when the Guildford Four were released. I sensed history closing one door and opening another. There was the feeling that this might be the North's last 'I never I thought I'd see the day' moment. What other spectacular announcements are left to be made now?

This felt like it might mark the end of the Peace Process. Some date will have to mark the moment that peace was finally achieved. Was Tuesday 15 June 2010 that day?

This apology shows that lasting peace may now be possible between nationalism and the establishment. It has also ensured that a united Ireland is now further away than ever before.

When the crowds in Derry applauded Cameron, they showed how much Northern Ireland is becoming normalised. Derry 2010 is vastly different to Derry 1972. It's bidding to become a UK City of Culture – a sign of its new-found self-confidence and sense of place.

One of the dividends of normalisation has been a growing Catholic middle class, thriving in new-found stability. The south, on the other hand, is now the unstable part of this island. We once saw the North in its death throes. It now sees us struggling to survive. It sees record levels of house repossessions. On Monday there were 75 cases before the High Court. It sees record levels of unemployment. Last month it rose to 13.7%. It's 6.9% up North. Even with a Tory government in place and spending cuts on the way, Northern Catholics are better off staying within the UK.

One of the gambles republicanism took when it disarmed was not whether it would be able to sell its new strategy to its grass roots. It was whether it would be able to sell a united Ireland to the affluent new middle class.

The added measure of normalisation that Saville has brought has made this more difficult. It's no longer a foregone conclusion that nationalists would vote to cede from the UK. Republicanism now has to make a united Ireland attractive.

Dissidents will try to turn the clock back, but they won't succeed. It would take another Bloody Sunday for that to happen. Tuesday proved there will be no more Bloody Sundays.

A united Ireland slipped further away last week. We can just hope we never see a day when the greater Republican movement tries to force its arrival again.

We can just hope we never see a day when soldiers are back hiding in the bushes of Dublin 4.

dkenny@tribune.ie