Goodbye to Ireland

Sunday August 4

Well today wasn’t enormously eventful.

After the obligatory buffet breakfast, we all pile into the bus for a quick lap around the town. Without the middle of town blocked off, things are much more civilized.

We see some (non-red-brick) rather grand buildings. The Belfast City Hall and The Queen’s University are certainly impressive.

We then drive to the epicentre of the aforementioned Troubles. Two working class streets, Falls Rd and Shankill Rd, back to back. One Catholic, one Protestant.

To keep the warring factions apart, a tall fence was built the length of these roads. After the violence ended, this fence has become the Peace Wall. To be fair, The Peace Fence just does have the same gravitas. Today, visitors are asked to stop and sign the wall. Like a giant get well card for the community.

After the tour, it was off to the wharf, and wait to board the ferry to Scotland.

This is a big ferry. The bus drives on, and we all get out and go upstairs for the trip. There are bars, restaurants, lounges, gaming arcades and movie theatre. They must be short movies, because the crossing is about 2 hrs.

Just before docking, all vehicled passengers are asked to mount their vehicles, in readiness for the green flag. Gentlemen, start your engines.

Like some large, cavernous ark, the ferry unceremoniously expels a disparate collection of vehicles, two by two. Then it’s a two+ hr drive to Glasgow, where we are staying for two nights.

On the way, we passed two rather pointless objects.
The first is an island called Ailsa Craig. It a great lump of granite, which is apparently the best granite to quarry for making 🥌 curling stones.

The other one is a golf course belonging to some guy called Trump.

An Aquatic Aside

Saturday August 3 cont.

Here’s an odd thing. Tonight we are at the Stormont Hotel in Belfast. Our hotel last night was the Everglades Hotel in Londonderry.

Both very nice hotels.

Both part of the Hastings family of hotels. The history buffs may be amused that both hotels use Hastings1066 as their wifi password. What amused me is that they have a mascot of sorts. A duck. The kind your children might play with in the bath.

Each hotel has a different duck. The one in Londonderry was the Walled City duck. This one is the Top Hat duck. I took the walled city duck, and I already have the top hat duck. Sarah was not best pleased. “You’re not supposed to take them.”
They might be for small boys to aim at in the bathroom 🤦🏼‍♂️

Then at dinner, there is a jar full of them. The Maitre D explained that they were to remind you of your nice experience at this hotel after you go home. Sarah said we already had one.

What do you mean WE, Tonto?

He said “You now have twins” as he gave Sarah one out of the jar.

Suddenly it’s fine to collect them.

Belfast

Saturday August 3 cont.

Surprisingly, this is not the Belfast just down the road from my house. This is the real one. The original. The one in Northern Ireland. The Capital of Northern Ireland, actually.

After the Giant’s Causeway, it doesn’t take long to get to Belfast.

We struck a bit of drizzling rain today for the first time on this trip. The locals are amazed how lucky we’ve been. Good weather is just not usually on the cards anywhere in the British Isles.

But Sarah did plan for their summer. Not that summer usually amounts to much here. But as luck would have it, there have been record high temperatures here for the last few weeks.

But that may be coming to an end. We have seen in the news recently some heavy rains and flooding in the north of England in the last couple of days. That’s where we’ll be heading in about a week.

Bugger💩💩💩

Anyway.....

The drizzle didn’t really slow us up much. What really fucked things up, was a fucking Gay Pride parade 🏳️‍🌈 in fucking city centre, on the day we fucking arrive.

What was supposed to happen was....
We would be dropped in the city centre, left for a bit over an hour to look around and find some lunch, then back in the bus to go for a tour of the Titanic exhibition. Then back to the city centre for a couple of hours for a longer wander, and have dinner.

What actually happened was....
It took ages to get past all the blocked streets to be dropped not very close to the city centre, for only thirty minutes to find lunch, then back to the bus for a longer than expected trip to the Titanic exhibition. Everyone was too buggered to fight their way through the revellers to check out the city. Back to the hotel, have a drink and then stay in for dinner.

Thanks, Sinead and Quentin !!!

Tomorrow we’re doing a city tour anyway, before we catch the fairy to Glasgow.

So far, Belfast has a fuckload of red brick buildings. A bit of a yawn after the other terrific cities we’ve seen.

The titanic exhibition is definitely worth the entrance fee. Very well done. Interesting building.
(At fucking last!)

Finn McCool’s Man Cave

Saturday August 3

A Sign by any other Name

Friday August 2 cont.

 It has to be said. Some of the signs in the Republic of Ireland were a little special.

This has to be my favourite. Found in the Guild Hall in Londonderry. 

Classic!!

And why wouldn’t they?👌🏽😎👍🏽

Londonderry

Friday August 2 cont.

So from Inniscrone, we head for the border.

We stop in a wee village called Drumcliffe to stretch our legs, and to spend our last euros. Northern Ireland, being part of the United Kingdom, use her majesty’s pounds.

One last stop before the border is a round fortress, which affords a great view of everywhere in all directions.

The border itself is a non-event. Now you’re in the Republic of Ireland, now you’re in Northern Ireland. Just keep driving.

Just inside this new country is the city of Derry, or Londonderry, depending on which church you go to. An attractive town, built on the banks of the river Foyle.

Good to see stress testing in place. At least I now know it’ll take my weight 

We are met by a Chinese Irish tour guide, who takes us on a fascinating walk along part of the city wall. This guy is a gifted orator, who gives us the Readers Digest edition of ‘the troubles’ and the country’s potential future.

We then go to dinner at what is advertised as the best restaurant in Londonderry. Not false advertising. It was one of the best we’ve experienced in any country.

Enniscrone

Friday August 2

I know it sounds like one of those uncomfortable 😣 devices your doctor might use to check your various nooks and crannies, but it’s a seaside village heading up towards the top of Ireland.

About it’s only claim to fame is that somebody has collected an old Russian 767, some train carriages, a double decker bus and an assortment of military vehicles, with the intention of starting up a novelty glamping business. Good luck with that.

Doing breakfast, and will be on the road soon. 

Galway

Thursday August 1 cont.

Stopped at Galway for lunch. We stopped at what’s called the Latin Quarter, and there were buskers, souvenirs and the obligatory selection of traditional Irish pubs.

We were there at a busy time. The races were on today, and apparently they’re quite popular hereabouts. All of the pretty girls in Galway (and there were a lot of them), were parading past, on their way to where the bus would take them to the races. Stunningly turned out, clearly they’d had everything washed and waxed, and off they teetered in their best size-too-small Lycra minidresses. If they’re anything like the girls back home on race day, before dark they will have vomited in a rubbish bin (the netball players with good aim), peed in the gutter, and will be walking barefooted with a spiked high hell shoe in one hand, and no clue where they left the other one.

Here’s one of last year’s little stars, who has no memory of what happened on race day.

On the road to Galway Bay

Thursday August 1

We’re in the coach driving to Galway. On the way we passed through Limerick.

Our guide Speedy has challenged us to write a limerick before we get to Galway. The prize is a bottle of Irish whiskey.

Here’s a few I’ve knocked together on the drive. Are any good enough to win?

There was a bus driver called Gerry 

Who drove on roads steep and scary

When asked why you do it

He replied there’s nothing to it

I just never dare look in the mirror 

We took a bus tour of old Ireland 

That traveled from lowland to highland 

We saw sea, we saw lake

And not one of them fake

Some days I do wish it was my land

What a strange old bird is the pelican 

Who can hold more in his beak than his belly can

He can hold more in his beak

Than I can eat in a week

And I don’t know how in the hell ‘e can

We’re driving on roads long and winding 

Small villages we’re constantly finding 

Thatched roof and bog houses

And some potcheen wowsers 

Drink too much and it’s guaranteed blinding

We’ve been asked to compose a wee limerick 

The prize is much more than a dram of it

I can’t think of a rhyme 

And I’ll run out of time

The pressure’s so strong I might shit a brick

Our guide’s a wee chap called Speedy 

His whiskers not what I’d call weedy

On topics this and that

I’d like to share a wee chat

But in a group of this size that‘s just greedy

Hint: one I didn’t write. I was told this by my dad as a child. Guess which one. 

Our last night in Killarney

Wednesday July 31 cont.

So after we got back from Kerry’s Ring, we wanted to stretch our legs a bit. We explored a little further than the last time, and found an outlet store. One clothing store worth a look, otherwise Meh...

On the way back, Sarah wanted to try a local pub. Sarah wanted a Prosecco, and I found that they have Orchard Thieves on tap, just like home. Nice. The young waitress has to check the bar upstairs for the Prosecco, but no luck. She tries two more locations and still no luck, so Sarah chooses something else. I’m just about finished my cider by then, so feel like something new.

Adele, the woman who showed us around Dublin that first day, talked about an Irish-specific soft drink called red lemonade. Doesn’t seem to have caught on anywhere outside of Ireland. She told us that it is regarded as a popular mixer with whiskey. Choose your brand and have it with red. For example, she said, Jameson and red.

So I thought I’d try that. But first I’d make sure they carry the red lemonade. When we stopped for lunch on our wander around Dublin, the waitress looked at me like I was speaking a different language. So yes, the Failte Hotel carries it. I’ll have a Jameson and red, thanks. No problem.

The barman gives me a glass with the whiskey and ice, and passes me the lemonade bottle. Apparently I get to choose the proportions myself. Cool.

After drinks, we did some more wandering, and ended up going to dinner at a western-themed family restaurant. Cheap and cheerful.

While we were eating, I noticed a woman in the booth across from us. She was ravenously tearing the flesh of what I can only assume is a chicken wing. After every bite, she would lick each finger.
Chomp. Lick. Lick. Slurp. Chomp. Lick. Lick. Slurp. Over and over.

I was transfixed, just waiting for her to get the sequence wrong and take a bite out of a finger.

Once there was nothing but bones on her plate, she was ready for round two. Not sure what this was but the bowl was deep. Mac and cheese, perhaps. If this is her regular diet, then it’s no wonder she had struggled to slide into the booth. Oh dear.