I had the pleasure of taking a historic train (as old as me) from Lancaster to Oban this week. The best bit was that mum.came along for the ride. I do have to say that 5.30am.is a very early start … especially when the train didn’t arrive until 7 due to a technical fault.
Midland Pullman 1960s
When this beauty turned up (with the air con full given the heatwave) we were very relieved and very hungry. Still never mind breakfast have a Bucks Fizz!
I have to say that the food was amazing not to bore you with tens of photos of food but suffice to say granola and yoghurt followed by a full English (we were in Lockerbie by then) with tea and coffee was a decent start. The views were getting better the farther North we travelled.
Random Loch and Mountain Picture
We had a table and for two whilst our seat mates opposite were a table for four and there was much chatter and banter throughout the journey. One of our seatmates was on a quest to take every luxury train in the UK and seemed to know most of the lovely staff. Sadly they were in tartan waistcoats not the traditional white and blue Pullman livery.
Despite the early start and a huge breakfast and pastries we still had enough energy in Oban to take a walk around the harbour. I know it sounds unlikely but we actually had to stop to buy suncream!
View from Oban Harbour
Obviously the late start meant our time in Oban was brief but to be honest a return to air conditioning was more than welcome. No more that half an hour out the diner service started. That was maybe four o’clock. We were still eating at nine! From the amuse bouche through the starter, main, cheese, and dessert we just about made it to the petit fours. Lovely to share a bottle of wine too.
First Class Service
Was I ready for bed when we made it back? Yes, very much so. Would I do it again? Yes,in fact mum has already found us another adventure by rail for the autumn if all goes to plan. Best bit? Getting to spend a full day with mum. I don’t often get her to myself.
Some amazing views.
Thanks to the folks at Midland Pullman for a very special day.
I’ve an old friend. We met through a play scheme we worked on in Antrim over 40 years ago. Erik got in touch a few weeks ago to say he was off back to Northern Ireland and did I fancy going walking with him.in the Morne Mountains. Yes I did, and off we went.
The Kilmorey Arms Hotel
We met at Dublin airport and drove up to Kilkeen for a few days. Our base of operations was the Kilmorey Arms and this place was amazing. Comfortable and welcoming, staff could not do enough for us. The town itself is a little down at heel, a working fishing village with a reputation for excellent sea food. I have to say we are well at the hotel although the options around town were limited. The little Italian restaurant was good also. Family friendly and without an alcohol license if that’s a deal breaker. It wasn’t for us.
Doan in the Mournes
We asked our breakfast server for advice and were recommended Doan as a challenge but not too much. Good choice. We made either to the top (593m) in just under two hours and down a little quicker. The rain set in as the car park came into view.
Soggy
Day two was horizontal rain from the get go. We decided that our walk today would be down memory lane. Erik and I met as a result of being idealistic young people back in the mid nineteen eighties. We were workers on a series of play schemes which crossed the political divide. People were used to slogans and shootings in Antrim and Belfast, Armagh and Portadown. Children grew up heavily indoctrinated. We wanted to be part of the solution. We went to play and to somehow help children from Republican and Unionist sides to meet. Thankfully the peace process was successful with the Good Friday Agreement. It is not 100% but it is good to know that driving a vehicle with a Dublin number plate is no longer a guarantee of an attack in the North. We saw what was going on back then in the ‘troubles’. One place more central to the peace than you know is a priory in a tiny speck of a place called Benburb. We went back through Newry and Armagh to visit.
Benburb Priory (Service Order) was founded in a former mansion and estate on the edge of the town. The members of the order, mostly priests but we know of a couple of nuns, made it their business to serve. Local people were involved in events onsite and slowly came to accept the presence of these outsiders. The priory today still serves the community with a cafe and small museum and library. The grounds are open for walking and quiet contemplation as well as festivals and celebrations. Many people wanted to speak with us. Some had personal connections.with Erik and his family.
At Benburb Priory
A day of high emotion and comfortable silences on the return journey as we each thought about how this place has shaped our lives.
Day three was grey. We had a late breakfast with friends from the Benburb area. When they left to carry on family duties we took to the hills again. The aim for the day to make it to the Blue Lough. A well-defined and short footpath lead from the walkers car park and we looked up to the clouded hills.
Path to Blue Lough
We were wrapped in waterproof jackets and strong boots. Whilst there were some puddles to cross.on the way up it was not raining heavily but as we climbed the cloud came down and we had to turn around short of our goal. We were soaked to the skin. Back to the hotel for a warm shower and a cup of tea. Reading in the hotel lounge for a peaceful hour was the perfect end to the day.
Staff cheerfully greeted us at six forty five handed the packed lunch we had asked for in lieu of breakfast as we headed back to Dublin and our respective flights home. The simple cheese sandwich was an actual platter with salad and crisps and fruit and impossible to eat in the car! We passed through the border by simply driving along the A roads. There is no boundary as such. In some ways what we were working for has happened. The island is basically one again.
While we were away a man was publicly killed in the USA. We still do not know why at time of writing. It brings to mind the ‘Troubles’. It took a long time for a fragile peace to be established in Ireland. I fear for the USA. We talked about it on our drive both hoping that this doesn’t spark revenge after revenge. Violence is never the answer.
What a week. Lovely to see an old friend. Wonderful to see the glorious countryside. Amazing to remember the part we may have played and the people who did more that we ever could to bring peace. My American friends please take care. Remember that this will pass. Peace takes effort on all sides but mostly inside yourself.
We just got up and decided to go. This time it was Quarry Bank Mill. It’s a National Trust property. I’ve been with a work group of new students who can’t believe the conditions a 10 year old child might expect to work in.
Quarry Bank is special because it was the very first “ideal village” in that Mr Greg (not the pasties) built housing and two chapels and a pub for his workers as well as housing. Paying them with one hand and taking it back in the shop or over the bar. This is one of those properties that gets more visitors in the week because it’s popular with school parties.
What an amazing place.
Park signOak Cottages Inside the spinning shed
Engels visited this place. He found it to be better than central Manchester but couldn’t speak to the residents privately so was pretty sure there was stuff to hide all the same. Yep model.villagw ties directly to the Communist Manifesto. Bear in mind that although the village had a school and a library the Greg family very much controlled what people could learn and read.
Two of my nieces and their parents (well, they are only 10 and 5 respectively) have just moved to Wales. The girls are settled in school and the family are enjoying their new life. One thing they have to consider is that the girls will have to learn Welsh as part of their schooling in order to get the best from life there. I think it’s great. Both parents have some Spanish, having lived there in their teens and now it’s time to see the other side where you are the parent in another country debating the need to learn the language.
As a wise old aunty I realise that teens love the idea of secrets from mum and dad. What better way to keep them than to speak a whole new language! Naturally there’s only one thing I can do.. I have to learn Welsh.
Now I’m not saying I’ll ever be fluent but hopefully I’ll know enough to scare the children into believing or worrying that I am. Lol (as the young people say).
I had a Welsh friend at uni many moons ago and started to learn then but you lose touch things drift and there’s no reason to remember so now I’ve gone back to a language app to try again. We went to a pantomime, starring one of the nieces and her mum, over the weekend and I found myself reading (badly) the Welsh language signs and leaflets. I even brought some home. I tried out a phrase or two on the staff and was thanked for my efforts. Apparently my accent is good.
It seems to me a matter of respect to learn something of a country’s language and culture before you go. Even if all you can say is “sorry I don’t speak the language” it shows you’ve made the effort. Trying to explain that Wales is its own country with separate laws and government within the UK is a tough concept for some people.
I’m not about to lecture anyone over their choices. Having a little Spanish when in Valencia a few weeks back made our lives easier (ironically so did having a little Dutch since they formed the bulk of tourists there). People open up to you and show a greater to help generally (I’m not sure Paris operates on the same rules) gets a smile and care in service. Now I’m not claiming to be any kind of linguist I’m just saying taking a little time and care to be decent to people makes a huge difference.
I’m going to continue with my Welsh lessons. You never know when it could save a niece from a terrible situation.
I’m off to Valencia. I’ve never been before and it’s 50 years at least since I was in Spain. The journey is part holiday and part Ingress Anomaly. Ingress is an Augmented Reality Game (ARG), which I’ve been playing for a number of years now and which I’m using as the basis for the ole’ PhD. One day (maybe two) will be battling for my team on the global battlefield, and the rest will be rest.
I wrote the message above before we left on the 30th October. We heard there had been heavy rain. People at the airport were happy enough but as our flight time approached there was increasing concern as I was seeing messages from friends already there that roads were closed and they were having to walk from the airport. The flight took off as planned but staff began talking about the metro system being totally closed … No taxis… City buses may or may not be running…
We arrived to find a queue for taxis which stretched back for hours (talking to people in the queue). Thankfully we snagged an Uber within minutes and made the city and our apartment just before 10 pm. Our hosts were very concerned and very confident that the trip we had planned by train out of the city was not going to happen. Local government information suggested we would be ok at that time.
Then we caught the news.
Waking up in a beautiful restored historical monument of a home in a city searching for it’s own was surreal. The historic centre of Valencia was totally dry and safe thanks to Franco having drained the river years before in case of just such an emergency. This was not something local people wanted to acknowledge had saved lives. We wandered the streets a little dazed. How do you act as a tourist when people are dying just a few miles away? What could we do? Of course the obvious thing was to leave and let the people get on with repairing their city. Naturally flights were booked up and also (naturally) the scalping had begun with one airline raising ticket prices over 500% How is there not international law against this?
We found there was no way out until our planned leaving date anyway and it wouldn’t be our planned route as 3 km of track had been washed away and train tunnels filled with rubble etc. We were not going that way. In fact we ended up flying into Mallorca and then home.
Unsurprisingly the events planned for the weekend had been cancelled. I was more than a little irritated by fellow players complaining about this because they wouldn’t get their badge! FFS! People have died here. That evening we called in to the meet up said our hello’s, ate, collected our game packs and left still wondering what we could do.
The answer turned out to be to donate to the food bank. We took a couple of bags of the things they had requested. It was little enough. This image is one of five collection points half an hour before it was supposed to open. I honestly don’t think it had closed for siesta. There was a lengthy queue of Valencians waiting to bus out as volunteers. The rules were : wear boots and bring a broom.
We saw quite a bit of the old city. The ceramic museum , S Joan and S Nicholas churches, the ancient city wall (part of which we were staying in). We spent a whole day at Oceanagrafic, the aquarium. We met new friends and found ourselves invited back when the city has recovered. The mayor is in trouble for a breach of his duty of care. The king was covered in mud from the clods thrown at him on his visit but we were invited back. We tried to be thoughtful and respectful. We asked after people their friends and family. They shared their stories and thanked us. Good luck Valencia.
Happily watching Susan Calman as she tours Liverpool. The joy of this is that I know and love this city well. People if ypu can get the UK channel 5 please check this out.
The Liver Buildings, Charles Dickens, Williamson’s Tunnels, the Atheneum, St George’s Hall. It’s an amazing city about more than the Beatles, more than tne football teams.
If you’ve never been, please visit. Walk the streets, see the sights but above all talk to the people. You won’t regret it.
If you live in the UK and have a Stonegate owned pub near you, it may be that at busy times.the price of your drink goes up. That, in essence, is dynamic pricing. Now we are used to holidays costing more.in the school holidays so it’s not the first time this tactic has been used. Hurrah for the quiet pint eh?
Last night was.the first official run out for ‘the talk about my Australian adventures last year. A group of former Guide leaders assembled for the first time since July and excited to see each other as well as to hear the talk and, of course, have tea and a chat.
It’s a little unnerving when your mum is on the front row. This was only half the tale though. Tne story if the train across the desert but not of my time in the outback. I am reliably informed that someone was overhead saying they could listen to it all again. Certainly, feedback was in the form of questions and talwles of family members’ involvement in the building of Australia. Its lovely that people opened up to share their own stories with me, and I was honoured.
I should point out that this was the hottest day of the year to day at 29 degrees centigrade and that we had to close the door part way through because of brass band practice in the next building! The tea was amazing, and I’m pleased to say that all equipment worked as it should. (The touring show being a little different from a ready-made classroom setup)
My current vice is watching YouTube travel videos. (Maybe I’ll start a channel one day) . In that I don’t pay for the Tube I get ads between and during the videos. Currently, it bring dummer (allegedly) in.the uk, these are largely holiday ads. Many of these are for branded packages to sunny climes. Every fibre of my screams ‘noooooo’ when I see these. I love a bit of luxury, but I’m not averse to a hostel either what I loathe with a passion is tourist hotels. Now I know that when travelling for pleasure you cannot escape the fact that everyone is a tourist. Do not fool yourselves ‘digital nomads’ you’re just tourists with a computer.
What sparked my rant today is an ad for a Hard Rock Hotel. Now, I have an extensive collection of Hard Rock pins, and I’ve spent many a happy hour feeding my face in the cafes as I grew up. I tend to avoid them now. (Please contact me if you want to buy any Hard Rock pins) in preference for local small businesses. Locally run cafes tend to offer better food. I’m no angel. I use air bnbs. On the whole, we tend to look for homes that people actually live in and rent when they’re not there. That’s as it was intended before it was corrupted as a business taking a lot of viable small homes out of the housing market. I rarely use hotels. I stay with friends and they stay with us. Tourist central with the noise and pools and buffet breakfast queue… if you’ve read the Australia posts, you’ll know that was the most disappointing aspect of our visit to Yalara.
Don’t get me wrong I’m lucky enough to not be taking kids with me (I love my nieces, and we’re meeting them and their parents abroad at some point this year) we can pick and choose. We can go during term time, not in peak periods. It can be much quieter when we travel. If I had tips for anyone, these are they. Do not travel to major tourist traps. There are many underrated places on this planet. Walk where you can. Take public transport where possible. (I know that is not possible in the USA, for example). Drunk and shouting by or in the pool daytime or 3am it’s not a good look on anyone. Respect people, and generally, you’ll find they help you, and you’ll find hidden gems and have wonderful experiences that the herd miss.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a train journey to Matchu Pitchu to watch….
I spent Monday evening teaching SCUBA theory to three blokes who seemed fixated on how many ways SCUBA can kill you. Obviously you can die SCUBA diving but the whole point of teaching safety and calculations etc is to prevent that happening. Almost the entire evening boiled down to …’there are old divers and there are bold divers but there are no old, bold divers’. Translated: do as you’re told, take safety seriously and you’ll have a better chance of survival.
Look, I know that calculating a risk is not sexy. I’m at a point in my life where I don’t care what you think. I prefer to come up from dive a little tired and grinning at the wonderful things I’ve seen or learned along the way. What set them off was a true story of the day there was an unsuccessful rescue of a diver at a site I was visiting. I don’t particularly know the details of what happened only that I was amongst those who helped in the rescue and aftermath. I’m sure it haunts the people directly involved to this day.
Tuesday I took a couple of those same blokes into the swimming pool (the have not progressed into open water yet) to practice rescue techniques. Let’s say they will get some more practice before we let them out into the real world. It’s hard trying to relate the safety of the pool environment to the great outdoors and a surprising number of big husky guys and gals revert to holding the instructors hand like a child when they get into a diving centre’s water for the first time. Eventually though they learn to float effortlessly with the flow and it becomes an almost meditative experience. I’m lucky. I’ve been a BSAC dive Instructor for about 5 years at time of writing, and diving for about 8 years or so. I get to practice all the skills very regularly because I’m teaching them. Complete mask removal and replacement in 4 degree (centigrade) water if not fun but it proves that you could do it if you needed to, it is not that cold at the moment and was a balmy 11 degrees C in the deep end of the quarry last week.
A word about quarries. The one where I dive is not a working quarry. It has been converted into a dive centre. There is a phone and rescue equipment, certified rescuers… that sort of thing. To anyone out there thinking of a refreshing dunk in your local water source please don’t do it unless properly trained and equipped. I spend a chunk of time every summer explaining to parents and teens that the water may look lovely but it is both deep (your toddler will get into difficulty in 6 to 20 metres of water) and cold (look there’s a reason I’m wearing this diving suit and rubber hood). Even the open water swimmers are wearing full length wetsuits and carrying floats. At the moment most of the UK is staying indoors (it is summer) as its heaving down with rain but once that sun shines you know that some teenage boy is going to die by being too bold in very cold water. For reference it’s the shock to your system of a huge temperature change. (I have swum, supervised in a dock in the North of England wearing nothing but a swim suit in November, a long time ago. It was for a lifesavers exam. I really can’t recommend it).
ffiftypluses 