Belfast

I have been getting out and about recently and have used my rail card three times in nine days. 

My first outing was to Portrush with Bert, Hannah and the girls. That would be the annual trip to Barry's Amusements, which is now known as Curry's Amusements. As Martha and Evie are now taller than everyone except Bert they no longer go on the tamer rides. Instead, it is all the scary ones like The Beast and The Waltzer. They may have gone on The Beast five times. 

Of course, Bert and I refused to go on anything as we don't like having our bones shaken about. Instead, we strolled around Portrush like the oldsters we are and looked after the incredibly well-behaved Chico for Hannah. It was, while doing this, that we decided that it was time to lead-train Cleo so that she too could enjoy excursions to the Port. She is, after all, more than 15 months old.

The girls and Chico

My second train journey was a jaunt to Belfast with Vee. We went to the Botanic Gardens to visit the Palm House, the Tropical Ravine, the Medicine Garden and the Museum. It was an enjoyable outing, especially as Vee had never been there before. My favourite parts were the Medicinal Garden (which is new) and the Carravaggios, which are currently on display at the Museum.

Then today, Bert and I took the train to Belfast to visit Smithfield and St George's Market. I knew there was to be an anti-immigration (racist and anti-Islam) protest but did not really expect it to amount to much. But on our way back from Smithfield we found ourselves amid the protest. There were protestors flying  British, Irish and Israeli flags at the top of Royal Avenue. There didn't seem like that many people and most of them seemed to be onlookers. There was a long line of PSNI land-rovers parked bumper to bumper across the road, each with at least one officer in riot gear standing beside them. On the far side of the police vehicles were the counter-protestors. We went to that side.  Both sides were chanting at the other with the counter-protestors making the most noise. There were more of them. Yet, they seemed less threatening. Maybe that was because I agreed with their stance.  

After all that we headed in the direction of St George's Market. I re-upped my Cordyceps Tincture at Spore Shore and we had a coffee and a delicious (shared) brownie. We were joined at our table by a lovely woman who asked us what was happening in town. She was waiting for her daughter to collect her and was concerned that there would be disruptions. We chatted. Our companion was an artist, of Armenian descent and had been born in Haifa. Her family had suffered turmoil both in Israel and Cyprus. I wish we could have spoken to her longer but there was a train to catch. I could not help but think that if the Irish people who are so nationalistic and anti-immigration had any idea how lucky they are to live here at this time of relative stability we might have more compassion for those who have had to uproot their lives and go elsewhere.

Back home I heard that things had turned ugly in Belfast when the anti-immigration crowd headed to South Belfast to protest outside the Belfast Islamic Centre. On the way a Turkish Cafe was attacked, windows broken, outdoor furniture smashed to pieces. Vee and I had walked past both places on Wednesday. I was telling her how much I loved the diversity of the area never dreaming that a couple of days later both places would be attacked. At the time of writing I don't know what will have happened other than that the mosque is under police protection.

Anyone who visits this house in the coming weeks had better not utter one word of support for the racists or they might find the welcome mat pulled from right under their expensive trainers.  

The Rest of the Week

 On Tuesday I cooked dinner for the Haribos. Lasagna and lemon drizzle cake for afters. I expected the lemon drizzle cake to be a doddle as I'd made two on the Saturday for Banjo Man's birthday. The first of those was a disaster, baked in the mini-oven, it was burnt black on top and uncooked in the middle. I pur it down to having oilified the butter before I mixed it. The second cake, baked in the big oven was perfect.

Haribos for dinner on Tuesday night. I made a lasagna and another lemon drizzle cake and this time, not having liquefied the butter it went into the mini oven. Ten minutes later, smoke everywhere, cake burnt black on top, uncooked below. I complained to Bert,

That oven is overheating. Something must have gone wrong with the thermostat. I'm going to dump it.

He went to check it. Told me,

You know what? You had it turned to the grill option. 

I scraped off the black top and finished baking it and it turned out fine. With extra lemon syrup and Bert's amazing custard it went down a treat. No more grilling cakes for me. 

It was up extra early on Wednesday morning . I was taking the eight o'clock train to Belfast as I had an appointment at the BBC. Afterwards I went to the Palm House, the Tropical Ravine and the Museum. I was disappointed to see that the dizygotheca elegantissima was gone from the Palm House. Maybe the PSNI had it under investigation? 

Thursday was Martha day. No Evie as she was at her after-school music practice. I hardly saw Martha that evening as she preferred hanging out with Chico. I don't blame her. Chico is much more fun than Granny.

Did something happen on Friday? I don't remember. The only thing I can recall is a phone call from Vancouver Brother. He and his beloved are holidaying in Puerto Vallarta, staying in a gorgeous pink hotel. 

Then on Saturday we went to a birthday party. Excellent food and the best craic. Today, Sunday Hannah and I went to St Georges Market and took Chico for his first train ride. He seemed to enjoy it all except for the pink double deckers racing past. In all his little life (3 months) he never saw the like before.

I'll be back in Belfast tomorrow as I am taking an old friend (Vee) to Ikea. Wish me well. 

Coronation Weekend

They were my second favourite socks. They were comfortable and just putting them on cheered me up. Cleo chewed the toe out of one and they are now in the bin.

This log basket was a 31st birthday present from Kerry Sister. It's been around a long time. Up until a few days ago it was in tip-top condition. Then Cleo fell to it with her wee needly teeth.

Well might she look hang-dog. She just got a telling-off for bullying Pippin who is far too soft with the pup. She should take lessons from Fred who will take no nonsense from Cleo.

 

Then we had the pleasure of Martha's company for three nights. Her fracture prevented her from going on a planned camping trip with her family so she spent it with us. I took her for lunch at Creative Gardens which was delightfully empty thanks to the CrownFest in London. Who'd have guessed that the folk who frequent upmarket garden centres would be the sort of people glued to their screens when there's a bit of monarchy-related pageantry going on.

Then, taking advantage of the quiet highways, we motored to Antrim so Martha could meet Marty and Jazzer's new pup. His name is Arlo, he is two weeks older than Cleo and quite a lot bigger. We expect to see a great deal of him in future months.

Whilst at the Banjos, we called into Marty's music room. Although it has the look of a pub about it no strong drink was served.

I really like what Marty has done with the mirrors from Pearlie's old dresser.

I had mentioned to Martha that Antrim had a really good sweet shop, well worth a visit so that's where we went next. The customer service was first class despite Martha taking ages to decide what she wanted. 

Saturday night was pizza and wine/fruit juice and The Big Lebowski. 

Sunday was a quiet day for us as Martha went on a jaunt to Montalto with Auntie Hannah and her friends. Martha didn't do too badly for outings for a girl on crutches. 

And what of the Coronation? Didn't see a bit of it. That's two in a row I've missed now. Though I did see some photographs. Their crowns did not become them. 

Guilt Trip

Me on an outing. 1,322 views

It's hard to know why this picture is the seventh most viewed on my Flickr photostream. I don't remember much about it, or who took it, or even where it was. I can roughly date it to the very early nineties. I had met Bert for that is his Indonesian batik bag in the foreground. I was at university for that was my look back then. I would have been coming up to forty, still without a driver's licence. We went out a lot in those days. See a bit of fine weather and off we sped. That never seems to happen now. Cow still not calved, Bert a ton of things to do in the polytunnel, pigs to look after, me a ton of things to do as well but sitting here in front of this screen feeling vaguely guilty that I am not sowing seeds or planting hollyhocks. Guilt trips are the only trips I take these days. Where did it all go wrong?

Starting The Year

Where did I ever find the time and energy to blog every day? Here is a catch up.

New Year's Day

I was very tired. All our guests went home except Hannah who went to bed early. Bert and I had a quiet and uneventful night in front of the television. It was blissful.

2/1/14

Martha and Evie were here for the day. Three of us to look after them! That meant they got to run wild as each of us kept thinking someone else was in charge. At one point I found them in the dunghill splashing happily around with Ziggy. Thankfully they had their welly boots on. Ziggy had to be showered which was a lot of fun for everyone except Ziggy.

Later that evening we all went to the Alternative Medicine Theatre pantomime. It was Robin Hood and the Babes in the Wood. Martha instructed me to war a lovely dress and Bert to put on nice, clean clothes. We obliged. She herself wore a lovely dress, a sparkly ring, lip gloss and a dab of perfume to mask the faint aroma of dung. There had been no time for a bath. Evie and Zoe wore jeans despite Martha's protests. Martha's Dad was allowed to just wear his clothes. I think she must consider him a lost cause.

The pantomime was great fun. Martha was suitably unnerved by the Sheriff of Nottingham but enthralled by the Spirit of the Greenwood (a fairy). Zoe and Evie did not stay for the entire show as Evie was extremely tired. Afterwards we met the cast. Martha was still not sure about the Sheriff but she was delighted when the Spirit of the Greenwood admired her ring.

3/1/14

Spent all day cleaning house. Jakers came round and he and Bert spent the afternoon playing tin whistles. I picked up Ben and Jazzer for they were needed on Saturday.

I phoned a good friend who had a hospital appointment that day. He had worrying news. Nothing definite but huge cause for concern.

4/1/14

On Saturday we had our long-planned Day Out In Belfast. Jazzer stayed behind to look after Pearlie while Nellybert, the girls and Ben headed for the Big Smoke. Martha has requested we go to the Ulster Museum and that's what we did but of course we visited the Palm House and the Tropical Ravine in Botanic Gardens as well.

Martha and Evie love the Ulster Museum and are fairly regular visitors. It has been two years since Hannah and I were there with Martha and I don't expect she remembers it. These days she is the Boss Of The Ulster Museum and knows where everything is. We had a lovely afternoon but I was so tired. I was glad to have Ben and Bert to help.

Martha spent ages in this costume. She was with Ben when she first spotted it and another little girl attempted to take it. Martha had a tight grip on the outfit and a determined expression on her face. The other girl had to give in. Poor Ben couldn't cope. He turned to me and said, I can't handle this. Can you take over? I got her into the costume and added a hoop petticoat. Martha was in another world. Didn't matter that the room was full of other children, that there was lots going on, that it was noisy. She dipped those skirts and floated around, another girl altogether.

Today

Tired. Reading a great book. Dentist tomorrow.

Going Out

Nellybert are going out and Nelly, for one, is all dressed up!

I am wearing the high-heeled shoes I bought in TK Maxx, the black fitted dress I bought in Asda (only £9), the lilac and cream cardigan that Kerry Niece said I had to have from Mexx and the Pandora bracelet that Katy bought me for my birthday with charms from Katy, Bert and Matty. And I am wearing purple tights. For I am getting on a bit. Therefore I must wear purple.

Every Picture Tells A Story

Well I think our Christmas blogmeet went well. Zoe's got some pictures for anyone interested in that sort of thing. Although the Beach Octopus*, a lovely girl, seems to have cleverly avoided appearing in any of them.

We fought our way through thick fog and high mountains to get there, some of us travelled from the far Northern regions (of America, London and Manchesterland), some of us got up at 4am that morning and worked the Nixt! Sale and still managed to attend. Some of us even had to bate our way past worried priests and anxious Mammys to make it to Johnny Joe's on time.

To those of you who couldn't make it - of course we talked about you. But it was all good.

*You really had to be there. Unless Katkins is reading?

Watch Out! There's A Cat-Shaped Space In My Heart That's About To Be Filled

That's it then. Two more of my teeth have been consigned to the rubbish heap. After the extraction (dentist had to kneel on my chest and brace himself to get the blighters out) I went for a brisk walk by the river. And in the dark too - I'm a real hardy hoor. Now I'm suited, booted and teethed to the max for a night out with the Tinkerton crew. If I get round to posting again tonight it will be seriously gin-affected. So I probably won't. Oh yes - tomorrow we're getting a kitten.

Talking to the Cops

While Bert was wending his way back from his night's camping out in Murlough Bay I was out taking Bonnie and Paddy for a walk. Coincidentally we both got stopped by the traffic police. Mine was off-duty and taking his German Shepherd for a walk and we had a bit of a chat about Bonnie and how she's getting on.

Bert's encounter was with the on-duty variety and just outside Armoy. Firstly he accused Bert of driving through the village faster than the required 30mph. Knowing Bert, this was unlikely. He was more likely to have been driving under the speed limit as over it. However it was no matter as the officer had no means of judging his speed and Bert was, as is advisable, most affable and polite to the officer.

And where are you coming from sir?

Murlough Bay.

Murlough Bay?

Yes. I was camping there last night.

Camping? Do you expect me to believe that?

Yes. I was camping with a couple of friends.

And who are these friends? And where are they now?

It's Marty M..... and Brian I don't know his second name. They're sitting in Ballycastle now at a big fry and if you wait there they'll be along eventually.

Please step outside the van sir....

The Perils Of Drink: Swisser Gets Dropped On Her Head

We went to visit the Wee Mannies last night. It’s been ages since I’d been there. Not since the Night of the Green Butter.

Jamie drove and played The Carpenters to us on the journey. This was to get us into the mood for the Wee Mannies are famed for their dubious taste in music. No Green Butter last night – just lots of lovely food and wine.

The Wee Mannies treated us to their holiday video. This was something of a cut above the usual holiday video. I begged for a copy so that I could put edited excerpts on youtube but permission was denied me. I could make the Wee Manny an internet cult figure in a matter of weeks if given the chance. But Mrs The Wee Manny is canny enough to know this and won’t allow it. So I’ll just have to invest in my own camera when I get some money. Then we’ll see.

The best bit of the video was when it was the Wee’s go. They were having an outing to a butterfly park. For the first five minutes he left the camera cap on. Then he was totally out of focus for the next five. Then he found the zoom and we were dizzy watching it rush in and out. Jamie asked, “Is this how you see the world, Wee?” There was no reply from the Wee’s corner where he was, as is traditional, verbally torturing Swisser. Back on the screen he finally managed to focus on the arses of two young Dutch girls up ahead of him and he follows them doggedly, all the while complaining that he wants to go to the pub.

Back to the present and he’s winding Swisser, trying to get her to come and sit on the sofa, accusing her of being an anti-social lesbian. She’s laughing it off and resisting. He tries moderate force. She resists harder. Suddenly he picks her up. Scary! Because he ain’t sober. But he’s doing fine. Then disaster! He’s on the home straight and down they go. Luckily Swisser lands (head first) on the sofa. Bert says Ploppy Pants tripped the Wee and Ploppy Pants says it was Jenny Wren tripped him. Mrs The Wee Manny says the Wee stumbled because that’s what he does when he’s full. Swisser is shaken and slightly hurt. She has a grazed ear.

I always thought that I’d be mixing with sensible people by the time I was 50.

The Wee Manny is an independently wealthy man of 55 who likes a drink. He buys his clothes in charity shops and works as a skilled labourer. He takes at least three holidays a year.

Swisser is a respected academic and an authority on the relationship between diet and health. She is published in reputable journals and attends up to six international conferences a year. She is 50. She is not a lesbian although she has been known to say that if she was it would make her life a lot easier.

Ploppy Pants is in his mid-fifties. He is a food-faddist and is currently on a special diet. He denies this. He is learning to play the banjo. He hates his job which often involves fixing my car. Bert swears he tripped the Wee Manny.

I wonder if I’d actually like sensible people? To tell you the truth I’m beginning to doubt their existence.

Only A Step To Jesus, Why Don't You Take It Now?

Throughout my working career I have often found myself in situations and places where I would never, of my own free will, have chosen to be.

There was the time myself and two other people took a group of eight special needs people to a dinner dance in Larne. All was going well until Jeannie, an epileptic, took a turn that caused her to fall face-first into her turkey dinner. While our attention was diverted Lucy, who needed to be closely supervised whilst eating, stuffed so much food into her mouth that she started choking and needed the Heimlich manoeuvre employed. Meanwhile, Jeannie recovered, got the gravy and mash washed off her face, and daintily continued to eat her meal. Yet another successful outing where we brought eight out alive and returned them in the same condition.

There have been Christmas parties held by well-meaning church groups where the guest of honour was the minister. With her remarkable talent for identifying VIPs Lisa (Down Syndrome) pulled up her sweatshirt to reveal her Do You Think I’m Sexy? Tee shirt and then treated the reverend to an impromptu lap dance.

What about a two-hour concert given by the African Children’s Choir? Those kids could certainly sing but it was still hymns. Ten minutes of that would have satisfied me.

Oh, I could go on. But I have always consoled myself that I was getting paid, and well-paid, for my attendance at these outings and dos.

But I’d have needed a lot more than the minimum wage to feel better about the service I attended last night. Up rolled the righteous in their Mercedes and Jags and suddenly the place was filled with good-livin’ folk who previously had only been names to me, names usually seen on the frontage of a number of Big Shops in the local area. So it was that I stood on my aching back legs for an hour of hymns and preaching directed at the captive audience contained within the Near At Hand Home for People Filled with Brotherly Love.

There could be no cheerier way to spend an evening than reminding the elderly that their time is rapidly running out.

And all for the minimum wage too.

A Drive To The Coast

Last night the brother, the sister, the sister’s husband, myself, the oldest and the youngest daughters and their fellows had a bit of a night out in Cushendall.

We went to a pub I heard referred to as Johnny Joe’s although I myself met no person there who answered to that name.

It was a great wee place. I think I was in it before many years ago but that was during the day and you cannot really judge a pub by its daytime trade.

There was a bit of a traditional session going on and the main players were what Bert described as, ‘good ol’ boys’. They weren’t that sort of up-their-own-arses crowd that wouldn’t welcome a strange face joining in. The brother done a bit of singing and so did the sister. The brother-in-law did a wee number in his native Irish which seemed to please. Bert said later that he might bring his whistle another time. He was particularly pleased that the banjo player had referred to him as ‘a young fellow from Cullybackey.” Those Cushendall folk don’t be long about finding out where you’re from and the rest of your business.

All in all a very good night - even for the designated driver.

Grab A Granny Night

This evening Bert and I went out for supper at local restaurant Athena’s (attached to the Village Inn) in the company of our old friends Professor and Mrs Ron. After we’d eaten we moved into the bar. The pubs in Cullybackey are not places I’d often be in as they’re a bit clannish but of the two of them the Village Inn would be better. There’s less chance of a row breaking out and I don’t think the regulars would be as interested in your political inclinations/ religious beliefs as the clientele of The Other Bar.

But anyway a pub’s a pub isn’t it? Tends to be full of people with drink taken – drink in, wit’s out, that sort of thing.

Mrs Ron and I were the first to make it into the bar. The Prof was settling the bill and Bert was at the toilet. We entered and sat ourselves down, full of the natural confidence that comes from a good meal, several gins and poised maturity.

Then imagine our feelings when a goofy looking fellow, remarked rudely to the entire bar, “Look lads, it’s Grab A Granny Night!” Well imagine my feelings as Mrs Ron was spared the indignity of hearing the jibe as she is partially deaf. But when I told her she guffawed and so too did the Prof when he heard what Goofy had said. To tell the truth I thought it was mildly amusing too. The only one of us who was really perturbed by the Grab A Granny taunt was Bert. I think it made him feel horribly old being in the company of ladies that were viewed by the rest of the world as grandmotherly.