I’m an eejit. You're familiar with the term “eejit” for sure, if not I can reveal that it’s an Irish term meaning idiot. A couple of weeks ago I was in Northern Ireland, part of the Union that makes up the U.K. and also the Republic of Ireland, member of the E.U. The original plan was for myself and two youngest children to fly to Dublin and have a little tour of the Republic, staying four nights, two full days. I began researching and came to the conclusion that Belfast would be a much more interesting proposition. Rather than hang around pubs and battle Stag and Hen parties in Dublin, Belfast from a history perspective would be better and Northern Ireland scenically pretty special. The flights to Dublin were already booked so too late to change, for the record my new itinerary was: Fly Bristol to Dublin (45 minute flight). Pick up hire car Dublin Airport. Drive to Belfast (couple of hours max). Stay Belfast two nights. Drive up the Antrim/Causeway coast to Giants Causeway and stay in Portrush one night. Return to Dublin via Dark Hedges. Stay Dublin one night. Fly home. Anyone who has ever organised a trip will know that you can usually expect something to not quite go to plan. It’s a thankless task and a whole lot of responsibility, my customer base are very critical if inconvenienced in any way whatsoever. That said almost everything was as advertised by Harper Tours, but there’s never any accounting for an eejit in the mix. Get through the first part, it’ll lighten up come the end I promise.
Car parked at airport. Flight from Bristol on time. Arrive Dublin. Did usual battle with Car Hire Company and their break the bank ‘bolt ons’. Gave in, took out a new mortgage. Isn’t it cheaper to just buy a car? Headed up the motorway to Belfast. Children hungry, twenty minutes into drive, stop at motorway services. Judging by some of the clientele I thought I’d walked into a gypsy encampment, it is Ireland after all. Fortunately we ate and I didn’t have to buy any ‘lucky heather’. My theory is that they felt some degree of pity, A: The car hire company had clearly taken all my money. B: Evidently one look at me and there was already a curse in place. I don’t remember a previous lucky heather/curse for not buying said crap incident, I can only assume there must have been. My mum was into all that stuff, clairvoyants, black cats, passing on the stairs, walking under ladders and so forth. I dismiss it as nonsense. All I do know is that my mother went to a clairvoyant/fortune teller once and she told mum that she had two children: “Your daughter will live a great life, sadly your son will always struggle”. There might be an element of truth in that and I often wonder why my mum took the time to tell me! Anyway, we arrived in Belfast, parked and found our hotel. Let’s give a little context to Belfast and Northern Ireland. I’m a child of the 1960’s, teenager in the 1970’s. Belfast and Northern Ireland were constantly in the news, bombing and shootings were a daily event. In the late 70’s and early 80’s I was evacuated from pubs several times due to bomb warnings from the IRA once they began their mainland U.K. campaign. It’s complicated, essentially the republicans want a united Ireland, the loyalists want to remain part of the U.K. and it is of course sectarian. After’partitio’ whereby the U.K government split Ireland into the South and North, there came the rise of paramilitary groups, the Provisional IRA (Republicans, Catholics) and the UDA, UVF (Unionists, Protestants). The British Army were called in to keep the peace and assist the only armed police force in the U.K. the “RUC” or Royal Ulster Constabulary. What followed during “The Troubles” were 3,720 deaths, 47,541 injuries, 36,923 shootings, and 16,209 bombings.
That shot from our bohemian breakfast cafe in Belfast on the morning we left. I’d arranged for a “Black Cab Tour” for our first day. Essentially you’re taken to all the no-go areas, Shankill Road (Loyalist/Protestant) and the Falls Road (Republican/Catholic) in a London Cab. Once upon a time those cabs would cruise the Falls Road, pick up passengers, torture or kill them, “The Black Cab Butchers”. You can look all this up if you wish. Anyway, some of those days are long gone, our driver, Billy, was fantastic. We got two hours of fascinating and very funny commentary, his knowledge encyclopaedic. Bang on time he met us outside Belfast City Hall, a quick tour around the city centre where he revealed Belfast invented just about everything, including air conditioning. We arrived in the Shankill Road area (Loyalist/protestant). All of these places are working class, possibly described as deprived. The first house we drove past had a huge inflatable Gorilla and fairy lights in the front garden. Then we got to the endless murals, sides of houses depicting men in balaclavas and AK47’s. Union Jacks (flags) everywhere. Let me try to explain the level we’re at here…After “Bloody Sunday” happened, you could google it, a Civil Rights march by the Republicans/Catholics ended in many killed after being shot with live ammo by a few members of the Parachute Regiment (British Army). A shocking day, needless loss of life. On TV at the time a reporter asked about “Bloody Sunday” to passersby on the Shankill Road: “You mean Good Sunday, they should have shot more”. That’s the level of resentment. They were flying Union Jacks along with Parachute Regiment flags on the lampposts! Next to the Falls Road (Republican/Catholic). First house we saw had a giant statue of The Virgin Mary in the front garden along with crucifix’s... “remember the gorilla? that’s the difference between the Protestants and Catholics” joked Billy. Here we have more murals from the Provo’s (IRA). More men in balaclavas holding AK47’s. Home rule. Fight England essentially, they are Irelands enemy was the message. The Irish tricolour flying everywhere. The paramilitaries are drug gangs nowadays, a new way to raise money for “the cause”, same resulting deaths. I know what you’re thinking; Where are the photo’s John? That’s a good point well made, we’re getting there. Amélie announced that she wasn’t taking any photos, she’d leave it to me. And so we visited the Crumlin Road Jail and the Peace Wall where we signed our names and left a message. I could cry at the losses on both sides. We discussed whether it was safe there now. “I wouldn’t be walking into a pub at night with an English accent” warned Billy. You can still see the metal cages in front of pubs to prevent someone opening the door and throwing a grenade in, or walking in and shooting the place up. There’s a very tall fence, above house height dividing some areas, rocks are still thrown over. A T.V. reporter Billy was having an interview with asked as I did ‘Is it safe?”. “Of course” he replied. With that a brick came over the fence hit her straight in the head and she had to go to hospital. I can tell you plenty of stories from people I know that have been to Belfast and drinking in a pub being asked “You’re a long way from home son?” and then silently stared at until being told to “drink up and get out”. This is in recent times. Myself, Amélie and Louis had no such problems. I found everyone to be wonderfully friendly. Belfast is a fabulous city. We visited the Titanic Museum, where Billy dropped us after our tour: “Irish craftsmen built the Titanic, an Irish crew took her through her paces and ensured she was certified to sail”. Then he added “We can’t take the blame for an English Captain”. Let’s hit the Antrim coastal road to Giants Causeway. Oh, wait. I took some brilliant shots, some of the best ever. All those murals, I walked a little around the Shankill and Falls Road, did a quick bit of Street Photography. I took photos of the Peace Wall, Billy took one of us altogether. In the Titanic Museum I decided to delete a photo I’d just taken, I never delete photos in the camera. Only ever once they’re uploaded from the SD card onto the computer. I’m not used to doing it and so went into autopilot and formatted the card losing everything I had. “Eejit”. That’s putting it mildly. Man was I annoyed. Hence you’ve had to put up with my words up until now. A picture paints a thousand words right? I can only apologise!
We’re on the coastal road now on our way to Giants Causeway. Beautiful scenery, breathtaking in fact. We stopped at a small fishing village to buy a sandwich, Louis sat by the harbour above. Irish flags everywhere driving in, the orange a light faded yellow. People looked and stared when we spoke. It was slightly intimidating. Amélie googled all the various flags and meanings, essentially they were saying ‘This is a Catholic area, protestants are not welcome”. Now, I’m not either of those nor remotely religious, but the English accent might make people presume I’m a proddie, Church of England and therefore not Catholic. Anyway, I purposely took my time eating my sandwich. We passed schools on the way up to Giants Causeway that stated “Integrated”, a child could go if they were Catholic or Protestant. How bloody ridiculous, bringing children into the whole thing and where else would you see that in the world. The whole situation is crazy. Meanwhile I have it on good authority that in the pubs of the Irish Republic proceedings would stop during the night and it would be announced that there’d be a bucket passed around, we’d call it a ‘whip-round’, for donations to the IRA and “the cause”. Meanwhile Protestant social clubs in the North would play the British National Anthem at the end of an evening, you’d be in big trouble if you didn’t respect it and stand. “We’re more British than you are” I was told. Thank god, if there was one, that peace rules now in Northern Ireland. There’s still a nit of an edge to the place in my opinion, but hopefully as the next generations come along it will fade into history. On to Giants Causeway.
Park up and get some sea air as you walk down the path to see Led Zeppelin’s album cover “Houses of the Holy”. There you’ll find 40,000 basalt columns which you can walk over with 40,000 tourists. Okay, it wasn’t that busy. A bit slippy in places and there are National Trust “Wardens” shouting at people don’t go that way, go this way. Typical of the National Trust, they treat people like they’re eejits. No one is allowed to use common sense, it’s all rules and regulations with that bloody organisation whenever you visit one of their properties. In other news…I nearly slipped up! If you’re not familiar, that album cover was photographed and designed by the legendary album art design studio Hipgnosis. Google them and the album cover perhaps. I briefly thought about asking the children to crawl up the rocks or those pesky Wardens! You’ve seen Louis in the opening shot in this blogpost, they warned that the sea was getting rough. I like that photo and the one above. Here’s a few more. You can click on any in that grid.
Time to trudge back to the car. One last photo. I’m clearly having issues over this trip. Slightly out of focus, but then that’s a big plus compared with deleting them all.
Onwards to Portrush for the night. I rented an apartment which was part of an old bank. Louis had a meltdown because the Wifi wasn’t working. I see that as a positive thing. We got it sorted out eventually with the restaurant at the front of the building an had an excellent dinner. Actually really great. As the wifi wasn’t on I suggested we talk instead as we ate our meal, generally I’m making all the conversation, but as we know from previous blogs I’ve got problem with the whole endless talking thing. My friend Kev isn’t deiced on what that is yet, there’s definitely a problem with me he admits, but he’ll carry on searching for the answer! I offered the prompts: What did you like about your self? What do you dislike about yourself? And now people in your family. Holy cow there was laughter, but a lot more tears, a whole can of worms opened. I was praying for the Wifi to come back on at the end. Turns out that I’m absolutely perfect (despite what others and I think) by the way. All was not lost, Louis discovered there was an Amusement Arcade nearby, they love that stuff. Penny Cascades, where you keep sliding in pennies, they pile up and the slider goes back and forth until eventually they tip over the edge tip out. Reminded me of Vegas, accept the sliders/dealers never seem to tip anything out. Anyway, next morning some breakfast and a walk along the seafront at Portrush.
Time to head back to Dublin, we’d be passing Dark Hedges just 10 miles from Portrush which featured in “The Game of Thrones”. I’d say that if you wanted to get a National Geographic type shot you’d need to be there at sunrise, we arrived mid-morning. Not many people about, but that all important light has gone. If I was a “proper” photographer I’d have been there earlier. Of course I’m not, deleting all my Belfast photos tells you all you need to know about that. It’s one of those situations where it looks really impressive from a distance, every footstep closer the effect has gone. You know, the impressionist effect, when you see someone really attractive and as you get closer all you can see are all the brush strokes.
Off we set, Dublin bound. Turns out it’s the traffic jam capital. Took forever to get in to the city, we found a parking spot that required a further advance on my mortgage. It was a brief visit and Amélie was very keen to visit Trinity College. She loves anything that’s educationally based and her dream is to study at Oxford or Cambridge. Thankfully she grew out of her aim to be accepted to Hogwarts. We arrived and debated whether we wanted to see the ‘Book of Kells” which allows you into the library and to see the book written over 1,200 years ago. Yes from Amélie, no from Louis, not sure how much that costs from me. Our minds were made up as the heavens opened, €60 ended up being almost a bargain to escape torrential rain. Ireland is green for a reason. In we went. Amélie beyond excited, Louis dead for all intent and purposes, I tried to teach acceptance.
We looked around the library which was very impressive. Amélie studied every inch of it. Louis liked the harp, used as the insignia of Ireland from the late middle ages, but really that’s about it. We entered the area that allows you to view the book written in 800AD. “NO PHOTOGRAPHY” the sign read. I think I might have accidentally pressed the shutter. Man, the guards were absolutely livid. I wouldn’t mind, but I didn’t even want to take a shot of the book. Also, what damage is my camera shutter opening for 1/1000 of a second going to do to it in any case? Amélie dragged it out for five minutes looking at the monks illustrations in depth, meanwhile I told everyone how great the “Magna Carta” was, which they could see in Salisbury, England. We were ushered into one of those projection rooms whereby they tell you all about the Book of Kells. Some monks wrote it in England and fled the Vikings to save the book. The Vikings gave chase, but lost them in the Irish sea, the monks and book reached safety in Ireland. This is the point I announced to everyone assembled that it was a pity the Vikings didn’t catch them, would have saved me €60. Talk about going down like a lead balloon.
Amélie loved it all and that makes me happy. We walked down O’Connell Street where there were shops which Amélie also loves and didn’t make me happy. Purchases were made. I detoured up a side road and found a pub. Not one with “traditional Irish music”, I’m not a fan. A pint of Guinness was needed. The children had soft drinks. I asked for a some bags of plain, just salted crisps (chips). In a traditional Irish accent the barman said “You’re on the wrong side of the water, Ireland only have flavoured crisps and everything else, plain doesn’t exist. Here’s some packets of King’s Cheese and Onion”. The best crisps I‘ve ever had in my life, the Irish know their potatoes to be sure, top of the morning and all that. The Guinness was heavenly. And there you have it, we’ll wrap it up here. A photo by me in the pub and one from Amélie to end. Or, one from an eejit and one from someone who actually knows what she’s doing…I’ll add that it was Halloween, those aren’t my cobwebs, I meant to look scared not terrifying to others. I’m much more like a Greek God in the flesh, just saying.
Thank you for taking the time to read my blog. All images can be opened by clicking on the thumbnails. Not that it matters they were made using a Leica M with a Summicron 28mm lens fitted. Except Amélie’s far superior shot made with an iPhone. I used an Apple keyboard to type it all out.
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