Cambridge by night

"In which I acquire a new friend and an umbrella"

I met Mark on Myspace - we have mutual friends (live ones, not cyber ones) in Brighton Morris. We had chatted on line a bit about mutual interests - music and training - and then Mark contacted me to say he was coming to Cambridge.

We arranged to meet up one night - originally my husband was going to come too but he was unwell. But it was OK, Mark had also invited another Myspace contact to meet up, and he (Richard) was also a friend of mine.

So, at half past eight on a very rainy Thursday night, I drove into Cambridge for drinks with a man I met on the internet. Chaperoned, of course, by Richard. We met up and moved pubs immediately (The Eagle was heaving, yet two doors up the Bath House had space to sit).

We sat and talked for a couple of hours, easily, comfortably, the three of us discussing music, mutual acquaintances and friends, and training (Mark's current job, a return to training after a five year gap, sounds quite a challenge to say the least). When eventually we got up to leave, we were the only ones left in the pub. The rain was still darkening the pavements of this ancient city, and all I had was my jacket.

The barmaid, hearing our discussion on the rain (Richard was amply prepared and looked not unlike the Old Man of the Sea in his raincoat and hat) offered us left over umbrellas. She gave me a most wonderful rain defender - multicoloured inside, dark on the outside with a soft, solid foam handle. A truly wondrous affair! With appropriate gratitude I accepted, and we made our way out into the dark rainy night.

Richard led the way and we took Mark on a speedy, night-time tour of the city. Up past King's, along Trinity Street, past the Round Church, and then back down to Lion Yard where my two gentlemen companions insisted on accompanying me all the way back to my car. We told Mark various Cambridge stories - describing Hobson's Choice and pointing out the conduit (an underground stream that flows through the city) and pointing out various other interesting quirks of the city. We could, of course, have spent hours wandering the city, but late on a rainy Thursday night, with work the following morning, it wasn't an option this time.

We parted at the car park after a very pleasant evening. What luck that Mark's first training job was a post in Cambridge. Perhaps next time I'm in Brighton, he can show me the sights of that wonderful seaside town. Brighton Pier, perhaps?

Leaving Ireland

"Where the beaches are patrolled by black and white cats"

On my last morning in Ireland, Cathy drove me out to Cranfield, a lovely beach just down the coast from the 'Point. We walked along the empty sand - the lighthouse in the distance out in the slightly misty bay.

It was warm, a thin sun shining in the May sky, and the birds were diving and dancing across the rocks and into the salt-smelling seaweed. We walked, and talked, and picked up rocks (I found a huge stripy one that would fly home with me to join my 'international brigade' around the fish pond). We sat on some rocks and pied wagtails and sparrows hopped along the beach, snatching sandflies and leaving tiny prints.

While we sat talking, the wide empty beach before us, a few people walked past, and all bid us good morning. At one point a woman walked past, 'Come along now!' she called to her pet, and trailing behind her for her morning constitutional, was her (quite large) blakd and white cat. Unusual, to say the least!

It was a calm morning, relaxed and pleasant, an excellent way to spend my last day in Ireland. Later in the afternoon they took me back to the airport. A planned cafe stop misfired as, when we reached it, it was closed. Instead the whole family (Patrick came too - but not Dexter) piled in to the airport for a burger meal. At least I wouldn't have the long wait to depart that I'd had on leaving England.

At last it was time for them to leave me to my airport vigil, and Patrick gave me a big hug goodbye. After our farewells, I walked off towards the departure lounge - but Patrick rushed back to give me one final hug before I left. A wonderful start to my homeward journey.

On the plane it was fairly empty, and the flight seemed very quick indeed. I had a book to read, but I was too tired. The taste of salt air still in my lungs. I do want to live by the sea one day.

Book of Kells - for starters!

"In which we do Dublin"

Saturday morning, bright and (reasonably) early, and went down to a cafe for breakfast. Another fry? Nope - I went for a bacon sandwich and... my.. that pecan slice looks nice...

We caught a train to Dublin from Newry but it was very full. I had to stand for a part of the journey, but even so the trip went quickly. During the troubles going from North to South would mean border guards, passports, train searches maybe - now, the only thing that told me I was over the border was the change in mobile phone service!

We struggled from the station to the hotel, being directed by the friendly natives, then (after a quick drink at the bar and checking in), we hit the town. First stop, the Book of Kells at Trinity College. The exhibition was good, but the books (not just the Book of Kells, but some other ancient manuscripts too) were amazing. The colours so vibrant, the illustrations so detailed. The gold as rich and shining as it must have looked hundreds of years ago.

Continuing on our culture-fest, we then headed for the National Museum of Ireland, the archaeology department. And there - we had a wonderful time looking at dead bodies. Yep! Dead bodies. Not Egyptian mummies, but the peat-bog bodies. The detail was amazing and the colour of the preserved skin, a wonderful, deep leathery looking gold and brown. There was one that was just a torso and some arms... I think Cathy rather fancied a handbag out of that. However, we'd got there late in the afternoon and only saw a very small part of the amazing exhibits on show.

Well, that about summed it up for the culture part of the day. We headed for Temple Bar, walking all round the lively pedestrian centre listening to the tired strains of 'Dirty old town' and the like from competent but tourist-weary musicians. We ended up (after a quick Chinese in the Express restaurant) in a bar by the Liffy. Sitting quietly, just drinking a beer (cider for me, remember?) and then this couple started talking to us as we looked at our map.

Enter Sharon and Pete. Two characters to add to our dramatis personae for the evening. Both English, they were over for a realaxing time after Sharon had done some work in Ireland. We hit it off instantly - and it turned out that we think Sharon's sister bought our house off us about 22 years ago. And, if not off us, off our neighbour. Small world! We also discovered that Pete's brother was the same age as my old man and that they nearly (oh, clutching at straws here) went to the same school in Camden.

Cathy disappered to the 'little girls room' which turned out to be a very little room for girls. Complaining on her return, she said the cubicles were so small you could hardly move your elbows enough to drop your trousers. Pete, however, said the gents loos were 'wonderful'. Pub loos? Wonderful? That was it. Proof was needed. Cathy and Pete headed off to the toilets again. He showed her his, she showed him hers. I think the boys loo won, but not by a lot. I guess men have different standards for what's grand in a pub toilet.

Sharon and Pete mentioned a bar called the Brazen Head - the oldest pub in Ireland (it is claimed). We'd all had a few bevvies, but that was no reason to stop. Sharon had drunk whisky earlier in the day, though she didn't like it. The reason was the Jamieson distillery tour they'd been on. She'd been picked as a taster and had an 'official taster' certificate. Then she mixed it with Baileys... ewwww....

We headed out the bar we'd met in towards the Brazen Head and Pete pointed out the Millennium Bridge, known as the 'Quiver on the River'. It's supposed to wobble. Well, Sharon and Cathy were not keen to traverse it, so Pete and I went across it - jumped up and down and ran from side to side but, alas, it neither wobbled nor quivered. We crossed back over at the next bridge and caught up with the others.

At the Brazen Head we sat outside opposite a table full of English girls on a hen or birthday weekend. All dressed smartly, glitzy even, and with wobbly head dresses on. And guess what? They were too quiet! I'd never seen such a well behaved hen party in my life. The group next to us were much more fun, Bob and his wife, his sister and brother in law, from Ohio. It wasn't long before we were all one huge chattering group. I stopped drinking, the brandy and cider mix was starting to make me feel a little too light headed, so it was on to the diet coke. The others were made of sterner stuff, but I did notice Sharon switching to the cranberry juice. Wonder what else she had in it?

Though Sharon and Pete were ready to party all night, Cathy and I headed back to the hotel about half past midnight. Tired after all our culture, walking, and - perhaps - the beer. We had a twin room and one of us snored. Loudly!

I woke early next morning, and so did Cathy. We headed out for the nearby Writers Museum, but it didn't open until 11. So we walked round the little rememberance park first. Unlike many rememberance parks it didn't have a dedication to the fallen, the sacrifice or the voilence of achieving freedom, but the vision of those who sought it. We wandered round in the morning sunshine. At peace.

The writers museum was interesting. The audio guide made the whole thing far more engaging than just looking at displays and the odd old typewriter. Having had our cultural fix for the morning, we headed back into town but were hungry for more - so we revisited the National Museum of Ireland. We managed to see the Egyptian exhibits this time - including mummies - only the displays were really dark and you could't see the descriptions or what the items were very clearly. The rest of the museum was great though. Some fantastic golden torcs and other stuff from Viking and Roman times.

We noticed the time and instead of walking back to our hotel and then to the station, we had to hail a cab. Back on the train again, past wide open beaches and green countryside, we both had seats this time. Lunch was some rather sad pastry affair from the buffet car and we eventually reached Newry again just after six.

That evening we thought, briefly, about heading out on the town again, but a good night's sleep (sans snoring) was the preferred option instead.

Monday, the following day, was the last chance we'd have to spend a bit of time together before I had to fly back to GB. Some interesting things happened even then, but that's for my next post. Which, at this rate, I might write up within the next fortnight or so...

In Dublin's Fair City....

"We hit the town"

After getting settled in the hotel, we thought we'd take a look at the city and see the sights before coming back to change and go out for the evening. We never made it back to change...

We wandered down the main drag and, with our trusty tourist map in hand, found Trinity College and went in to view the Book of Kells. The display was well set out - enormous reproductions of pages all back-lit with interesting explanations and the history of the book and its contemporaries. When you actually get to see the book itself though, none of the reproductions can really do it justice. The gold and the colours are so vibrant. An incredible piece of history, and an amazing testament to the patience of the scribes (probably four they say) who created it.

We then headed for the National Museum of Ireland - the archaeology department in Kildare Street. Though we only had an hour before closing time, we did get a chance to wander round the main exhibits and in particular the section on the mummified bodies found in the peat bogs. Broth gross and fascinating at the same time, Cathy particularly noticed the amazing colour of the 'leather'. I reckon she fancied a handbag out of one of them. We weren't in there that long and only got to see about half the exhibits. Lunch (yes, it was nearly six) was in order. We found a super little Thai/Chinese style 'express' (read 'Chinese McDonalds) restaurant and ate. A quick beer before going back to the hotel seemed like a good idea too. We found a strange bar on the banks of the Liffy. The bars in the pedestrianised Temple Bar area were all noisy, packed and - to be honest - filled with 18-25 year olds. Our bar, however, was quiet, dingy, and had the smallest toilets you could imagine.

Down South

"In which I return to Northern Ireland and make a foray south of the border too"

A long weekend! A short break planned so I could catch up with my writing buddy, Cathy. I had taken the Friday off work and my pal Shani took me to the airport bright and early (6.30 am) so I could catch the 8.35 to Belfast. Only... they cancelled it. I was, however, lucky enough to get onto the next flight at 11.50. OK... a few hours to kill at the airport. That's enough about that part of my adventure - it was BORING!

When I arrived, Paul and Cathy were there to meet me and the first thing we did was drive to a cafe for an 'Ulster Fry'. Breakfast! (It was nearly 1pm, but it was breakfast.) We headed down to the 'Point and visited Cathy's parents. I'd not met her dad on my previous trip but he was awake and about this time. Marie showed me her latest embroidery, a patchwork of bunnies and hearts.

As the afternoon was pleasant, we headed up the nearest mountain (as you do) which is called Cloughmore. At the summit is a huge stone. This is said to have been thrown by a giant who is on the Mourne mountains on the other side of the estuary (and in fact in Southern Ireland). It was lovely - wonderful woods and below us the ... well, not sure what exactly because, as if on cue (same as my last visit), the mountains were clothed in mist and so was the bay so we couldn't see too much.

We headed for home, and after Pizza and a beer or two (well, actually I drank cider but from hereon 'a beer' means beer for Cathy, cider for me, alright?).

We went out for the evening quite late - 9.30pm - but that was usual. The 'craic' doesn't start early. We went to a small pub in Rostrevor where I'd gone last time with Penni (see A trip to Ireland) and had a good time playing along on my little travel guitar and singing a few songs. They were a warm crowd and we had a few beers (and ciders, remember?). It was Gerry's birthday (the guy who hosted the session) and at the end of the evening they ended with 'Wild Mountain Thyme' - asked to take the last verse, I promptly forgot it! Oh well, we still all sang and had a good time.

Saturday morning, after another cooked breakfast (this time at a small cafe in the 'Point), Cathy's mum took us to the station and we caught the train to Dublin. After only a few miles we were over the border (no passport, no visible border - so different to how it was a few years ago with guards and police and army) and chugging down the coast. We arrived in the city and lugged our bags to the hotel. Stopping to read directions, a passer by instantly asked if he could help and directed us. The hotel was smart, and we had a quick beer in the bar while we waited for the room to be ready (are you detecting a theme here yet? Yes! I had cider, I did say, didn't I?....)

What happened next? Mmmm... I'll save that for the next post I think.

I'm off to Ireland again

A couple of weeks and I will go to Ireland to visit my pals in Warrenpoint. We have a plan - a cunning plan! I arrive, they pick me up, we get to their house, open a beer or two.

We get Chinese takeaway.

We go out, we open a beer or two.

Sometime... the next day... we take a train to Dublin.

We go out. We get Chinese. We open a beer or four. Stumble into hotel.

We wake up (hopefully still in hotel and not on floor of bar) and ... open a beer or two to get rid of headache.

Look round Dublin.

Train back to Warrenpoint. Open a beer or two...

Back to the airport, fly home.

As you can see, a stunning cultural itinerary!

Well - watch this space, see what 'really' happens!