Rock Stars

The 12th July is a day in N. Ireland when it's best not to be in N. Ireland. That was my thinking at least and so my plan for us was to drive to Ballycastle on the north coast and take the ferry to Rathlin Island.

This 4 mile by 2.5 mile boomerang shaped island lies 6 miles from Ballycastle and only 15 miles from Scotland. Claims to fame include the cave where Robert The Bruce (Robert 1 of Scotland) had his close encounter with that determined spider and the island, or at least close to it, is where Richard Branson came down after his record breaking balloon flight from Maine.

As well as that, a few days earlier, on 6th July, they celebrated the 113th anniversary of the world's first wireless telegraphy link between Ballycastle and the East lighthouse on Rathlin Island.

I'm sure most of the current 100 inhabitants were suitably excited and probably texted and tweeted their messages of pride to that same world. Marconi may have got HIS message across in 1898 but blowed if I could get 3G there in 2011 ! Progress ?

Anyway enough of such facts and figures and back to us. The plan, remember the plan, was to get parked early and be on our way to the island long before the town ground to a halt traffic wise as thousands poured in to take part in, and watch, the 12th July parades. So we had booked the 11:15am ferry crossing and getting there early we had time for some breakfast before getting to the harbour. Inside the terminal building was a slightly disturbing poster............

We ticked the 'tourist' option and a few minutes later, we were boarding the small passenger only ferry to the island. This ferry would make the crossing in 25 minutes compared to 45 minutes for the larger one that took a few cars too.

When I mentioned some of the island's claims to fame earlier, I deliberately didn't mention its nature reserve. I will now.

Rathlin Island has a nature reserve.....with lots of birds.

Mind you, as we discovered when we went there, that's a bit like saying Bill Gates has a few bob.

But first of all we had to get there as the nature reserve, or bird colony, was way out at the end of the 4 mile leg of the boomerang. To take us along the tortuous off road track up to the viewing location owned and run by the RSPB (Royal Society for the Protection of Birds) we had Bert. Luckily for us, despite the name of his bus, he took fee paying humans too.

I'm not sure how long the drive lasted but much longer and my back would've needed traction. Bert, however, was a joy to listen to or at least he would've been if the bus had had less puffins on board and more speakers for his PA system. Actually a PA system would've been nice. Still, Bert did his best to shout out the points of interest as we lurched and bumped along the road (ha !!) to the island's end.

45 minutes or so later, the bus stopped at the RSPB building and we then descended down a flight of very steep steps followed by a steep path to the observation deck. A long way below us were the birds and what a lot of them there were. Thousands. Tens of thousands. But very far away even for my zoom lens.

Thankfully we had our binoculars but even so, it wasn't as 'good' as I'd hoped it would be. I wanted 'up close' but got 'far away'.

But the RSPB had thought of that and along the viewing deck were 4 or 5 high powered telescopes on tripods which were free to use by the visitors. They REALLY got us close to the birds as they sat on the rocks, nested on the cliff faces and best of all, came in to land. With a bit of trial and error, it was possible to position the camera up to the telescope and get awesome pictures.

The noise, and smell, was incredible. After a while we'd seen enough of the common guillemots, kittiwakes, puffins, razorbills and about 25 other families of birds on show and headed back up to get the bus back to the harbour.

We had booked the 15:30 return ferry but the setup allows anyone to get any return ferry as long as there are places and so we got there in time for the 15:00 crossing and made it on board.

Back in Ballycastle we disembarked after a very enjoyable trip.

There's always one isn't there ? Always someone who thinks its funny to get themselves into a photo. In his defence however, I had asked Stephen and Daphne to stop a second so I could take this photo and I guess the guy behind had nowhere to go.

He didn't have to be so happy about it though !

Right, I think this is enough for one blog post and as there is much more to relate about that 4th day, I'll save it for another post.

To be continued........

Beaches, Bridges and Beeches.

Before moving on with Day 3, I wanna go back to the previous evening when we got back from Carnlough and had supper in Magherafelt. We picked one of the Chinese restaurants in the town, the Imperial Palace, and I was immediately impressed with the accents of the staff.....every one a true Norn Irisher ! When our food arrived, I asked the server if all the staff were from Northern Ireland and were none Chinese and she said "oh yes, there's John."

We never did get to meet 'Chinese John' but the story kept us amused for the rest of the trip !

Right, on with Day 3.

It was time to start at the very beginning of the Causeway Coastal Road, or the end depending on your point of view, and make for the A2 over near Londonderry. We drove the 41 miles north to Benone Beach and on the way we found out that, although we might not come upon normal traffic jams in Norn Iron, there were other ways to be brought to a complete stop.

They even left their mark on the side of the car ! Nothing permanent and a good spell of rain got rid of it.

Once we got to Benone, it was just like I'd seen on Google Street View and so we were able to drive right out onto an almost deserted beach. The weather was improving by the minute and just in time too.

It was weird seeing cars on a beach in this country but there they were, splashing through the water like metallic youngsters without a care in the world. I hope their owners think the same when the salt corrosion takes hold...or hits the fan, so to speak.

How about a caption competition ? What's going on here then ? Answers in the comments section please !

So we loved Benone Beach. It was vast, clean, pretty much empty and how often can you stand on a beach and look at a waterfall ??

Time to move on and we got back onto the A2 heading eastwards. Passing through Coleraine we came to the twin seaside towns of Portstewart and Portrush. These were towns I'd been taken to many times as a child as they were just a few miles from my home town, Ballymoney, and we'd walk along the promenades or on overcast days, we'd sit in the car, have ice creams and people watch.

First up was Portstewart which didn't have much of a beach along the front but it did have Morelli's, probably the most famous ice cream shop in the whole of the country. It was celebrating being in business for 100 years and these days it sells full meals and not just ice cream. But the speciality cold goodies sure looked tempting.

After lunch there, we headed around yet another sweeping bay on the A2 to Portrush and went past the golf club that would become world famous a few days later when local man Darren Clarke would win the British Open. Good lad.

We drove down to sea level to go onto White Rocks Beach, yet another blue flag beach along the Causeway Coast.

This next photo was taken out the windscreen of the car and I think it is a good example of what you see along just about every mile of the Causeway Coast.

Before we reached our next destination, we pulled off at one of the many excellent scenic overlooks for a few minutes and it was a case of stunning views everywhere and just to prove I was there, I'm including a scary one of me too. It's not so much that my left boob is sagging but that my cell phone was in the pocket of the polo shirt. Oh and that other ruin, the one in the 2nd photo, is Dunluce Castle.

A few miles further on, we came to the road down to Carrick-a-Rede rope bridge, one of the top tourist draws in Norn Iron. Actually when I say the road down to it, I really mean the road to the car park near it, as once you park up and take the very short walk to the National Trust ticket booth, you still have a 1km walk to the rope bridge.....and although it's very scenic, it's not a gentle walk either.

Over the last 350 years, there has been a rope bridge in some form or other between the mainland and the small island of Carrick, a span of 20 metres and a height of 30 metres above the swirling waters and jagged rocks below. This bridge would allow local fishermen to cross over to the rich salmon waters where, in the 60's, they could catch 300 salmon a day. Back in the day, the bridge was just a rickety wooden affair with a single rope handrail but as more and more tourists came to make the crossing and the salmon left the area, newer and more sturdy bridges were constructed. No one has ever fallen from any of these bridges and with Health & Safety in charge now, you'd have to be pretty agile to get over the supports to even jump off the current bridge.

Great kudos must go to Stephen as he is afraid of heights and not only made the crossing, but made the trip back. Not everyone who arrives at the bridge does that and some have even had to be 'rescued' by boat from the island when the return trip was just a crossing too far....and too high.

Back up on the road, our tired bodies needed a rest and just 1 mile along the A2 from Carrick-a-Rede we came to the beautiful little harbour of Ballintoy. It was only 7pm so much too early for sunset which would've been a wonderful sight there but we still took the opportunity to park up and stroll along the harbour walls and relax in the picture postcard views all around us.

It was time to return to our base in Magherafelt after a wonderful day of touring but if you remember a few posts ago I mentioned that Sheila, our trusty (mostly) GPS, would take us along narrow rural roads in an effort to get us to our destinations by the shortest route. Thus it was that we suddenly came upon a little known and even less frequented road that contained The Dark Hedges. I'd seen photos of this stretch of road in a tourist book I'd picked up in Benone and despite it being close to my home town of Ballymoney, I'd never even heard of it. And the book hadn't said exactly where it was.

So imagine my surprise and utter delight when we literally turned a corner and there before us stretched the amazing row of old beech trees forming an arboreal archway for several hundred metres. Now trees forming an archway are not rare but these trees were almost leafless and with their grey colouring, created a very spooky archway indeed. I only had time to take a photo out through the windscreen so I've not captured the real Dark Hedges but I'm sure an hour or so later, after sunset, the eerie scene would've been much more impressive.

In order to recreate this view, I've altered the photo to black and white. Not great but I think you can imagine how it would be walking along this part of the road at midnight ! Rather you than me.

And when we retuned to Magherafelt at about 9pm, there was just time to watch a movie and get off to bed.

What a day.

To be continued........

Thanks For The Memories

In any list of the best scenic coastal routes in the world, the A2 around North Antrim in Northern Ireland would have to feature near the top. It runs for only 126 miles from Belfast to Londonderry but unlike many scenic routes which are much longer, it has stunning scenery for almost every one of those 126 miles.

Over the course of the 7 full days we spent touring this part of Northern Ireland last week, we drove along 111 of those miles and despite my familiarity with most of them from years living there, I was still in awe seeing the changing vistas we came upon in so small an area. From almost empty sweeping beaches to lush green forests, fast flowing rivers to cascading waterfalls, soaring mountains to sweeping glens, the A2 took us along on a breathtaking ride past them all.

Before leaving Leeds I had entered several 'not to be missed' locations into my TomTom GPS (called Sheila) and my idea was that, using Magherafelt as our base, we would head off every day and taking in some sights on the way up to the A2, join it at different points along its length to create 'wedges' of daily touring. This turned out to be an even better idea than I'd hoped for because due to Sheila being pre-programmed to take us on the shortest rather than the fastest routes to these locations, we went along delightful minor roads I'd never been on in my life. In fact, by accident, this led us to a location we'd heard about on our travels but couldn't find on any map - but more about that another day.

Last Sunday, 10th July, started off dull and overcast. My initial plan had been to make for the westernmost part of the A2 without actually going to Londonderry as being a city, we had no wish to go there. But I wanted better weather for all stretches of the A2 and so as the outlook didn't look good, I decided to make for my old home town of Ballymoney and take it from there.

First stop was Margaret Avenue. My parents lived there all their married lives and spending the first 18 years of my life there, it was my only home in N.I. My last visit had been in 2003 when my mum died and a few weeks later, the house got new inhabitants for the first time in over 50 years. It was very poignant driving up that road again, knowing it wasn't my home anymore. Not much had changed; the grab rail that mum needed in later life outside the front door was still there; the front garden that had mostly been changed to concrete and stones when mum couldn't cope with anything more was just the same. I guess the new owners have been happy with external things as they were. I liked that.

I'd forgotten that most stores still close on a Sunday in N.I. and so Ballymoney was a bit of a ghost town that day. We drove through it but didn't stop.

I wanted to show Daphne & Stephen my 'ancestral' home which was a farm just outside the village of Dervock, 4 miles from Ballymoney and so we took the road I'd been on almost weekly for 18 years when we'd go as a family to see 'granny' and my uncles, aunts and cousins who filled the large farm house most weekends.

I knew the farm house and the outbuildings had fallen into disrepair since ownership had passed to the oldest son who then moved to England but I wasn't prepared for just how fallen !

It was sad to see it like that but we still walked around and it sure brought back memories.

Then we drove on to the coastal town of Ballycastle and as the weather hadn't improved much, we found a nice cafe for lunch. Oh and we were hungry too.

The menu was typical of the locale and once again we were able to have potato cakes/potato bread/tattie scones. Actually the 'all day fry' for £3.99/$6.35 was incredible value.

Full of stomach and not too light of pocket, we walked down to the beach. Ballycastle hasn't much of a beach and that, combined with the weather, meant we just about doubled the people on it.

On the way back to the car, I saw a store sign that brought back memories. Back in the day, we all went as a family to the annual Auld Lammas Fair in Ballycastle. I have memories of eating yellow man and dulse.

Oh just read the article !

I know. Sausages made from pork and red seaweed. I think I'd like it between two slices of tattie scones !

Anyway although we were now leaving Ballycastle on the A2, I'd programmed Sheila to take us to Fair Head which meant turning off the road onto an even more scenic (and very very steep) road up to a high point which gave stunning views back down to the coast. We had to park and walk up a hill to get these views and I for one wished I'd not had that all day fry earlier.

Back down on the road, we came upon a scene we'd often talked about but never expected to see. The road to Fair Head was narrow and only one track in places. Like when we'd been on similar roads in the Lake District recently, we talked about hoping we'd never come upon an RV coming the other way. I mean what idiot would drive an RV along the road to Fair Head ?

If you look closely you'll understand. Oui, it was a French idiot. Sacre bleu.

Having slowly and carefully squeezed past this Gallic plunker and exchanged our DNA, we drove back down past the delightful town of Cushendun which like many of the towns along the Coastal Causeway, was located on a sweeping bay.

Merging back onto the A2, we headed on around the coast road, past the entrance to my old school and on to the small town of Carnlough.

Now to say that Daphne fell in love with Carnlough would be putting it mildly and before we left Norn Iron we'd been to it at least 4 times. I think it really came down to this harbour entrance view........

I took this same view every time we revisited Carnlough and I may put up another one taken on a better weather day. Here's another view of the harbour.

We had tea and scones at the nearby Harbour Lights which overlooked the colourful boats in the harbour. Then we walked along the promenade and I tried to take some different views of a well photographed location.

I liked this next shot as it reminded me of the end scenes in "The Truman Show" but I couldn't explain this to Daphne as she'd never seen the movie so I'll add it to her list for one of our Friday nights of a Chinese and a movie.

By then it was almost 7pm and we needed to get back to Magherafelt for supper. This was an hour's drive inland so we left the A2 for the day but would be back to it the next day - the start of it (or the end of it) in fact, over to the west near Londonderry.

To be continued.........

Norn Iron - The Going Back Home Trip

Yes I'm back and after a 9 day trip to and from Northern Ireland where we clocked up 1340 miles, I'm having a good rest today as it seems to me that we walked most of those miles ! Along beaches, across bridges, up slopes, through forests we racked up the walking miles and my legs are a bit rubbery at the moment so blogging will be a good opportunity to sit down and give my pins a well deserved rest.

We left Leeds at 8am on Sat 9th for the 220 mile drive up to Stranraer in Scotland to catch the 14:30 ferry across to Belfast. I've made that journey so many times over the last 40 years that I could do it with my eyes closed so as a result, Stephen drove !

Being a passenger for the first time ever, I was finally able to fulfil a dream. I was able to photograph the Welcome To Scotland sign on the M6. I'd tried it several times as a driver but as you can imagine, the results were never worth keeping. Actually I almost messed it up this time too as they'd erected a new one since my last trip and it took me by surprise as I thought from a distance it was some sort of roadworks sign being that it was big, bold and very blue.

We stopped for a meal in Castle Douglas, one of the small towns along the Scottish leg of the route that are now bypassed by the A75 and have probably suffered business losses as a result. We chose The Mad Hatter and this menu photo shows the distinctly local flavour of the items......

Even I wasn't sure about the 'tattie scones' but Daphne said it was probably their name for potato cakes or potato bread, also known as fadge in parts of Northern Ireland. Never known a food item have so many names ! Anyway it was as she said and it was delicious.

Then it was back on the road and what a lovely road it was that day. The sun was out, there were few cars about and we sped along in fine style.

We reached Stranraer with over an hour to spare before boarding and I just had time to take a photo of Daphne and Stephen outside the ferry terminal before we were called back to our cars.

Boarding was quick and easy and as we made our way towards the HSS, the high speed ferry that would take us to Belfast in 2hrs instead of the usual 4hrs, I wished it had been around when I was going back and forth, back in the day. On a rough crossing, those long hours were miserable.

So smooth was our crossing that I never even realised the ferry had left the port. We found seats by the windows and, more importantly, by some power points as our phones needed recharging. It was fun to send messages and load photos to Facebook and Twitter while crossing the Irish Sea. There wasn't wifi but the 3G signal was good enough.

In no time we were docking in Belfast........

.....and 45 minutes later we were at my cousin's house in Magherafelt where we were staying for the week as they had left a few hours earlier to spend a week in Southern Ireland.

After settling in and freshening up, we walked into the town and had a meal at the excellent Sizzlers restaurant. Back 'home' and after such a long day we were all pretty tired and wanted to be right for the morning so we went off to bed by 10pm !

More to come.......beaches, waterfalls, harbours, a forest, a parade, an island and a load of world famous stones. Oh and the home course of the newly crowned British Open Golf Champion.

Road Trip

I'm off to the land of my birth on Saturday and before you say it, no I don't mean Heaven. Even though I am a little angel !

I was born in the small town of Ballymoney in Northern Ireland, forever more known here as Norn Iron as that is how it's pronounced by the locals. Ok the locals who live anywhere near Belfast but I'm not getting into dialects and accents in this post. I don't need the stress !

Back in the day (hurrah got it in early) I hated life in Norn Iron. As I've said ad nauseam in previous posts, that was mostly down to hating life at boarding school there as I did love the countryside itself. It really is a stunningly beautiful part of the world, on a good weather day, and I hope to post a few piccies to prove that over the next 2 weeks or so. Internet access might be a bit hit and miss so long posts may have to wait until I get home mid month.

My parents lived in the same house in Ballymoney from about 1950 till death suggested they move out, my dad in 1986 and my mum in 2003. When I left after her funeral, I said I'd never be back and until this coming Saturday, I haven't.

So why now ?

Well my summer touring friends, Daphne and Stephen, said they'd never visited the Provence and so I thought it would be a cool idea to show it off to them. Like I said, it IS a beautiful place if you know where to go and hopefully I know where to go. Sadly I didn't think too much about WHEN to go as next week is 'Parade Week' over there when century's old religious divides are remembered and celebrated and so get handed down to new generations. As usual this evokes resentment at best and outright violence at worst and until these parades are banished forever, my home country will always be torn apart by sectarianism - something it doesn't deserve and should not have to endure.

So next week, and on 12th July in particular, we'll have to be careful to get out into the countryside, well away from these ridiculous parades. Oh I know they can look colourful and fun with big drums being beaten and flutes being blown but the underlying reason for them too often rises to the surface and then all hell breaks loose. The violence has started already and I hope this year's parades don't make the news for all the wrong reasons. Sadly I think they will.

Nevertheless we're going over to see more natural and therefore more pleasing sights. Despite its size, Norn Iron has more award winning beaches per mile than anywhere else in the world.

I admit I just made that up. I've spent too long in America I guess !

But it does have mile after mile of pristine sand and what makes these beaches so special is that for the most part, you can have them to yourself. Even in mid summer. Yes it's THAT cold !

No seriously they just seem to be undiscovered treasures. In some cases you can even drive right down onto the hard packed sand and up to the water's edge if you, and your car insurance company, don't mind. Daytona Beach isn't unique y'know.

Here is an example - Benone Beach - and if you move around 360 degrees, you won't even see a Waldo building a sandcastle.

View Larger Map

For the last couple of days I've been putting scenic locations into my GPS, not because I'm not sure where they are, but more to know the best way to get to them if we go somewhere new first. I mean having lived there for my first 18 years, I could get to these places ok but it's always good to know the best way. Of course with my local knowledge, the fastest way might not be the BEST way so I'll probably have to over-ride the GPS a few times.

The Causeway Coastal Road will feature heavily on this trip and I know from experience that this is a relatively short route (120 miles) that can take days to fully enjoy. The drive will be full of stops and starts when we pull over to look at the many scenic views. For many of the miles, the road hugs the shores of the Irish sea - in places so "huggy" that you could skim a stone from your car.

The route takes you to colourful fishing villages with picture postcard harbours; through deep dark forests that hide their natural treasures from casual view; over mountains and down through stunning glens with many waterfalls within walking distance; past crumbling but still majestic castles standing guard ready to repel foreign invaders; to world heritage destinations like the Giant's Causeway and yes, even to my old and much loathed boarding school, Garron Tower, just to the right of the No.10 on that link above.

I may have hated my time there but there is no denying its awesome location, perched 200 feet up a cliff overlooking the sea. And it can look pretty too !

Click on some of the numbered links on that map to get some idea of why the drive could and will take up most of the week we have over there. If we get good weather, and sadly it's not looking good right now, it should be a grand tour indeed.

And this is what just one beach CAN look like on a good day. Taken in 2002.

It'll be quite emotional going to my parents house in Ballymoney. It was a pretty little council house back then but now it's privately owned. Still worth a drive by viewing though as it was my house, on my street, in my town. Those memories last a lifetime.

I have to admit I'm getting quite excited.

Age Has Its Benefits. Really ?

Well birthdays come and birthdays go and mine went yesterday. I'm 59 now.

Actually maybe I'm 60. It's not that my birth certificate was lost or anything and so I'm just guessing. No, it's more that, as a kind friend reminded me yesterday, having been born on 25th June 1952, I've already SPENT 59 years on this earth and so to be absolutely accurate, I'm now in my 60th year.

But I'm not having it. No, no, no.

When the big six-o sneaks up and slaps me in the face with a wet kipper, I want it to be a bit more memorable than with me sitting watching Bridget Jones's Diary on ITV. As it happens it was on but I didn't watch it. I felt it hit too close to home and certainly NOT birthday watching !

60. OMG.....60. I'm not sure how that will affect me. 40 didn't. 50 didn't. So maybe 60 won't either. But I think it will. It's sooooooo freaking old !

And I won't even get a free bus pass to ease the shock. Currently my date for one of those is 6th September 2014 as that's when a woman of my age can get a state pension.

Don't ask ! This country is messed up.

Anyway I've got a year yet as no matter what the real truth may be, convention decrees that I can put 59 down on forms for my age. I'm not even too happy about THAT but as I'm not a Hollywood actress from back in the day (have to get that in on every blog you know) when they lied about their age, then it's a fair cop. I'm 59.

Grrrrrrrr.

My middle age spread has settled in like a cockroach in a Chinese takeaway and shows no signs of leaving any time soon. I'd been told, on good authority by a guy in a bar, that if you sit watching tv for 16 hrs a day and get a good 8 hrs sleep, then the flab just drops off.

I suspect he wasn't being perfectly truthful. What is the world coming to ?

As my girth has increased, my hair has gone the other way. Actually when I decided to shave off my long held beard and moustache a few months ago, my head looked like a bowling ball. But just as hair was abandoning my head, it was appearing on other parts of my body.

What's THAT all about ?

And I don't even like liver, so why have I got its spots ? Speaking of skin, I need to remember not to pinch myself when I do reach 60 or that pinch may still be there the next day.

Then there is the attitude. Positive thinking has come up against physical deterioration and been found wanting. Back in the day (love it) I'd be vaulting over fences and gates and dropping 15 feet out of recently climbed trees. Then came the time when I'd slowly ease myself over those same fences and gates and need a hand getting down from those trees. Now I don't go over fences, I open gates and a tree is something to admire from a distance.

My armchair raises my legs electrically. My car takes me to the local shops. My remotes allow me to enjoy my tv and music from said chair. And my mail order Filipina girl takes care of everything else.

Ok one of those isn't true.

I don't have any local shops.

But despite all the doom and gloom of advancing years, I'm still retired and until death comes to tell me to slow down, then for me, retirement rocks.

Great name for a blog.

Dear Diary.............

I meant to do this blog post a few days ago on the 41st anniversary of the diary page in question but for one thing I was in The Lake District (see previous post) and for another, the 41 year gap was just soooooo depressing.

Let me set the scene : the year was 1970 and the date was Thursday 18th June. Two days earlier I'd left boarding school for the last time and I was now going to go to England to take up a 'maybe' summer job offer from United Biscuits. It would my first time out of Ireland and my first plane flight. I would be on my own and I was going to London with no firm job, no place to stay and not knowing a single soul there.

Ahhhh the impetuosity of youth. I was 17.

Here is my diary entry for that day..........

Today was certainly one to remember. Got up at 6am and set off for the airport. Arrived 40 mins early so Mum & Dad left for home. I boarded the plane with apprehensions and got a seat beside a window and just behind the wing. I'd have enjoyed the flight but my ears were sore and I was scared every time the noise of the engines changed. It was raining when we left but sunny above the clouds and also when we landed exactly 75 minutes later.

London airport is enormous and it took me 1/2hr just to get out. By using 2 buses I reached Isleworth (pronounced eyes-il-worth and not isle-worth) and leaving my bags in a shop, proceeded to look for digs. I spent from 10am to 4pm looking. I just couldn't find anywhere. Very bad district and most houses have only 2 rooms. I went to the factory but they were very officious and said to come back tomorrow. I even tried the Parochial House to see if they could get me somewhere to stay but no luck.

Finally the man in the shop telephoned me and I got a boarding house at 64 The Grove ( doesn't exist anymore ) but the only room was a large 3 bedder at 30/- bed and breakfast. I hope some arrangement can be made later if a smaller room becomes available. I settled in gratefully and then for 6/- return, I went to Waterloo Station by train. I went across Westminster Bridge, saw Big Ben etc and then went to Trafalgar Square to see lots of TV cameras and 2 big screens up for the General Election. It didn't start till 10pm so I walked to Piccadilly Circus and was offered 'strawberries' by a junkie, picked up by a Greek bloke who wanted to take me on his scooter and to stay at his flat (I ran away from him at a pedestrian crossing) and after seeing Downing Street etc, watched myself on telle back in Trafalgar Square and returned to Isleworth at 11:30pm.

A most memorable day I must say.

Ok so it's not up there with the death of Kennedy or the Moon landings but it was eventful enough for a naive kid from a small town in N. Ireland. I'm not sure how that shopkeeper who was minding my bags managed to phone me in the days before mobile phones but maybe I rang him to check he still HAD my bags. Donno. Despite being excited and very tired when writing that entry, I seem to have pre-empted the idea of the mobile phone by several years.

I remember a talk we were given before leaving boarding school about the evils and perils of going to sin ridden England where awful things could happen to sweet, innocent boys like wot I was. Given that this talk was given by a priest, even back then the irony was not lost on me.

But as it happened, on that first evening in London, I could've been another crime statistic. I remember being in a park with a lake and whilst standing by a wire fence admiring the ducks, I was aware a man was standing very close to me and inching closer by the second. Suddenly his leg met mine and slow rubbing ensued. I just walked away and that was the end of it.

The bastard never wrote, never rang..........

Then later as my diary entry testifies, a Greek man (not sure how I knew he was Greek so I apologise for smearing that wonderful nation that has no history of such things whatsoever !) came up to me and asked me if I wanted a ride on his scooter. (I do hope that wasn't a euphemism). As he had my arm, I started to go with him and even at 17 and pretty wet behind the ears I was already thinking how to get away from him. As we walked along he said I could go back to his flat and I was thinking "damn, where were you a few hours ago when I'd nowhere to stay ??" No I wasn't. I was actually pretty scared by then.

We got to a pedestrian crossing and while we waited for a break in the heavy traffic, I suddenly sprinted across and left him behind. Happy days.

The 30/- a night for the bed and breakfast may confuse the yute of today. It means 30 shillings and in those pre decimalised days, there were 20 shilling in a £. I know that doesn't sound much but remember the average weekly wage back in 1970 was £13 and so that was costing me about 12% of a weekly wage or say, £70 in today's money. For a tatty b&b.

My sums and conversions may be out but in any case, it was a LOT of money to me at the time.

My 1970 diary (the page-a-day kind) is a very interesting historical record now as I tried to mention important events of the time so I may post a few entries another time.

By the way, the election results the next day showed a surprise victory for Ted Heath's Conservative Party over Harold Wilson's Labour party.

And they say this blog isn't educational !