Goodbye Ireland

Our last night in Ireland, and very sad to leave.  Such a beautiful country, and with equally lovely friendly people.  There is a positive feel here, and an optimism for the future.  

It also a foodie country, with excellent restaurants and cafes.  This was an unexpected surprise.  There is traditional food of course but most places try to experiment with different ideas and ingredients.  And of course the fresh fish is excellent.

We mostly enjoyed visiting the smaller towns and villages, although Dublin was interesting in a very quirky way.  Cork was just plain lovely.   

The museums were also great and stories were told simply and in an interesting manner.  The Irish are great story tellers.

The camping grounds were very good, although some of them a bit too expensive for the mediocre facilities they offer.   The one in Wexford, with lawns that need mowing, charge €31 a night plus extra for showers.  It may be on the harbour but it is not the Cote d'Azur.

The camping ground at Blarney was tops, superbly manicured lawns and hedges, electricity and showers included, and the cheapest one at €12 per night, due to booking for a week.   The price is normally €25 per night.  We certainly spent a very happy five nights there.

The landscaped little garden in the middle of the camping ground at Blarney.

Our experience of Blarney village, the service station, supermarket and takeaway food shop.   The actual Blarney village, which we visited on the last day, was considerably more upmarket.

We drove to Barney Castle to have a look.  After trying to find a carpark among the coaches and cars, we managed to catch a glimpse of the tower through the trees. 

There was also a huge Woollen Mill shop and hotel there, once the premises of the actual woollen mill, I think.

Last night I walked to the entrance of the camping ground, and stood on a low fence in order to capture another view of the tower of Blarney Castle.

Today we drove about 170 kms to Wexford, through undulating countryside.  Sadly we were unable to visit Waterford which is not far from here.  It just became all too much in the end.   We also missed a chance to purchase some Waterford crystal.

We went for another walk through Wexford tonight to see if the place looked as dilapidated as it did when we arrived three weeks ago.  Sometimes first impressions are not always accurate.  The sun was shining today and it did make the town look much better.  However there is an aura of poverty about the place, which is hard to ignore.

Wexford gets an excellent write up in tourist brochures, for its interesting restaurants and cafes and historical sites.                                
                                     
The final ruin.  An abbey in Wexford.

Tomorrow we will be getting up early in order to catch the ferry from Rosslare at 9 a.m.  Hope the weather is good.  And then it is home to Britain, and the full fury of the Brexit fiasco.  Ireland has been quite a haven.

I was determined not write anything about the situation in Britain, but cannot resist just a few lines.

The Labour Party is in a mess.  The current leader Jeremy Corbyn refuses to resign, even though there is a vote of no confidence in him.

Nigel Farage, UKIP, is an absolute twit, as per his speech in the European Parliament yesterday.

There were no prior plans made for a Brexit, either by the Leave campaign or by David Cameron, in case the majority of voters voted for 'Leave'.  The Chanchellor, George Osborne, stated 'It wasn't our responsibility to have a plan for leaving the EU'.

Brexit has been praised by Rupert Murdoch, Donald Trump and Marine Le Pen, the leader of the ultra right wing party in France.

At the moment Britain has lost much of its credibility, I think.

'Having a Claytons' plus a visit to Cork

A thought struck me yesterday, while walking around the lovely city of Cork that the Brexit referendum is all a bit of a Claytons really. 

I am not sure if the expression relating to Claytons is still used in Australia, but for those people who do not know of it, I will explain.   During the 1980s, Claytons was a brand name for a non-alcoholic, non-carbonated beverage, coloured and packaged to resemble bottled whisky.  'The drink you're having when you're not having a drink'.  Claytons came to represent a fake substitution or lack of commitment, for example, a half hearted strike might be called a 'Claytons strike' or a partnership without a marriage ceremoney might be called a 'Claytons marriage.

I feel the expression very aptly applies to the referendum and to Boris Johnson's view of Brexit.

'A Claytons referendum'

David Cameron wanted to have a referendum, to keep some groups in parliament off his back, and show the people of Britain he follows up on promises made during the 2010 Conservative compaign.  

However no boundaries were set, no regulations on the level of turn out or what majority would be required to make it all legitimate.  No need for any of that.  It will not go through. But it did and it backfired for David Camerom.  A referendum when you are not really serious about the outcome and what to do about it if it goes differently than expected. A 'Claytons referendum' for sure.

As for Boris Johnson's Brexit.  He, who actively campaigned for Britain to leave the EU, and who made 'possibilities, not promises', also appeared to have no plan of action, other than aim for the top job.

A 'Claytons Brexit' for sure.  Lets have a Brexit but not really leave the EU.  

Boris wants Britain to be part of the single market, but he forgets that Britain will still have to adhere to the same strict rules, such as free movement of people across the EU.  No change there.

Boris thinks that Britain will still be in 'co-operation and partnership' with the EU in the fields of the arts, sciences, the environment and universities.  Unless Britain pays in some money there will be no subsidies, Boris.  So no change there either.

Boris thinks that British people will still be able to work, live, buy homes and 'settle down' in the EU.  But Britain will need to be part of the EU and abide by EU laws for this to happen.  So no change there also.

A 'Claytons Brexit' for sure.

I talk in jest but sadly for the people of Britain, those people who voted in good faith, it is not amusing.  

But on a very much lighter note.  A day in Cork, in sunshine.  A university city, a purposeful city, and very much a cosmopolitan city.  And mercifully lacking in all the people that throng to Dublin in order to spend their days getting drunk in the pubs.  It is a much cleaner city too.

The city area is very compact, so easy to spend a couple of hours strolling leisurely around, and be able to visit the same place a couple of times.

The English Market, which also had an interesting cafe upstairs and a coffee stand amongst the food aisles.  We went back there after lunch for an espresso.  

This market was delightful to walk through, such an assortment of food.

The huge array of fish was amazing.  But then Ireland is a country which specialises in its fresh fish.

The Irish Poundland store, same colours, same merchandise but everything was €1.50.  Cheaper in Britain.

Cork has had quite a bruising history.  Although it prospered during the 18th century, it was devastated by the famine a century later.  Cork, as a 'rebel city' played a key part in Ireland's struggle for independence.  The British were brutally repressive in Cork, and burned down much of the city centre.

The statue of Fr Matthew statue. Father Mathew was a temperance reformer, and I think founded the Total Abstinence Society.

A cute sculpture of a boy selling newspapers.  I know this sculpture has a significance but I cannot find the answer.

The National Monument which commemorates the rebellions of 1798, 1803, 1848 and 1867.

The grand Georgian main streets were beautifully paved and very wide.

The narrow old side streets held fascinating small shops and cafes,

I think I had a problem with angles yesterday.  Even Walter standing proudly in his new hoodie, is standing on a lean.

The Church of Sts Peter and Paul.  A beautiful church and very peaceful inside.

St Fin Barre's Cathedral, French Gothic with medieval gargoyles and sculptures.  It certainly stands out amongst the buildings.

St Fin Barre founded a monastery here during the 7th century, and by the 12th century the settlement had become the chief city of the Kingdom of Munster.

The cathedral is now Anglian, and charge to go inside, which we could not do, as there was a service in process in one of the side chapels.  This would not happen in a Catholic church.

A lovely little park, fairly new, built on the edge of the old city wall.

We walked back to the carpark, which was on the edge of the centre of the city, and drove back to the caravan in a very short time.  We will really miss the ease of travelling around by car.

Ruins amd more ruins, and not just castles either

Today I realised that feeling depressed about being in a country that was no longer in the European Union was luxury compared to watching in dismay at the unfolding situation in Britain.

We have political parties in disarray,  David Cameron resigned , when his plan failed,  Boris Johnson offering platitudes to everyone,  Nigel Farage keeping quiet, and George Osborne trying to calm the financial markets. 

'Trust us!'  'Time to build bridges'

And in the meantime the pound is dropping, the S & P credit rating has dropped from a Triple A to a Double A rating, and the business and financial sectors are making waves.   

And we learn that the 'Leave Campaign' was based on possibilities, not promises.   'Promises were a range of possibilities' apparently.

The three 'key promises' (possibilities)

1. The money, £350 million the EU takes every week, would be diverted to the NHS.  It was emblazoned on the compaign buses at first.  But once the rebate is taken off, plus the support for farmers and others, it would leave £161 million for the NHS.  

2.  Immigration.  Promises wers made to reduce the numbers of people coming to Britain from other EU countries.  However if Britain remains in the Single Market, there will still be free movement between countries.

3.  Turkey has been trying to get into the E U. since 1963 and the likehood of it happening is pretty remote.

I thought yesterday, that a good shake up of the government may make politicians listen to what people have to say about what is happening to them. But sadly I do not think so now.   They are too busy fighting their own battles, or trying to think up some quick plans or trying to gain power within their party.   For us it will be more of the same but worse.  Those at the top will not suffer, except perhaps for a little dent in their pride.   

Yesterday we drove north on the M8, to Cashel and Cahir, in Tipperary.  In hindsight it would have been better to have driven across from Limerick to see the two castles, but we changed our minds about the last few days in Ireland and decided to stay in Cork rather than go to Waterford. 

First stop, St Patrick's Rock of Cashel, set on an outcrop of limestone in the Golden Vale.  For 1000 years the Rock of Cashel was a symbol of power and the seat of kings and churchmen who ruled over the region.

There is scaffolding on one side of the building, due to repairs, but this will be dismantled in Autumn.

The castle looked daunting and very high from the viewpoint in the graveyard.  I  managed to capture Walter taking a photograph from a slightly different angle.

The Round Tower is the Rock's earliest building, built during the 11th or 12th century.  The castle was built in the 15th century.

There were free guided tours, which we and most people took advantage of, and they were very informative as always.  The people of Ireland certainly have the ability to tell a story well.

The 13th century Gothic Cathedral.

I took a photo of the  Romanesque Chapel, dated from 1127, which has had repairs done to the ceiling, and is now climate controlled to stop mildew forming on the walls and ceiling.   Unfortunately the photo was blurred.  It was interesting being inside the chapel, and the guide pointed out fragments of original paintings on the walls.   There was a sarcophagus against one wall said to house King Cormac.

One of the doors leading out of the cathedral.  There were quite a few interesting features still on the walls.

The restored Hall of Vicars Choral, where members of the choir resided.   The furniture and wall hanging are centuries old, but come from elsewhere.  The oak beams came from Canada.   The walls have been whitewashed in order to make the room lighter.

St Patrick's cross.  A replica is outside in the courtyard.  I think St Patrick was meant to have baptised a local king on the rock.

The view over the surrounding countryside was spectacular.  

We walked down the hill and along the road to Hore Abbey, which is in the foreground of the photograph.

This abbey is certainly atmospheric, and I think we enjoyed walking amongst the ruins more than the visit to the Rock of Cashel.

Walter and I, dwarfed by the enormous gothic church.

Hore Abbey was founded by Cistercians in 1266.  It was once a Benedictine Abbey but was given to the Cistercians by Archbishop David MacCearbhaill, who later entered the abbey.

It was very easy to imagine the monks living in this abbey.

The lovely black and white cows in the field around the abbey.    We had to dodge the cowpats as we crossed the field to the abbey.

Next stop, Cahir, pronounced care, which is 15 km south of Cashel.   Cashel and Cahir are derivatives of the original Latin names.

The town of Cahir is built around the castle, and like most Irish towns is compact and attractive.  It has a walking path along the banks of the river, which sadly we did not have time to do.

Cahir Castle, one of Ireland's largest and best preserved castles.  It was founded by Conor O'Brien in 1142.We found it to be a very friendly and homely castle, compared to Dover castle, for example.

The banqueting hall.

One of the upstairs rooms in the keep.

The rachet, to lower and raise the portcullis.  It still works apparently.

This area was used as a prison, and when the portcullis was lowered it was impossible to get out.  Prisoners were not treated terribly well, which is not unexpected.

I found the extremely narrow stairs fascinating.  The guide at the Rock of Cashel told us they were designed like this to protect the people above.  Anyone attacking the castle would be at a disadvantage, as the stairs were dark and precarious, and it was difficult to climb up and hold a sword as well.  Also the people above poured boiling hot sand and oil down the stairs.  Nasty.  There had been battles in this castle.

The narrow passages were also another form of security.

A large weir on the River Suir.

We drove home again, along the nearly empty motorway, feeling very happy and contented.

Now England has been beaten by Iceland in the European cup, 2016, and the English manager has just resigned.  And the woes continue to build up.

Spike Island 'ireland's Alcatraz'

No blog last night, as it took all evening to upload the photos.  Holidays have started in Ireland, the camping ground is full, and the wifi is stretched to its limit.

We are still feeling very dispirited about the referendum in Britain.  How did the country get itself into such a mess?   Was it a prime minister who would not initially support the EU, and then got himself into a position where he was not strong enough to stand up to other parliamentarians, and then allowed a promised referendum to take place?  Well if that was the case it certainly backfired on him.

And the people who voted to leave?  They may not understand the purpose of the European Union, and its importance to Britain, as it is a highly complex, mysterious and often bureaucratic organisation. Or people may have been caught up with politicians giving incorrect information or making rash promises, fed up with an underfunded NHS,  or problems with crime in their areas, or  unemployment or a steady stream of new people coming into the country.   But I think most importantly people were not being listened to before the referendum.  

There is no doubt the establishment has been shaken up, and those in power in Britain have been given a message.  I just hope they listen to it.   And take some positive action.

In the meantime we are destined to leave the European Union, unless a miracle happens.

As tourists, in Ireland, we carry on with our tour.   And what better way to keep the mood dark; visit a former fort and prison.

We caught a small ferry from Cobh to Spike Island, which has been renovated and recently opened as a museum.

But first another look at the Irish Navy buildings on the island of Haulbowline.  We actually went around the island on the way back from Spike Island, and the buildings at the front, in the photograph below, have been closed up, and the one on the left has no roof.  There is a building behind them which is a ruin.  The Irish Navy appear to be occupying new buildings at the back of the island.  I wonder if there are plans to renovate the old buildings and perhaps turn them into a museum.

There was sunshine yesterday.  And the world looked a much better place.  The view back to Cobh was fantastic.  St Coleman's Cathedral certainly dominates the skyline.

Once we arived on the island we noticed groups of children, running around, out on kayaks or in an Adventure Park, which contained obstacle courses, and military style tents.  As it was Saturday we knew they could not be part of school groups.  Holiday camps?  It transpired that some of the groups were having birthday parties.   A group of very excited eight or nine year olds came back on the ferry with us.  Certainly a different sort of birthday party.

Spike Island was once an important part of the port's defences.  The first fort was built in 1779, due to the American Revolution, as British ships used the port while waiting to sail to America.   It was named Fort Westmoreland.   Now it is called Fort Mitchel, after John Mitchel, national activist and political journalist who was held on the island for a time.  I think he was transported to Bermuda.

A new fort, which is the current one, was built in the early 1800s. In the second half of the 19th century, and again during the Irish War of Independence, the fort was used as a prison and internment centre, gaining the nickname 'Ireland's Alcatraz'.

There were also families living on the island, and there was a school and a church.  At first they were the families of service personnel, and then families of the prison wardens or a mixture of the two. The island remained as a prison and garrison under British Sovereignty until 11th July 1938.

The houses have been empty since the 1985 riots when all the families were evacuated from the island and given houses on the mainland.

The houses are now boarded up, and are in disrepair, and the surrounding trees have taken over.  It is possible to see that there was once a large village on one side of the island.

Walter and I first walked around the island, on a beautifully made footpath.  The views were excellent.

The gates are open and Walter is ready to set forth into the prison, as a visitor.

The first stop was the last area to be used, a prison for young offenders, opened in 1985.

The room where the prisoners could meet with visitors, prisoners on one side and visitors on the other side.

This part of the prison was updated, which included central heating, before it was used for the young offenders.   The prison was finally closed in 2003, when the last 180 prisoners were moved to another prison.

Four beds to a room, and a toilet as well.   This was luxury compared to the rest of the prison.

We moved on to other sections.   This upstairs room was reasonable, although small.  It had a very high ceiling and a high window.  But at least it was light and airy.

The exercise yard for young offenders, complete with a football post painted onto the wall.

This building was once a drill hall, and now a cafe, serving delicious coffee and cakes, plus sandwiches.  Toilets have been built onto the side of the building.

A view towards the recreation hall, although no doubt it was used for different purposes over the years.  There were married quarters upstairs on either side of the hall.  A beautiful building, and grand hall.  Definitely not for the prisoners though.

Except some of the prisoners in the 1985 riots climbed up onto the roof of the hall.

The 19th century prison building, where many convicts and prisoners were housed downstairs in dreadful conditions.    Due to poverty, starvation and poor health many prisoners died here.   The upstairs part housed the families of people who worked in the prisons.  It must have been hard on them too.

Block A, the burnt out shell, the scene of the 1985 riots.

The worst area was the punishment block.  A dark, grim place with barely any light.  Often the prisoners in these cells had no bed, and were chained to the wall.

This man in the photo below is not checking Facebook on a mobile phone.  Same pose I know.   I used the flash on the phone as it was dark in the room.  Torchlights were provided so that people could see around.  I thought the man was moving when I looked in the room.  It was a very eerie place.  I was glad to get out into the fresh air.

A recreation of the prison ships, either to Bermuda or Australia.

And on a brighter note.  A view through the observation window, towards the gap between the two peninsulas, the entrance to the port, and the open sea beyond them.

I must comment on the amazing staff in all the museums we have visited.  They have been very welcoming, friendly and willing to give out information about exhibits.

The museums are organised so that there is not too much information, and it is always presented in an interesting way.  I think people in Ireland are excellent story tellers.