A birthday in Dublin

A birthday in Dublin, which included two meals, lunch and dinner, and both delicious.  Dublin certainly excels in the food area.  A variety of dishes, all expertly prepared and served, and not expensive either.

During the last few years I have been fortunate to have celebrated my birthday in a number of countries.  England of course, but also Amboise in the Loire Valley, with Brian and Susanne, Llubljana in Slovenia, and last year in Norway.  Very exciting.

On the hop on, hop off bus which collected us at the caravan park and took us into the centre of Dublin.  A trip that took one and a quarter hours.  We were in need of a coffee by the time we got into Dublin.

First stop, the GPO, the scene of the 1916 Rising, also known as the Easter Rebellion.  The Rising was launched by Irish Republicans to end British Rule in Ireland and to establish an independent Irish Republic.  Of course, the English government saw the rebellion as an uprising, not a rising.  They brought in a huge army to defeat the republicans, and thousands of people were killed.

Walter standing in front of a window of the GPO.  Inside there is a sculpture commenerating the Rising.

The inside of the GPO.  A very old fashioned ornate post office.

The excellent display was in the basement of the GPO.  A very moving experience.

The memorial to the men who led the rebellion.

The very tall spire which replaced the column with a sculpture of Nelson on the top.

After a lunch of spicy soup and bread, both made fresh on the premises of the restaurant, we walked over the Ha'penny Bridge, which is Dublin's oldest pedestrian crossing over the River Liffey.  It was erected in 1816 as the Wellington Bridge and acquired its nickname from the halfpenny toll levied on all users of the bridge until 1919.

A photo of me looking anxiously over the railings of the bridge.  Not sure why!

We spent quite a bit of time looking around Temple Bar, with its cobbled streets and bars, restaurants, tattoo shops, and food shops.  A fascinating area during the day but it apparently comes alive at night.  We ate an early dinner there and left just as it was getting busy.  A popular place for British Hen parties, and men going overboard on the booze, I think.

Another view of Temple Bar.

An interesting building, a little shabby, as were most of the buildings in Dublin.

We also had a good look around Trinity College, founded on the order of Elizabeth I, in 1592.  Unfortunately the queue to see The Book of Kells was too long, so we missed it.

Then off to look at St Patrick's Cathedral, built between 1191 and 1270 on the site of an earlier cburch that stood there from the 5th century.  It was here that St Patrick reputedly baptised the local Celtic chieftains.  An impressive building.

St Patrick's Cathedral is actually an Anglian church rather than a Catholic church.  It is part of the Church of Ireland.  That came as a bit of a surprise.

And along the street there is another imposing church, Christ Church Cathedral, also Anglian.   I wonder where the Catholic Churches are in the centre of Dublin.

As we left Temple Bar, the Garda were making their prescence felt, so as to keep some order amongst the revelling crowd that were filling the streets.  We were pleased to be going back to the camping ground.

The centre of Dublin is not clean by any means, and in fact quite grotty in places.  Yet it is a very interesting city.  We enjoyed ourselves immensely.

Wexford, Ireland

I received a sudden shock this morning,   I put the €2 coin in the slot, as per instructions from Walter, who said that it took a few minutes for the water to warm up.  As it was cold in the shower block I thought I would wait until the water was warm before undressing.  I was immediately blasted with freezing cold water.  I then took off my very wet pyjamas.  

The toilet block has been recently renovated and the shower curtains were being used as doors for the toilets.  I presume that once the doors are installed the curtains will be put into the shower cubicles.    All very odd.

And on the subject of camping grounds.  We think €2 is a bit expensive for a shower, especially as the camping grounds so far are not cheap, roughly about €24 to €28 per night.   The shower in the caravan now seems very appealing.

A very interesting method of drying clothes.  Very artistic.  

Wexford.  My apologies to anyone connected with Wexford, as the following words are not very complementary.  I know the mist was thick this morning, which always paints a gloomier picture of a place, but my initial impressions were not positive.   The town had an air of dilapidation and associated poverty.  

We walked along North Main and South Main Streets, trying to avoid the cars that were also using the narrow street.

These buildings were in need of some loving care.

However there were some very smart shops and boutiques lining the street.

The lovely woman in the Tourist Office gave us plenty of literature about Wexford, and it certainly is a very historic town.  It dates back to the Vikings with a strong Norman connection.  It is a port town, and there are some very old buildings, such West Gate Tower, Selskar Abbey, Keyser's Lane and Bull Ring.

Apparently it also has a significant artistic culture hosting a number of art galleries, an arts centre, local museums, street entertainment and a famed Opera House, which holds a twelve day season of opera once a year.

We decided not to linger any longer, and headed back to our caravan, relieved that we were driving somewhere else.

The drive on the N11/M11 was very relaxing.  The mist lifted which also lifted our spirits somewhat.   The countryside around us was hilly, with green fields and wooded areas.  We drove through some very picturesque villages.

Now we are in a really lovely camping ground, well maintained, and each site enclosed within its own little hedge.

Looking forward to tomorrow, a look at Dublin, and my birthday too.

Ireland - here at last.

Another superb day, weatherwise.  We were so fortunate as we were expecting Wales to be shrouded in mist.  So sunshine was a real bonus.   We even went for a short walk around the edge of the cliffs, this morning.  No chance of falling over the edge as the narrow path was flanked by thick hedges on both sides.  We could have been walking anywhere.

Walter found the fault with the caravan stop light.  It was a broken fuse, easily changed, and now everything works as it should.  Walter read the caravan manuel this morning.   Obvious I know.  One is always learning.

We left in a bit of a rush, due to staff members coming to tell us they were stopping the traffic on the entrance road, so that we could drive out.  We then drove off with a top vent open and the door wide open.  Luckily it was noticed by the people in the next caravan.  Very embarrassing.

It was my turn to drive on the narrow and hilly roads to the ferry port.   Thank goodness English drivers were courteous and allowed us to go through the narrow parts first.

We lined up at the ferry port, and spent the next two hours eating our lunch and basking in the sunshine.

The ferry was enormous, although very old.  It was a comfortable three and a half hours.  The sea was very calm.  All went well.

Walter looking very relaxed.

Great excitement.  We could see the sky as the ramp was lowered onto the dock.  We should have been first off but I stalled the car which meant the motorome next to us drove off first.  Not good.  It also meant that we followed the motorhome, with an Austrian number plate.  And we nearly went in the wrong direction as the driver became confused, which was understandable, given the lack of signs.

One does not need a passport to go to Ireland, as the top part of the country is the UK.  We were stopped by a policeman who asked about our nationality and we became confused and said 'English'.   Well we are to a certain degree.  He must have wondered about our accents.

Our first impressions of this part of Ireland were not particularily great, but then driving away from ports often means driving through unattractive areas; namely run down housing areas or industrial sites.  The open countryside was much better, and reminded us of New Zealand.  

Our destination for the night.  The town of Wexford, about half an hours drive from the port.   A little scruffy but with some interesting buildings.

The camping ground, with the sea behind us.  And lovely sunshine.

Wales is over the sea.  It is amazing to think that England, Wales and Scotland is an island, and we are on the next island, the Republic of Ireland, and Northern Ireland.

The sea mist has now totally eclipsed us, and all we can see is grey.  No town, no water.  Just the few caravans and motorhomes around us.  And a man in a small tent.  All alone in a camping ground.  In Ireland.

Ireland, here we come. First stop, Fishguard, Wales.

We were out of bed early this morning, 4.30 am, to be precise.   The idea was that we would drive the northern part of the M25 before it got too busy.   The other option was to leave at 9 am, after peak hour, but there was no knowing what holdups there might be, due to an incident earlier in the morning.

Our intentions were to be on the A2 by 5.30 am but as all good intentions go, it was more like 6 am.  Now, people who have had no experience of the M25 will wonder what the fuss is about, but believe me, half an hour can make all the difference to the volume of traffic.   

In the UK people have lengthy discussions about motorways, and roads, and the best possible route to get from point A to point B.   A fascinating topic of conversation.  A national pastime, one might say.

But back to our trip.  We had the usual discussion about the jockey wheel, and then discovered that the new bulb Walter put in the back left hand light, did not work.  So no light or brake light on that side.  There was nothing we could do but drive away, and keep our fingers crossed there would be no problems.  

As expected there was traffic congestion between the M1 and M40 turnoffs, so it took us two hours to drive to the M4 rather than one hour.  But after that all went well.   It tooks us nine hours to get here, with two lengthy stops.  Not too bad, really.

At first the weather was cloudy but warm, then as we drove into Wales the temperature dropped four degrees, from 21 to 17, and the fog closed in around us. Typical we thought, we were in Wales.

As we approached Fishguard, the fog lifted and we were bathed in glorious sunshine.  And what a difference it made, to the beautiful countryside around us.

We stopped at the start of the lane that led to the campsite and rang the office, as per instructions.  The reason being, the camp staff need to ensure there were no vehicles coming towards us.  

   

The lane was a one way road with a couple of passing bays.  We did not want to test our reversing skills on this track.  Not after the fiasco in Norway last year.  I would also like to add that the greenery on the sides of the road, or I should say track, hid the usual drywall fence.   The stones and rocks in these fences are absolutely lethal to vehicles should one drive too close to them.

Walter reversed the caravan onto the site, and did a pretty good job too.

The views are amazing.   Looking towards the northern coastline of Wales.

The view towards the south west.   And tomorrow afternoon we will cross this sea, in a ferry, to Rosslare, Ireland.

We feel as if we are going on a big adventure, to an island that we have never visited, we are ashamed to admit.  An island shrouded in mystery, and clouds, mist and rain too, no doubt.

We know a large number of people who left Ireland to find work elsewhere.   We also know a large number of people who have parents, grandparents or great grandparents who left Ireland because of economic hardships or because of continuing conflicts.  My grandmother being one of these people.  Ireland has or had a special place in their hearts.

So we are going to find out what Ireland is all about, or at least the bottom third of it. We only have three weeks.

But first we must fix the light on the back of the caravan.

A brief interlude - home for a few days

Home for a few days, well two weeks in total.   Just enough time to spend a little time with Emma, Steve, Jackson and Isabel, and the dogs, plus catchup with friends, and get the garden back into order again.

A few days with the dogs, who enjoyed their walks and sharing my toast in the morning.

Walter mowing the lawn.  When he saw me he pointed to the bark pieces on the lawn, which the foxes had kicked off the garden bed.  The foxes like to sleep amongst the bark under the cherry tree.  Walter was not a happy person.  My apologies for taking the photo, Walter.  Bad timing, for sure.   

The garden looks really lovely.  A pity we are going away for three weeks.

The caravan is loaded up and ready to go.  When I was washing it I noticed a deep scratch on the side of the caravan, acquired no doubt while we were on the ferry on the way home in May.   It is about the same height as a side mirror of a bus or truck, and as that particular lane was loaded after we left the car, we were not there to witness the incident.   A real pain.

And now we are off again.   To visit the emerald isle, namely the Republic of Ireland.   Looking forward to it.

We have packed our wet weather gear.   It is sure to be wet.

A day in Utrecht

A day in Utrecht with Emma and Kylie.   And Raphy too, as it was a teacher training day in the infant part of his school.

We set off after coffee, to cycle to Utrecht.   Kylie on her bike, with Raphy on the back, Emma on Abi's bike, with the seat raised a bit, and me on the spare bike, which is a little antiquated and squeaky.  Like me. I think Utrecht is roughly a 7 km ride from Houten.   Luckily there was no wind, which can whip across the flat land, and make cycling hard work.

The first sight.   The Dom, standing up straight, for a change.

The church, in the photograph below, used to be attached to the tower.   During a storm about three hundred years ago, the connecting building was blown down, and never rebuilt.

There were three weddings in the vicinity of the church.   I am not sure if the weddings took place in the church or in the building opposite.   But it was a great place for wedding photographs.  

I loved the wedding cars.   I hope the wedding party did not travel too far.

A dirty rusty bike, still with the lock on it, and with a note for the council to collect it.   It had been pulled out of the canal.   No doubt thrown there by vandals.

Window cleaning, via a very long pole.  A bit hard on the arms.

Raphy posing on the curved staircase, of a very ornate bar/restaurant.   The building once housed a department store.   Although the building was very ornate but the menu looked very mediocre.

This dog was real, as it slept happily on the couch in a furniture shop.   It even let me pat it.   I wonder if it helped sell the furniture.

After a delicious lunch, followed by an afternoon tea in a cafe, which served the best apple cake I have ever eaten,  we set off back to Houten.

Another really lovely day together.   Plus Raphy of course, and he behaved perfectly, as always.

Back in Houten, on the Saturday, the beach ball competition was attracting plenty of attention.   Every year, tons and tons of sand are dumped on the square, and activities take place for the local residents.   There is also a bar, which is well supported by the adult residents.   A beach is not complete without a bar.

Emma and I reluctantly left at lunchtime on Saturday order to catch the plane back to Southend.     A truly great three days.

's-Hertogenbosch or Den Bosch

I have been back to the Netherlands again, after having returned to the UK for ten days.  This time it was a visit with Emma for a girlie few days.    In years past, Donna also took part, but of course, she now lives in Adelaide, Australia, and a little too far to come for a short visit.  We really missed you, Donna.   

Emma and I flew from Gatwick to Schiphol, an easy trip, although Gatwick was absolutely heaving with people.   It was lovely to leave the gloom of south east England, and arrive in sunshine and warmth in the Netherlands.   

On the first day we visited 's-Hertogenbosch which is commonly called Den Bosch, to make it easier for everyone.    A picturesque town in the province of Brabant, about 45 minutes by train from Houten.   An easy trip.

Emma and Kylie, all ready for a day of sightseeing and shopping.

Thank goodness I am no longer on a sugar free diet.   The cakes looked delicious.

Emma and I shared a local delicacy, a Bosche bol, which is a large profiterole, filled with sweetened whipped cream and coated with dark chocolate icing.   What decadence!   Half was enough, I might add.   It was delicious but very rich.

Bundeberg Ginger Beer for sale.   Out favourite tipple in Australia and New Zealand.   It was very strange to see it for sale in the Netherlands.

The magnificant Brabantine Gothic Church, of St John the Evangelist.   It was built during the 15th/16th century, and completed in 1526.   

The church is unique, as the flying buttresses are reinforced with statues instead of the more common crockets.  A local artist Hieronymus Bosch, who lived in the town from 1450 to 1516, used such figurines in the imagery of his paintings.   It is thought that he probably had an influence on the design of the sculptures.

There is currently an exhibition of Hieronymus Bosch's paintings in the North Brabant Museum in Den Bosch. which is now impossible to see, as all tickets were sold months ago.   However, the town has put on quite a few exhibits around the town in support of the main exhibition.

And the exhibition provided the opportunity for people to view the sculptures on the buttresses.   A temporary structure has been built on the side of the church, so that people can climb up and walk around the edge of the roof.  

The scaffold was sturdy, but very high.   It took two attempts before I managed to climb to the top.   I am such a coward when it comes to heights.  

A platform at the top provided an opportunity to have a really good look around.   Kylie and Emma looked up at me, as I walked around the roof line.   They, of course, had already walked around, while I was trying to pluck up courage down at the bottom of the stairs.

A chance to look closely at the roof, and spires.

A great view over the town, and the streets below.

The buttresses were covered with figurines, depicting all aspects of life.  They were not the originals. which were removed during restorations in the 19th and 20th centurie.   The originals were damaged by weather and neglect over the previous centuries.   Many of the originals are in the museum which is beside the church.  Fascinating.   

We also went to see the Bosch Experience, an occulus rift experience.   This is where we put huge masks on, and ear phones, and viewed a surreal 3D view of Hieronymus Bosch's paintings and figures, 'on a heavenly host of delights on the road to hell'.   My sense of balance did take some time to readjust afterwards.

An Hieronymus Bosch figure, bold and stark.   My apologies to the more sensitive readers of this blog.

One of the squares in Den Bosch.

The town hall, always a highly decorated building in the Netherlands.

We ate a delicious and very reasonably priced lunch in the sunny restaurant courtyard, not far from the church.

A truly lovely day out with Emna and Kylie.