We stood the airbed up against the wall as usual, the only difference this time was the next time we went to bed it would be our own.
No one realizes how beautiful it is to travel until he comes home and rests his head on his old, familiar pillow. ~Lin Yutang
It was Saturday, our final day. We were sad.
Today promised to be busy though, lots of visitors and stuff.
Lunch was to be a bbq mastered by that renowned Australian barbyneur Trev Sir Loin. Head of Salads, Nicole Pearcesnip and all round muncher Nick Three Bellies In attendance.
Sirloin or Australian Porterhouse steaks along with three or four varieties of sausage, including Polish Kransky, Jacks favourite, were on the menu. A salad featuring mixed leaves, feta, cucumber, tomato and roasted pine nuts accompanied the carnivores feast.
Appetites sated, we sat around discussing topical issues, predominantly immigration and demography. Jack is well read on these matters and it’s very interesting to hear his take on things, same as my own actually.
Debbie is Trevors’ sister, and today she is a year older than she was yesterday.
Seems to be a tradition down here to have your birthday cake somewhere other than your party place. It’s a nice way to share your day with more people.
Today our dear new friends Jack (Immigration dept) and Thelma, Trev and Debbies’ parents are over to share the cake.
Obviously after we munch our way through the barby.
Debbies three children although hardly little anymore where here to help with eating the cake. Huddo and Yvonne, childhood friends, and Max and Jack their children are here also.
It was enjoyable to have a bit of social intercourse with the family. All the same, yet all so different.
Debbie is a peach.
Expressive by gesture and tone, the mark of a legendary thespian.
Don’t you know?
Without doubt, one of the most interesting people we met on our travels.
Oh well.
All good things come to an end.
We’d some travelling to do.
Our bags had been packed earlier as a joint effort. Weight distributed evenly, fragile things well wrapped and hidden among clothing. Patches, both for eyes and arms, medications, sleeping tablets, all the accoutrements we’d need. All safely in hand luggage for the twenty six hours of travel.
I’m feeling a sense of relief to be going home.
We left a little early for the airport. It would give Nicola and Trevor a chance to catch up with the party goers at Debbies birthday bash.
Farewells made, kisses kissed we bade the pair goodbye. If I’ve learned one thing in my life it’s this. And I should try to make it into some profound saying.
Never watch your loved ones disappear, instead look forward to being with them again.
Hey that’s not bad. Says it all.
Nicola and Trevor went partying, we went duty freeing.
God I hate airports.
Our flight was called. On our way.
We ascended into the night sky. “Oh dear” I thought. “Trapped in this tin can for fourteen and a half hours. Divine”
Will I get any sleep? No!
When the attendants came round with water, drink, food, whatever, I took it. I tried to see how long it would take to do something. Whether it drink a beer, eat dinner, whatever.
Sometimes I timed it in minutes and other times in distance travelled. To make life more interesting, I even alternated between measuring in metric and imperial!
The fasten seatbelt sign came on a few times. The driver announced it would get a bit bumpy. More of those potholes I believe.
It never did though, get bumpy I mean.
Flying is not a problem for me. I enjoy being up in the air.
Don’t forget, you can’t get hurt up there, it’s only the contact with the ground or water does the hurting bit.
Look.
Try this.
Slap the air with just one hand.
There, did that hurt?
Try it again even harder.
Well?
Now try slapping the desk the same way.
See.
Physics.
The plane was coming in to land at Abu Dhabi.
Margaret had been sleeping on and off. Not a bad thing. At least her form would’nt be too bad while we went through the rigmarole of immigration (Where’s Jack?), duty free again and the smoking room, which we know is here from our previous visit.
Saturday, February 27, 2010
Friday, February 26, 2010
Day 52 - Friday 26 Feb
This morning was our wedding anniversary. Thirty eight years and never a cross word.
Aye right.
Nicola was determined not to let us forget our special day so she treated us to a very nice lunch at Café Di Stasio.
The weather as usual was kind enough to shine on us as we ate to our hearts content on the side walk. That sounds far better than the footpath. The food was simply made with the emphasis on flavour. Little wonder it receives the accolades it does.
A good way to see any city is to view it from the river. All great cities are built on rivers, naturally, that’s the way it is.
We decided our last portion of exploring would be thus. There wasn’t a great deal of choice, as there was a Regatta further up the River Yarra so all the boats would be sailing downstream only. No bother ducky.
Our captain, a man in his thirties and quite handsome, although maybe not as much as he seemed to think himself. Know the kind?
Well, he paraded about the riverside while waiting for his cargo of human voyeurs to board. Margaret was enjoying his company anyway; I noticed she never came aft to join me in the open part outside. The narration was down to earth and knowledgeable, and delivered with disdain towards the system. So unlike anything I would do!
The trip was interesting, about one hour out and one back. The water looked really clean to be running through a city of over five million, and a lot of them Indian. Have you seen the Ganges?
After the pleasantness on the briney, we called into a bar on Southbank. Here we met a lovely waitress from Malta of all places. We only had a beer and then on to find a bar that one of Jeanette’s friends worked in.
We found the bar but the girl was not available to comment, in fact she was slogging away in the office somewhere.
Tonight would be our last night in Australia. I never say never, but we both realised that we would not be making this trip again anyway soon. As M said, “If you didn’t have somebody there, you’d never go”. That is so true. Australia is a brilliant place to be young, energetic, and ambitious. It offers a brilliant lifestyle. Weather. Culture.
On the other hand, why do so many of its people choose to live elsewhere?
Aye right.
Nicola was determined not to let us forget our special day so she treated us to a very nice lunch at Café Di Stasio.
The weather as usual was kind enough to shine on us as we ate to our hearts content on the side walk. That sounds far better than the footpath. The food was simply made with the emphasis on flavour. Little wonder it receives the accolades it does.
A good way to see any city is to view it from the river. All great cities are built on rivers, naturally, that’s the way it is.
We decided our last portion of exploring would be thus. There wasn’t a great deal of choice, as there was a Regatta further up the River Yarra so all the boats would be sailing downstream only. No bother ducky.
Our captain, a man in his thirties and quite handsome, although maybe not as much as he seemed to think himself. Know the kind?
Well, he paraded about the riverside while waiting for his cargo of human voyeurs to board. Margaret was enjoying his company anyway; I noticed she never came aft to join me in the open part outside. The narration was down to earth and knowledgeable, and delivered with disdain towards the system. So unlike anything I would do!
The trip was interesting, about one hour out and one back. The water looked really clean to be running through a city of over five million, and a lot of them Indian. Have you seen the Ganges?
After the pleasantness on the briney, we called into a bar on Southbank. Here we met a lovely waitress from Malta of all places. We only had a beer and then on to find a bar that one of Jeanette’s friends worked in.
We found the bar but the girl was not available to comment, in fact she was slogging away in the office somewhere.
Tonight would be our last night in Australia. I never say never, but we both realised that we would not be making this trip again anyway soon. As M said, “If you didn’t have somebody there, you’d never go”. That is so true. Australia is a brilliant place to be young, energetic, and ambitious. It offers a brilliant lifestyle. Weather. Culture.
On the other hand, why do so many of its people choose to live elsewhere?
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Day 51 - Thursday 25 Feb
Oh dear. It’s Thursday morning which means there are only three days left of our elongated holiday, or holidays to be more precise.
Nicola had suggested we pay a visit to a National Trust property at the next train stop along the line from here. Ripponlea.
A nice example of early Australian life. This house was built with money from the Sargood family drapery and clothing firm. It was at its peak during the gold rush and although we’ve seen a lot of things relating to the gold rush, this is the first tangible thing we’ve seen to come out of that period.
The last tour of the house for the day had just started so we dipped out. Instead, we saw around the gardens including the sorry looking lake which was suffering so much from lack of rainfall, and then on down into the basement kitchen area of the house. A fascinating insight into Melbournian life in days gone by.
Elsternwick, the locality that Rippon Lea sits in is another very warm and welcoming sort of place. All human life is here, without the litter. I was bemused to see rather more of the long bearded types than would be normal, but hey, that is life my boy.
The villagey feel to the place belies the fact that it sits on the main rail link into Melbourne about ten clicks away.
I must admit to preferring here to St. Kilda.
Then, it was only a fleeting visit, in the sunshine and on holiday.
We just went home after our visit. There was bad weather forecast, and they never get it wrong.
About an hour after arriving home, there was one monumental thunderstorm.
The rain came in torrents, the lightning flashed like maniacal strobes. I’ve heard this all before, only this time it was worse.
We were to have a bbq tonight, but decided to call it off because the rain had breached the ceiling in the dining area, and the whole place was soaking.
Frantic phone calls to Trevor at work along with calls to the realtor who let the house out. And yet more to the erstwhile dinner guests, cancelling.
We got the place dried out. In fact an hour after the deluge, everywhere was bone dry and back to normal sunny Melbourne, until next time.
Cheryl and Elliot. The Christian names of the friends are fab.
These two are certainly no exception. Cheryl, another lovely person is in HR back in Cambridge. She came over for a few months to be with her boyfriend Elliot, who’s in IT.
Cheryl is a little older than Elliot so she affectionately calls him boy or The Boy.
They braved the elements to come over for the bbq and it turned out to be a good wee night. Elliot in his naivety brought me a bottle of Guinness. It was like the Porter of olden days with a hint of cats pish in it. Still, the boy wasn’t to know.
Cheryl pronounced Sheril, is fitness fanatical, in my opinion.
She has signed up for a boot camp where they almost torture the hapless victims while making them run about in thirty odd degrees.
Actually, I don’t know who’s worse. Trainer or trainee.
Having said that though, they were both joys to meet.
Nicola had suggested we pay a visit to a National Trust property at the next train stop along the line from here. Ripponlea.
A nice example of early Australian life. This house was built with money from the Sargood family drapery and clothing firm. It was at its peak during the gold rush and although we’ve seen a lot of things relating to the gold rush, this is the first tangible thing we’ve seen to come out of that period.
The last tour of the house for the day had just started so we dipped out. Instead, we saw around the gardens including the sorry looking lake which was suffering so much from lack of rainfall, and then on down into the basement kitchen area of the house. A fascinating insight into Melbournian life in days gone by.
Elsternwick, the locality that Rippon Lea sits in is another very warm and welcoming sort of place. All human life is here, without the litter. I was bemused to see rather more of the long bearded types than would be normal, but hey, that is life my boy.
The villagey feel to the place belies the fact that it sits on the main rail link into Melbourne about ten clicks away.
I must admit to preferring here to St. Kilda.
Then, it was only a fleeting visit, in the sunshine and on holiday.
We just went home after our visit. There was bad weather forecast, and they never get it wrong.
About an hour after arriving home, there was one monumental thunderstorm.
The rain came in torrents, the lightning flashed like maniacal strobes. I’ve heard this all before, only this time it was worse.
We were to have a bbq tonight, but decided to call it off because the rain had breached the ceiling in the dining area, and the whole place was soaking.
Frantic phone calls to Trevor at work along with calls to the realtor who let the house out. And yet more to the erstwhile dinner guests, cancelling.
We got the place dried out. In fact an hour after the deluge, everywhere was bone dry and back to normal sunny Melbourne, until next time.
Cheryl and Elliot. The Christian names of the friends are fab.
These two are certainly no exception. Cheryl, another lovely person is in HR back in Cambridge. She came over for a few months to be with her boyfriend Elliot, who’s in IT.
Cheryl is a little older than Elliot so she affectionately calls him boy or The Boy.
They braved the elements to come over for the bbq and it turned out to be a good wee night. Elliot in his naivety brought me a bottle of Guinness. It was like the Porter of olden days with a hint of cats pish in it. Still, the boy wasn’t to know.
Cheryl pronounced Sheril, is fitness fanatical, in my opinion.
She has signed up for a boot camp where they almost torture the hapless victims while making them run about in thirty odd degrees.
Actually, I don’t know who’s worse. Trainer or trainee.
Having said that though, they were both joys to meet.
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Day 50 - Wednesday 24 Feb
When we first came to Melbourne, Trevor drove us through the city centre. I spotted the gateways adorning and welcoming one and all to Chinatown.
Today we would spend our time in town and have a late lunch in Chinatown. Where else would you expect to get a decent chinky?
The tallest building in Melbourne is the Eureka Building nowadays.
If you look at the link it will tell you about this 88th floor view of Melbourne and much more.
We went here today.
The lift zoomed us up the 88 floors in under 40 seconds, coming to rest with a satisfied woooosh.
It’s scary enough looking out through the windows at the city and environs sprawling out a thousand odd feet below.
The whole visitor experience is run with military like precision.
There are people to show you into the lifts.
There are people to take you from the lift to the viewing area about ten metres away.
And there are people to get you into the cube.
Well other people at any rate.
Not us.
We all chickened out.
The world looked thoroughly small from our lookout floor way above.
The thought of just a glass floor between us and a sickening thud a thousand feet immediately below put us off a bit.
Not to worry though, it was another great experience.
My God, the things I put Margaret through….
All this exploring and bricking it made us a little hungry. It really was too late for lunch and too early for dinner. We decided to head over to Chinatown anyway.
On our way over we called into Myer.
Margaret had seen a dress she liked about three or four weeks ago and still hadn’t forgotten it. Dam.
After traipsing around this very large store we came upon it.
It was a nice wee dress on the hanger, but when M tried it on she proclaimed to be like a beg of shite.
Out again into the sunshine, and a gentle stroll up to find somewhere nice to eat.
We began to despair, because the good looking places with good looking menus were all closed for the afternoon.
We walked on, and our eyes were caught by the sight of a wee Chinese female teenager, sheltering from the sun under her Grannies umbrella.
She stood outside the restaurant touting for trade.
We decided to give it a try. Yes it was trying. The owner was even more belligerent than I can be at Boucher. When he was taking our order, he seemed to be saying hurry up frig you. Under his breath and also in Mandarin.
Wontons and Spring rolls for starters, good job we ate them when we did because a split second more of cooking would have rendered them totally inedible. Instead of just barely edible.
M had beef in black bean sauce, and a happy bunny she was too. I had Duck in Soy like sauce, it too was delicious. Nicola had chicken in some sort of sauce. Maybe sauce is a bad choice of word. Hers looked like poached strips of chicken served in a by-product off a sperm bank.
Not a happy bunny.
Of all the places in the entire world, where you would expect to eat genuinely nice Chinese food I thought this would do the job.
Maybe it was genuine.
Maybe the beautiful food we had in David’s, a Chinese near Nicolas’ was genuine.
I know which we’d all go back to.
Chinatown in Melbourne has to be worth a punt. Our experience would not put me off. But, I’d never go back to eat outside normal restaurant hours. That’s the secret.
Today we would spend our time in town and have a late lunch in Chinatown. Where else would you expect to get a decent chinky?
The tallest building in Melbourne is the Eureka Building nowadays.
If you look at the link it will tell you about this 88th floor view of Melbourne and much more.
We went here today.
The lift zoomed us up the 88 floors in under 40 seconds, coming to rest with a satisfied woooosh.
It’s scary enough looking out through the windows at the city and environs sprawling out a thousand odd feet below.
The whole visitor experience is run with military like precision.
There are people to show you into the lifts.
There are people to take you from the lift to the viewing area about ten metres away.
And there are people to get you into the cube.
Well other people at any rate.
Not us.
We all chickened out.
The world looked thoroughly small from our lookout floor way above.
The thought of just a glass floor between us and a sickening thud a thousand feet immediately below put us off a bit.
Not to worry though, it was another great experience.
My God, the things I put Margaret through….
All this exploring and bricking it made us a little hungry. It really was too late for lunch and too early for dinner. We decided to head over to Chinatown anyway.
On our way over we called into Myer.
Margaret had seen a dress she liked about three or four weeks ago and still hadn’t forgotten it. Dam.
After traipsing around this very large store we came upon it.
It was a nice wee dress on the hanger, but when M tried it on she proclaimed to be like a beg of shite.
Out again into the sunshine, and a gentle stroll up to find somewhere nice to eat.
We began to despair, because the good looking places with good looking menus were all closed for the afternoon.
We walked on, and our eyes were caught by the sight of a wee Chinese female teenager, sheltering from the sun under her Grannies umbrella.
She stood outside the restaurant touting for trade.
We decided to give it a try. Yes it was trying. The owner was even more belligerent than I can be at Boucher. When he was taking our order, he seemed to be saying hurry up frig you. Under his breath and also in Mandarin.
Wontons and Spring rolls for starters, good job we ate them when we did because a split second more of cooking would have rendered them totally inedible. Instead of just barely edible.
M had beef in black bean sauce, and a happy bunny she was too. I had Duck in Soy like sauce, it too was delicious. Nicola had chicken in some sort of sauce. Maybe sauce is a bad choice of word. Hers looked like poached strips of chicken served in a by-product off a sperm bank.
Not a happy bunny.
Of all the places in the entire world, where you would expect to eat genuinely nice Chinese food I thought this would do the job.
Maybe it was genuine.
Maybe the beautiful food we had in David’s, a Chinese near Nicolas’ was genuine.
I know which we’d all go back to.
Chinatown in Melbourne has to be worth a punt. Our experience would not put me off. But, I’d never go back to eat outside normal restaurant hours. That’s the secret.
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Day 49 - Tuesday 23 Feb
There is a very big monument in Melbourne.
It is recognition of the fallen in the two great wars.
It is known simply, as The Shrine.
It stands on a hill by the St. Kilda Road.
Right beside the Royal Botanic Gardens.
It is also very impressive.
We decided to have a day walking around the Shrine and Botanic Gardens.
The shrine is well worth a visit, even if only to stand in silent solidarity with the spirits of those that shaped our lives as we know them today.
It was designed by servicemen after their return from the theatres of war in Europe nearly one hundred years ago.
Please have a look at the link, I believe it’s very important to remember these things the way other races remember their own tragedies.
This is truly an international destination for tourists, according to the message boards and literature on the site.
The gardens, which also house the Planetarium are enormous. We tried to do them justice, but the legs were walked of us. We went for lunch in the park café and found it to be really dear.
Never mind though, because later Nicola showed us the hidden gem of St. Kilda that is The Local.
For all us beer lovers, real ale that is, and lagers as well, there is a very good link.
We were in here a few times and the weather was always pleasant enough to allow us to sit on the roof area in the open air. A bit like a beer garden upstairs.
Again a place with a predominantly young crowd.
At this time I must disclose something that has just this minute come to me.
The reason most places seem to have a young crowd is simply because they are all a lot younger than me. Oh my God, very soon the first digit of my age will be a six. Maybe I’ve been knocking about with old people too long, because I certainly don’t feel old.
Except when I have to kneel.
Or run.
Or stay up late.
Or do vigorous stuff.
What’s that?
That’s all the time?
Doesn’t matter. The climb up the stairs for the lovely beer was well worth it.
They have literally hundreds of different beers here, in fact they even have a booklet naming them all.
I got through a few of them, but if I’m ever back in the area again, this will certainly be on my wish list.
If I remember.
Prue and Webber. Now, they are names to conjure with. I believe them to be Prudence and Webbo, short for Webster. Like the guy in Coronation Street.
They came a calling tonight with their gorgeous wee daughter Eugenie, she’s about 6 months I think.
Webbos people are farming folk and I was anxious to know how the livestock survived the harsh arid summers, when the grass was tinder dry.
He explained that it worked out well because they only put so many cattle or sheep per acre so that they would all get sufficient to do them.
Mind you the farms, and the paddocks (very big fields to us) are a lot bigger than what we know.
Prue had a really interesting job. Although she was working from home now, because she had Eugenie, her job was in PR.
She worked with Mercedes so she got to meet the Formula one boys at the Grand Prix. She even had them up in the Eureka Tower, but as she told me it wasn’t so good because she is petrified of heights!
A charming couple who seem to have the hard work ethos at the fore in their young lives.
It is recognition of the fallen in the two great wars.
It is known simply, as The Shrine.
It stands on a hill by the St. Kilda Road.
Right beside the Royal Botanic Gardens.
It is also very impressive.
We decided to have a day walking around the Shrine and Botanic Gardens.
The shrine is well worth a visit, even if only to stand in silent solidarity with the spirits of those that shaped our lives as we know them today.
It was designed by servicemen after their return from the theatres of war in Europe nearly one hundred years ago.
Please have a look at the link, I believe it’s very important to remember these things the way other races remember their own tragedies.
This is truly an international destination for tourists, according to the message boards and literature on the site.
The gardens, which also house the Planetarium are enormous. We tried to do them justice, but the legs were walked of us. We went for lunch in the park café and found it to be really dear.
Never mind though, because later Nicola showed us the hidden gem of St. Kilda that is The Local.
For all us beer lovers, real ale that is, and lagers as well, there is a very good link.
We were in here a few times and the weather was always pleasant enough to allow us to sit on the roof area in the open air. A bit like a beer garden upstairs.
Again a place with a predominantly young crowd.
At this time I must disclose something that has just this minute come to me.
The reason most places seem to have a young crowd is simply because they are all a lot younger than me. Oh my God, very soon the first digit of my age will be a six. Maybe I’ve been knocking about with old people too long, because I certainly don’t feel old.
Except when I have to kneel.
Or run.
Or stay up late.
Or do vigorous stuff.
What’s that?
That’s all the time?
Doesn’t matter. The climb up the stairs for the lovely beer was well worth it.
They have literally hundreds of different beers here, in fact they even have a booklet naming them all.
I got through a few of them, but if I’m ever back in the area again, this will certainly be on my wish list.
If I remember.
Prue and Webber. Now, they are names to conjure with. I believe them to be Prudence and Webbo, short for Webster. Like the guy in Coronation Street.
They came a calling tonight with their gorgeous wee daughter Eugenie, she’s about 6 months I think.
Webbos people are farming folk and I was anxious to know how the livestock survived the harsh arid summers, when the grass was tinder dry.
He explained that it worked out well because they only put so many cattle or sheep per acre so that they would all get sufficient to do them.
Mind you the farms, and the paddocks (very big fields to us) are a lot bigger than what we know.
Prue had a really interesting job. Although she was working from home now, because she had Eugenie, her job was in PR.
She worked with Mercedes so she got to meet the Formula one boys at the Grand Prix. She even had them up in the Eureka Tower, but as she told me it wasn’t so good because she is petrified of heights!
A charming couple who seem to have the hard work ethos at the fore in their young lives.
Monday, February 22, 2010
Day 48 - Monday 22 Feb
I think Nicola is at her wits end trying to keep us occupied, so she is delighted at the prospect of the day out organised by our new friends John and Marlene.
John came to pick us up and brought us back to his house. This is an impressive bungalow, probably the most impressive home we’ve been in here. Perfect for a growing family, and a nice wee pension provider for those of more advanced years.
After a wee drop of tea and incessant chat from the ladies, we went on our travels,
Our journey took us to Flinders, Arthurs Seat and a nice, but much Anglicized pub called the Pig ‘n Whistle. This is wine growing country, and we’d been here with Nicola and Trevor in the first week of our holiday.
A nice lunch here, set us up for the afternoon leg, where we would find small coastal places of interest. Even though it was fairly late summer, a lot of places were closed. Finding a decent coffee shop was proving to be difficult. Still, John drove on regardless, taking us to places that had caught his attention in previous times.
We arrived back at HQ about seven,
Time to kick off the shoes and relax, a wee drink and yes, some cricket.
John came to pick us up and brought us back to his house. This is an impressive bungalow, probably the most impressive home we’ve been in here. Perfect for a growing family, and a nice wee pension provider for those of more advanced years.
After a wee drop of tea and incessant chat from the ladies, we went on our travels,
Our journey took us to Flinders, Arthurs Seat and a nice, but much Anglicized pub called the Pig ‘n Whistle. This is wine growing country, and we’d been here with Nicola and Trevor in the first week of our holiday.
A nice lunch here, set us up for the afternoon leg, where we would find small coastal places of interest. Even though it was fairly late summer, a lot of places were closed. Finding a decent coffee shop was proving to be difficult. Still, John drove on regardless, taking us to places that had caught his attention in previous times.
We arrived back at HQ about seven,
Time to kick off the shoes and relax, a wee drink and yes, some cricket.
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Day 47 - Sunday at Lynott Street.
This is where it could go a bit awry.
Last night we had a good old drink to celebrate Wye and its memories.
I think Trevor went out with some friends.
I spent a long time today thinking about the blog.
Maybe I should have been writing instead.
The lovely Jack and Thelma, Trevor’ parents came over for a BBQ. Wait, that doesn’t happen until Saturday I think.
We met up with John and Marlene Mc Cann. These two fine people are uncle and aunt to Alan, our son in law.
I think Trevor was under pressure because he had a rain check, preferring the solitude of Lynott Street to the throngs that were up where the Sunday morning Art and Craft market is held.
After a trawl around and up and down the market we just went for a couple of drinks down on the foreshore. The Beachcombers was to be our pub of choice. Sitting right by the beach it was chocca on this fine Sunday afternoon. A lot of families seem to meet up for lunch and or drinks here. Anyway, another fine link to view more on this place.
It was strange talking to Marlene, she’s a girl that has been out of Belfast for thirty nine years, yet, if you closed your eyes you would think it was her sister Jennifer talking. And she’s still there! In Belfast I mean.
We had a few wee drinks, John and I mostly watched the people and enjoyed the scenery, while the girls had a right wee chinwag.
Turns out they lived off the main highway that almost passes Nicolas’, place how’s that for convenience.
We agreed for John to come and pick us up in the morning to go for a wee drive up to the peninsula probably.
Last night we had a good old drink to celebrate Wye and its memories.
I think Trevor went out with some friends.
I spent a long time today thinking about the blog.
Maybe I should have been writing instead.
The lovely Jack and Thelma, Trevor’ parents came over for a BBQ. Wait, that doesn’t happen until Saturday I think.
We met up with John and Marlene Mc Cann. These two fine people are uncle and aunt to Alan, our son in law.
I think Trevor was under pressure because he had a rain check, preferring the solitude of Lynott Street to the throngs that were up where the Sunday morning Art and Craft market is held.
After a trawl around and up and down the market we just went for a couple of drinks down on the foreshore. The Beachcombers was to be our pub of choice. Sitting right by the beach it was chocca on this fine Sunday afternoon. A lot of families seem to meet up for lunch and or drinks here. Anyway, another fine link to view more on this place.
It was strange talking to Marlene, she’s a girl that has been out of Belfast for thirty nine years, yet, if you closed your eyes you would think it was her sister Jennifer talking. And she’s still there! In Belfast I mean.
We had a few wee drinks, John and I mostly watched the people and enjoyed the scenery, while the girls had a right wee chinwag.
Turns out they lived off the main highway that almost passes Nicolas’, place how’s that for convenience.
We agreed for John to come and pick us up in the morning to go for a wee drive up to the peninsula probably.
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