Lost confused and looking for Inspiration - Stage 2

Everything I asked him for is done, profile, archives and links down the side and great colours. He is totally one of the most bestest webpage guys I know-He may be the only web page guy I know but he is the best.

Thanks Stan, you made me look all growed up!

K sucked contentedly on his fag as I searched the immediate area for a toilet and a way back to the shiny bars and places of alcoholic temptation, sadly it looked like the only way in to the Promised Land was through the check out. I flipped open my phone with the intention of texting Marci to tell her we would be outside and spotted the little icon that tells me someone has called and I’ve not heard the phone – which is nearly always there because I constantly forget to switch my phone on. Low and behold there was a message from Marci to say they had been delayed at least an hour, maybe an hour and a half – ARGGGHHGHGGHG and no toilets in sight!

In a valiant effort to get back into alcohol heaven we sneaked through the no entrance/exit doors and made a dash back up the corridor. But no further than 10 meters into our dash and a soft lilting “Stop – you cannot go back up this corridor” resounded from some unseen speaker - Foiled Morriarty! Not wanting to cause an international incident we turned tail and dashed back down the corridor through the exit doors and stood whistling and tapping our feet in the “wasn’t me” pose struck by all non-innocents.

Back in the smallish space that was now even more devoid of personality and warmth we were forced to wait with menace for the elderly and infirm to vacate one of the plastic chairs. Whilst one especially infirm elderly lady tottered towards the confectionary machine I slipped in like a pouncey thing and stole her seat – Ha! Book out and bottom comfy I happily ignored the stares and hurtful whispers of those around me.

The space slowly emptied and soon it was only K and I sat waiting, with the occasional person coming in to greet a smiley traveller and quickly depart. The arrivals monitor was telling us that the planes from Gatwick and Luton were delayed again and not due in till 11.40. The elderly and infirm gone I felt it was to leave my seat and I investigated the confectionary machine and stocked up on supplies better safe than sorry. K went out and investigated toilets and was informed that you could go through check out if you needed to use the smallest room in the airport! However before I could avail myself of a chocolate goodie two smiling faces walked through the doors, Marci and Annie had flown from Bristol – Smiles and hugs all round. There was much laughter when Annie informed us we could have gone through check in and waited in the bar – Oh how I grimaced!!!

The 45 min journey was full of catch up news – the best of all was that Marci has actually sold her Balham flat. Annie did a guided tour in the dark, we asked intelligent questions and peered into the darkness. Now I’m probably going to get this wrong, cause that’s me, we were staying in Graeme and Annie’s Grandma’s house that was based in Bally carrie – the local off licence much to K’s amusement was called “Bally Carrie Out”.

More plans for the foiling
Over a bottle of wine or two it was discussed that Graeme would be joining us sometime tomorrow for a BBQ being held at PawLEEN’s (Pauline – but said with enthusiastic Irish accent), a friend of Annie’s. Annie had booked two tarot readings, one for myself and one for her, also to be done at PawLEEN’s house.

In the loosest possible way it was decided that tomorrow, Saturday, we were going to do some Shannon sightseeing and then Annie and I would fit in our respective readings, we would then locate a bar and K could try some real Guinness, we had to meet up with Frank - Annie's Dad - and Annie also wanted to fit in a visit with Grandma, later on in the evening we were to return to PawLEEN’s for the BBQ. Phew – I’m so glad we weren’t trying to fit too much into one day!

Wine drunk, beds assigned and heated blankets switched on we retired to bed sometime between 1am and 3am – not quite sure which - with promises of early rising and clear heads.

9.30 we were all up if not awake and ready for the offing. Annie kindly took me back to my old haunts of 81. We past Palace Barracks and Redburn Primary School, we visited the harbour where I would often swim as a small blue child and travelled up the main street of Holywood. I was spooked by images familiar and yet strange, this small town at first so different from my childhood memories occasionally forced feelings of Déjà vu as we passed monuments and buildings that I recognised.

The Bay where I would swim as a small blue child.

Annie’s reading was delayed so we decided our best option was for Marci, K and me to visit a local hosteller and pur-chase some real “Oirish Guinness” whilst Annie went for her reading - This we did and yes D_man it very goodly black stuff!

Annie picked us all up after several pints of the black stuff and we went off for my reading. I wont bore you all with the details needless to say Romeana (SP) was brilliant, she knew lots, advised more and set my head a spinning - If you need more information call and I will bore you stupid!

We set off to another village to meet Frank – Graeme and Annie’s Pappy – and had a pleasant time a chatting in yet another “O-irish” pub, talking about Hemp and its uses, then we returned back to the Grandma’s place to ready ourselves for the BBQ.

PawLEEN is a huge character who can be summed up as a cross between Mystic Meg and Vanessa – she greeted us all as long lost friends, fake nails flashing in the light “Dharlings your so welcome” and filled our glasses up several times with “bubbly”. In no time at all we were fed, watered and amused by our newfound friends.

Graeme wasn’t going to show, because he wasn’t feeling too well, but I think the numerous phone calls from Marci, myself but mainly PawLEEEN drove him from his duvet and he joined us for a couple of drinks and a bite to eat. It was during this time that a motorbike ride was mentioned and I in my fetish driven state jumped upon the idea of me leaving with Graeme early Sunday morning for a speed driven tour up the coast. Marci in her loveliness agreed to drive K at a more “pleasant and sedate” time and pace with the four of us meeting up at some non-determined point and time - Ahha my sort of plan!

This decided, Graeme left and Anthony, I think his name was, falling into the BBQ in a drunken “I’m not drunk” sort of way meant that our departure was fairly imminent. Marci trying to convince us that we needed to call the fire brigade to put out the fire on PawLEEN’s deck caused much amusement!

Back at Grannies place we decided as Annie had only been slightly drinking it was only fair that we got her caught up with us, so wine and G&T’s flowed. Somewhere between taking 48 pictures in a down periscope type motion and crashing out on the kitchen floor I did what Annie termed as a very amusing impersonation of someone who has forgotten to put their helmet visor down whilst travelling on the back of a motorbike.

I wont bore you with all 48 photos, but

Going

Going

Going

almost

Gone

Unbelievably I was up by the allotted time of 9.30 to greet Graeme, who had kindly come with leathers aplenty. After donning said leather trousers and jacket I was taken outside and introduced to Graemes bike.

Pst - are you allowed to sit pillion this drunk?

Four Bikes – Had to stand this far back because of the drooling.

Marci was called and I was happily informed that the two of them had only just left - eye lashes battering like some 18th Century virgin and smile beaming I convinced – didn’t take much – Graeme to take me on further up the coast to the Giants Causeway.

Morning ride over, Garry and Kevin (I think) climbed upon their bikes and sped off into the distance. As we had so much spare time John decided to join Graeme and I on a “Wee walk” so we walked down to this totally idyllic point

and listened to the birds.

Views appreciated and goodbyes said John headed back to the family, whilst Graeme and I headed further up the coast.

I think we stopped here for ice cream, this could be Bally Craig (but I left my postcard at Graeme’s so not too sure - UPDATE - Graeme tells me this was Ballintoy) and we had a heart to heart, we discussed our readings, our relationships and much advice was given and listened to – thanks G!

Back on the bike we took in the smallest church in Ireland - A small brick building about 8ft by 12 ft with pews and altar located in a small harbour port (UPDATE Port Bradden)– Only in Ireland!

The last leg of the journey up the coast to the Giants Causeway was done at speed but remarkably safely, Graeme is an excellent motorcyclist and I felt completed at home, in heaven and happy.

As we pulled into the car park Marci and K were just paying for their entrance fee. We slipped round the side and got in for free – tee hee! Graeme sadly needed to get back home to meet up with friends and organise stuff for the BBQ at Franks later on in the day. Goodbyes and hugs made I patted the beast one last time and headed off with Marci and K for more ice cream – hey a girl has to console herself some how!

We contemplated getting the bus down to the causeway but decided to go for the healthy walk option – down hill is always easier than up. I have visited this strange tourist site as a kid and was again hit by the sense of déjà vu of coming back to somewhere you’ve visited a long time ago. The sun was out and it was an inspiring, but small, site – sorry to sound so American, for better pictures please visit the site.

But here's a few from me:

Chimney Pots - Really - they do look a bit like chimney pots.

Marci walking her way through a bottle of wine

The return journey was contemplated and we decided to walk back to the car to luncheon on the picnic Annie had kindly prepared. K and Marci were supposed to pick up cheese and mayo for sandwiches but hadn't, I scoffed my egg just as the bread was produced, so we had to get creative with our fillings. K informed us that “mango butties were the new big thing!" Bellies full again we then had to decide whether to go and visit the

Bush Mills or the Rope bridge

. Obviously Bush Mills was the preferred site to visit but we were running short of time and it seemed a good reason to come back and visit some other time, so with Marci as driver we set off for the Rope bridge.

Now it seems this magnificent bridge was set up by two fishermen however I couldn’t shake off the image of two of Irelands finest having this conversations whilst imbibing a pot of the black stuff.

Paddy - “Shamus, if we strung a rope from the main island to to our wee island, do you tink we could get t’ tourists to pay for’t?” (Sorry sounds more Yorkshire than Irish)
Shamus – “to be sure Paddy, after’all don’t we get them to buy canned Guinness?”

It was a long walk to the bridge and not as scary as a stupid American tourist made it out to be whilst screaming at the top of her lungs “Ohhh my God, it’s a bridge, its Rope, its moving” DOH – go figure!

However the view was fantastic, I just hope Marcie’s pictures came out better than mine.

Back on the main island we bundled back into the car and headed off for Whitehead to meet up with Graeme, we caught him on the main street and followed him back to Franks where we had a very pleasant evening eating, drinking Oh and you got it - chatting.

Frank is an amazing bloke who did 80 odd missions in the second world war as a fighter pilot – still waters run deep an all that - their house is so impressive with a Belfast view and friendly cows!


Rosebank

Graeme left early on to meet up with friends and we followed for last orders, which we thought were 10.30, however on breaking into the pub we discovered it was 10pm. Irish charm came to the rescue and procured for us three pints of Guinness and a diet coke for Marci. More chat, more laughter and long tales and we eventually left the pub with hugs, farewells and “be sure t’ come back soon’s”.

Graeme had made plans to pick K and I up for 6.30 to get us to the airport for our 7.30 flight therefore an early night was called for however back at Grannies we decided that the alcohol in the house needed to be finished - it going off so easily an all. When going to bed I think I remember the face on the clock looking like it could have been very similar to a clock doing an impersonation of a clock showing 4am, but obviously it wouldn’t have been 4am because I was supposed to be up at 6am. Graeme picked us up – ON TIME – and dropped us off at the airport with more hugs and sad farewells.

All in all it was one fabultastic weekend full of new friends, renewed friendships, big bikes and shed loads of alcohol – when can I go back!!!!