My place or yours

View from Drumkeerin at 5:10 am today


John and Laura attacking Dunluce Castle across the drawbridge on Monday


Dana, John and Mike at the Giant's Causeway on Monday


John, Laura and Mike cross the rope bridge at Carrick-a-Rede (John in black, Laura in white, Mike in brown


Mike at Torr Head, an abandoned Coast Guard station, in his favorite pose, Scotland in the distance

Let me start out this multi-day blog post by saying my health is about the same, minor mucositis in my mouth but increasing annoyance with my eyes, whcih gets worse as the day goes on. Driving after 8pm requires lots of eye lubricant.

Tuesday 8 am, been up since 5:30, second crowing. Yesterday we did visit Dunluce Castle, the Giant's Causeway, Torr Head and other scenic spots along the Antrim Coast, all too beautiful. Scotland is only 14 miles away and can easily be seen if it is clear. It rained on and off almost all day.

BIRDS

by Moira O'Neill - that was the pseudonym of Agnes Shakespeare Higginson (1864 - 1955), a popular Irish-Canadian poet who wrote ballads and other verse inspired by County Antrim, where she lived at Cushendun.

She also used the name Nesta. She published Songs of the Glens of Antrim (1900) and More Songs of the Glens of Antrim (1921).

Sure maybe ye've heard the storm-thrush
Whistlin' bould in March,
Before there's a primrose peepin' out,
Or a wee red cone on the larch;
Whistlin' the sun to come out o' the cloud,
An' the wind to come over the sea,
But for all he can whistle so clear an' loud,
He's never the bird for me.

Sure maybe ye've seen the song-thrush
After an April rain
Slip from in-undher the drippin' leaves,
Wishful to sing again;
An' low wi' love when he's near the nest,
An' loud from the top o' the tree,
But for all he can flutter the heart in your breast,
He's never the bird for me.

Sure maybe ye've heard the cushadoo
Callin' his mate in May,
When one sweet thought is the whole of his life,
An' he tells it the one sweet way.
But my heart is sore at the cushadoo
Filled wid his own soft glee,
Over an' over his "me an' you!"
He's never the bird for me.

Sure maybe ye've heard the red-breast
Singin' his lone on a thorn,
Mindin' himself o' the dear days lost,
Brave wid his heart forlorn.
The time is in dark November,
An' no spring hopes has he:
"Remember," he sings, "remember!"
Ay, thon's the wee bird for me.

Wednesday, 9 am
I got up at 6:30, I think the rooster slept in! The other rooster too! The laptop just wiped out an hours work I did on Michaela's wedding vows, &^$$%*&^^*$. Those stupid little touch pads on laptops right where your thumbs land, grrrrrrrrrrrrr.

It rained all day yesterday, cows and sheep. With family tensions running high, we were able to sit down and clear the air and try to make the second half of our trip better than the first half. Dana has worked so hard to put us where we'll have fun, but that means the kids have little control over where they are going or what they will see. My clutch is slipping a lot, so I taped my shifter into neutral, let's hope that tape holds.

As I said, it rained cows and sheep, but at 5pm or so it stopped, with puddles of lamb chops and steaks everywhere. I decided to chance it and hike down into town for milk and sausage for dinner, even though the sky was grey and it was very windy. Everyone else was locked into lounging. On Tuesday I forgot the ponchos, which were needed. This time I would be prepared, I put on my thermal silks, long-sleeve shirt, microfiber jacket, and jacket, packed the poncho and rain pants, and stepped outside. The sun was shining, so down the hill I went. I was plenty warm within about 300 yards. I walked along the beach and to the store, the wind stopped, and by the time I had hiked back up the hill I was sweating peat bogs, and had shed a few layers, making the pack weigh even more.

Today we are planning to go into Londonderry, see the sights, and try to switch the car for something bigger like the Galaxy we had, for space and so I don't have to convert KPH to MPH. I went out last night to a bigger grocery in the next town, and was befuddled when what I thought was the police were following me, trying to figure out if I was speeding or going slow. It wasn''t the cops. In this whole trip I have seen maybe five police on the roads. They do have cameras all over the place taking your picture if you speed, so we're not home free yet.

Thursday, 8 am, been up since 5am, pre-crow
I notice that the roosters crow is muted if the sky is grey, barely audible. I went to bed last night after 11, thinking I would sleep in and then be able to make it to ceilidh night at the pub, which starts at around 9 and goes to the wee hours. Hah! The Cushendall pub is famous for their ceilidh sessions, so I will tough through it.

We did go into Derry yesterday, but John stayed home with a cold, which I hope we don't all get. Derry/Londonderry is at the center of Loyalist/Unionist tensions, and that remains although tamped down. It is all reminiscent of what happened to the Native American Indians in North America, and other native peoples worldwide, the ones with lesser weapons and immunities. We have to stay above it while we are here. It was supposed to start raining at 1, and pouring at 4, but the weather holds out with a few sprinkles and that's all.

When we were on our way out to visit Londonderry, our landlord Joe was outside working. We stopped to see if he had any advice about things to see in Londonderry, and he said ‘You are not going to Londonderry.’ We are befuddled, but he adds ‘You are going to Derry.’ Turns out he was born and lived in Derry for many years, and knew of what he spoke. He is still irritated that the English came over in the early 1600s and uprooted the Irish, taking their lands and giving them to Scottish and English ‘planters’ or settlers. To honor the London livery merchants that funded the final taking and settling of Derry, the English renamed the place Londonderry.

We began our visit to Derry with a guided walk of the old city walls led by John M., who states at the beginning of the tour that he will present both sides of the Nationalist/Unionist conflict, but it is clear, after the first few minutes, that he sides with the Nationalists as he recounts the Bloody Sunday killings of 14 unarmed civilians during a peaceful protest and the Internment (imprisonment without trial, can you say Guantanomo) laws that fueled "The Troubles" in Northern Ireland in the 70's, 80's and early 90's.

Laura on the Walls of Derry


View of the Protestant neighborhood just outside the walls, to the east


One of the murals, this one depicting the schoolgirl killed in the crossfire. From http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bogside_Artists

After the tour we stop in a pub for tea and Guinness in the old town center, the unionist/protestant part of Derry. All the tables are taken, but there is one table that has a beer but no person, so I ask an older man sitting alone at the next table if this unoccupied table is taken. He tells me it is, but says we can sit with him if we’d like. We take him up on the offer.

Our new friend’s name is Mervin, and I order him another pint to loosen the tongue. He didn’t need it. He is a friendly but sort of sad man, drinking alone. He is maybe in his mid-sixties, retired from the military and civil service. He has a ruddy face and tousled hair, and is slightly drunk. He asks where we are from, and then laments how the British "lost" America and talks about how we Americans honor our flag in the US. We ask if he is Irish, and he says we could call him that, but he is ‘British Irish.’ Now this is tricky ground, and we want to remain impartial observers, so we tread lightly. This is a man that may have been part of the military force that kept Derry/Londonderry in the rule of the U.K.

We get to the Tower Museum just as it closes, a crying shame. Dana and Laura go off for some shopping, and Mike and I go to explore the Guild Hall, the building where the Honorable Irish Society (London merchants that funded the settling of Derry) meets. This building has some spectacular stained glass windows, ornate meeting rooms, and a huge pipe organ. We have so many pictures I need to get something on Picasa or somewhere.

Stained glass in the Guild Hall Assembly Room


The pipe organ in the Guild Hall

Today is a knock around day, and we may try to ride bikes around to save Dana's foot, but the local roads might be terrifying on a bike. Or, I may talk Mike into a walk into Cushendall through countryside, a round trip of about ten miles. Tomorrow, Belfast.