OUR LAST DAY IN IRELAND. HEAVY RAIN was forecast overnight and during the day, and remembering the floods that had preceded our arrival by a day, the floods that just missed us as we drove around Dublin on our way to Belfast, and the torrents that we’d driven through on our visit to the Giant’s Causeway, we’d gone to bed apprehensive that the basement carpark might flood overnight.
But come the morning, all was well, and we managed to leave the apartment early enough to drive to Lisburn and visit the Linen Museum shop. We didn’t have time to see the museum itself, unfortunately, but we bought some Irish linen: “natural” placemats and serviettes, and a white embroidered and lace-trimmed traycloth for Margaret to use as dressing table runner.
We drove back to Belfast, and to the ferry terminal, where we had a long wait in obedience to the instruction, on our tickets, to be there 90 minutes before departure. There were a couple of columns of cars there already, but how virtuous we felt as, over the next hour or so, car after car drove up and was shepherded into column after additional column. Come loading time, we were last to drive aboard, which we thought would stand us in good stead for being first off at the other end.
Shoulda known better. The crossing itself was uneventful (we got some magneti of the ferry!), but when we got to Stranraer, ours was the last vehicle but two, and last car but one, to be let off the boat. We felt like emailing the ferry company and telling them where to stick their “ninety minutes before sailing”!
Still, no harm was done, and the drive through the Scottish countryside from Stranraer down to Carlisle, and through England from there to Acton and home, was as uneventful as the crossing—for us, at least. Our route from Stranraer took us eastwards along the A75, skirting to the south of Newton Stewart, and from there along the scenic A712 tourist route called “The Queen’s Way” (in commemoration of her Silver Jubilee in 1977). It was about 20 minutes out of Newton Stewart that we heard on the traffic reports that the road there was now closed in both directions due to a very nasty accident at the intersection of the A75 and the north-south A714.
But come the morning, all was well, and we managed to leave the apartment early enough to drive to Lisburn and visit the Linen Museum shop. We didn’t have time to see the museum itself, unfortunately, but we bought some Irish linen: “natural” placemats and serviettes, and a white embroidered and lace-trimmed traycloth for Margaret to use as dressing table runner.
We drove back to Belfast, and to the ferry terminal, where we had a long wait in obedience to the instruction, on our tickets, to be there 90 minutes before departure. There were a couple of columns of cars there already, but how virtuous we felt as, over the next hour or so, car after car drove up and was shepherded into column after additional column. Come loading time, we were last to drive aboard, which we thought would stand us in good stead for being first off at the other end.
Shoulda known better. The crossing itself was uneventful (we got some magneti of the ferry!), but when we got to Stranraer, ours was the last vehicle but two, and last car but one, to be let off the boat. We felt like emailing the ferry company and telling them where to stick their “ninety minutes before sailing”!
Still, no harm was done, and the drive through the Scottish countryside from Stranraer down to Carlisle, and through England from there to Acton and home, was as uneventful as the crossing—for us, at least. Our route from Stranraer took us eastwards along the A75, skirting to the south of Newton Stewart, and from there along the scenic A712 tourist route called “The Queen’s Way” (in commemoration of her Silver Jubilee in 1977). It was about 20 minutes out of Newton Stewart that we heard on the traffic reports that the road there was now closed in both directions due to a very nasty accident at the intersection of the A75 and the north-south A714.
We got home about 9:30 p.m., tired after 2,300 miles of travel, but happy, and with some pretty linen, a small clutch of bookmarks, a larger clutch of fridge magnets, a pretty vase, some whistles, several books, a mountain of photos, and an ocean of memories.
It was three days later that the floods hit Belfast … “Some places in central and eastern Northern Ireland saw up to three-quarters of the August rainfall in a single day,” and the newly-built Broadway Underpass was under 5m of water. We were sorry for the Irish people who were affected, and so glad to be back at home.
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