Musings from the Merse
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Just back from the Emerald Isle aka Norn Iron. Sadly no golf as my right leg is playing up so had to be satisfied with short walks and cold smoothies. And the return trip on Stena HSS is the way to go if you can afford the ten quid for Stena Plus lounge and all the cold Chardonnay you can drink free. No back in the Small House in Duns
Labels: Norn Iron
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Excuse me Sir, Where am I ?
When Huttonian was a lad the travel from Norn Iron to south of the Border was tedious if not hazardous. You had to actually import your car into the Republic even if you were off to Dundalk for the afternoon to top up your meat ration-8 pence worth -old money- per person in the UK a week. Across the wild frontier meat was widely available and no hint of rationing.Later on with the Troubles in full swing there were military check points and road blocks to contend with. Customs stations, production of passports and often thorough searches of your vehicle.Any suspicious looking Paddy would often get the full treatment from a British squaddy. Most of the minor roads were 'unapproved' and in several cases bridges crossing streams on the border were destroyed and /or physically blocked. One other indication of what country you were in was the state of the roads. Up here good; down there awful.
Now all that has gone. No visible frontier.No customs (EU of course) and only indication is when post boxes change from Red to Green, the speed signs switch to kilometres and the signposts have Irish as the primary tongue; also fuel prices in Euro and much cheaper than the UK, and, oh yes,the trunk roads dramatically improve once your are out of the Six Counties.
The image above (click to enlarge) is the exact point that Norn Iron in a political sense begins on the Carlingford (County Louth) Newry (County Down)Two give a ways: 60mph speed limit and the graffiti. Nota Bene this area, close to the border is one of the recruiting grounds of the Real IRA; (the reference to British prisons in Lithuania eludes me for the moment)
And I'll try to keep it that way.
So now you know how, when, across the Irish Sea, to work out whether or not you are in God's Own Country.
But which one of the two is that is a different question.
When Huttonian was a lad the travel from Norn Iron to south of the Border was tedious if not hazardous. You had to actually import your car into the Republic even if you were off to Dundalk for the afternoon to top up your meat ration-8 pence worth -old money- per person in the UK a week. Across the wild frontier meat was widely available and no hint of rationing.Later on with the Troubles in full swing there were military check points and road blocks to contend with. Customs stations, production of passports and often thorough searches of your vehicle.Any suspicious looking Paddy would often get the full treatment from a British squaddy. Most of the minor roads were 'unapproved' and in several cases bridges crossing streams on the border were destroyed and /or physically blocked. One other indication of what country you were in was the state of the roads. Up here good; down there awful.
Now all that has gone. No visible frontier.No customs (EU of course) and only indication is when post boxes change from Red to Green, the speed signs switch to kilometres and the signposts have Irish as the primary tongue; also fuel prices in Euro and much cheaper than the UK, and, oh yes,the trunk roads dramatically improve once your are out of the Six Counties.
The image above (click to enlarge) is the exact point that Norn Iron in a political sense begins on the Carlingford (County Louth) Newry (County Down)Two give a ways: 60mph speed limit and the graffiti. Nota Bene this area, close to the border is one of the recruiting grounds of the Real IRA; (the reference to British prisons in Lithuania eludes me for the moment)
And I'll try to keep it that way.
So now you know how, when, across the Irish Sea, to work out whether or not you are in God's Own Country.
But which one of the two is that is a different question.
Labels: Crossing the Border, Norn Iron
Sunday, May 24, 2009
JAM TODAY
"The Paxton curse is manifest again. This time, the darkish
blue offending vehicle of Wolfsburg construction settled on a fixed speed of
43 m.p.h. for a long, long journey before disappearing (without timely
signalling, natch) to a certain executive-housing-plagued village".
writes our motoring correspondent who was presumably intent on escaping from the Jim Clark Rally. But the occasional faffer on the B6461, however intensely irritating that can be, rather fades into insignificance when compared to the Newcastle County Down heading traffic on a Norn Iron Bank Holiday. You never have tail backs in Berwickshire, apart from the Fishwick By Pass of course and the mad rush of two fisherman past Fishwick Mains and the Farmer C rejuvenate the Merse building development. But County Down is serious stuff and even when you reach Newcastle your problems are not over as it can take half an hour to squeeze past the massed ranks of day long parkers jamming the main drag or endlessly circulating around the One Way System, radios blaring until they appaer raey to disappear up their own.... Huttonian dwells at the quiet end of town,beyond the snarl of the OWS. But to get there...You could always take a thirty five mile detour via Newry, the Stranraer of Norn Iron, minus the ferry, coming up from ther south and I am sometimes tempted.
But not yesterday. Town almost empty. Wet morning. All the day trippers had gone home.
Good riddance I say
The image may not be of Newcastle but come here on the 12th of July you would find this scene familiar
Labels: B6461, Fishwick Bypass, Norn Iron
Monday, April 20, 2009
Landscape with Faffers Huttonian had forgotten that it was Monday when standing on the first tee this morning. Mournes misty; sun hot; wind none. 7.45 am. Not another golfer in sight. Bliss. On stilts.
But it was Monday and as I crested the rise to the first green I saw the second fairway was as crowded as a G20 demo in EC1. An army of apparent faffers were moving slowly down the fairway, poking the soil with sticks and filling holes with bits of turf and sand. Not faffers as in hackers from Belfast, but faffers as in retreaded green keepers retained solely for Monday morning duties; the divot fillers.
, the hacked sod replacers, the turf fairies of the Anneseley Course (MPBUI)Fit only for a half day's work, on the 19th hole of their lives, they painfully slowly progress green wards, stopping every few seconds to fill in the collateral damage left by hordes of week end trippers 'Golfers' an inaccurate description of that species of sub human, homo faffians, the £13 green fee Genghis Khant-hit-a-ball-to save-my-life polluter who does more damage in a round of 'golf' than global warming ever managed in a decade.
I was stuck behind their resolutely collectively turned backs; shouting 'fore' pointless given the lack of a one hearing aid amongst the 12 of them. Nothing for it but to risk a drive over their heads, a mad dash past and a quick 8 iron to the green. A wonderful birdie as it happens but not one of the twelve noticed this unusual feat. The youngest, about three score years and a couple of rounds more, glanced up as I passed-grimaced at me,squinted at the cloudless light blue hazy sky, grunted at my greeting and apology and pronounced
'Looks like rain' ('hopefully' he meant)
I asked about the pock marked fairways and commiserated with the task of repairing tbe ravages of Huns who would rather die than be caught replacing their divots
'Thems good for us' he said.' No damage to repair, no pay cheque'
I carefully replaced any divots I inflicted as I went on my way; and as I did so my main emotion was not of satisfaction of a crisp 5 iron, well struck. spinning back towards the pin but a slight feeling of
guilt.
In a recession leave your divots where they lie.
You know it makes good economic sense.
Mr Darling
Labels: Golf, Newcastle, Norn Iron, Royal County Down
Saturday, April 18, 2009
NOT Spitall Beach
From Duns or Hutton, Spitall Beach is the Mecca for Borders sea seeking folk-or Coldingham at a pinch, especially pinched in the inadequate car park. If you can avoid the dog excrement-ie follow the falling tide very closely, that is. But neither, I fear, can begin to compare with the golden sands, empty and clean, of Murlough in Dundrum Bay, just north of Newcastle The images were taken today -a busy Saturday with Newcastle crammed with day trippers from Black Belfast and the beaches more or less empty. And the painting by a local artist, acquired by the eldest daughter yesterday seems to say it all. She and her sisters have ridden on this strand years ago and the painting brings it all back
Labels: Mournes, Murlough Beach, Norn Iron
Friday, April 17, 2009
MASS PAD
The days of the anti-Roman Catholic and Non-conformist penal laws have long gone in Norn Iron but there are reminders here and there . One of the most spectacular and least accessible lies on the steep slopes of Altataggart Mountain in the South Western Mournes . There is no path up the mountainside, possibly deliberately so as no doubt the 18th Century worshipers did not want to leave an easily visible trace of their activities, so you can assume that the congregation made their way individually up the steep slopes; as we did with the 8 year old grandson away in the lead.More images here
Click on the images for best effect
Yes, Yes Merse bloggees this is very much off message-back in the Borders in a weeks time
Labels: Altataggart, Mass Rock, Mournes, Norn Iron, Penal Laws
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Men of Violence
''So where are you visiting from? Asked the large man in 'Near Buy' the only 'retail outlet' a general purpose store in the Tourist neglected Harbour area. He had beaten me to the counter with his Belfast Telegraph, Sun, Mourne Observer and Down Recorder. He looked at the Guardian with disbelief : 'You read that on Holiday?'
I told him about the Borders. He said he had once nearly been to Hay on Wye. No, the Scottish Borders I explained. 'Not much going on then?' He suggested after I had told him about the pleasures of Duns.' At least we were spared the Troubles'
'You people across the water get it all wrong about the Troubles. Thems were the days.'
He exited, buried in papers.
I asked the young woman behind the counter if he was a local man.
Indeed he is
Seemed to enjoy the Bad Old Days?
'They all did'
'They?'
'The Men of Violence'
I thought of the beer belly, the wispy hair, the stoop and the pebble glasses'
'He? A Man of Violence'
'Yes'
In his Dreams'
''So where are you visiting from? Asked the large man in 'Near Buy' the only 'retail outlet' a general purpose store in the Tourist neglected Harbour area. He had beaten me to the counter with his Belfast Telegraph, Sun, Mourne Observer and Down Recorder. He looked at the Guardian with disbelief : 'You read that on Holiday?'
I told him about the Borders. He said he had once nearly been to Hay on Wye. No, the Scottish Borders I explained. 'Not much going on then?' He suggested after I had told him about the pleasures of Duns.' At least we were spared the Troubles'
'You people across the water get it all wrong about the Troubles. Thems were the days.'
He exited, buried in papers.
I asked the young woman behind the counter if he was a local man.
Indeed he is
Seemed to enjoy the Bad Old Days?
'They all did'
'They?'
'The Men of Violence'
I thought of the beer belly, the wispy hair, the stoop and the pebble glasses'
'He? A Man of Violence'
'Yes'
In his Dreams'
Labels: Men of Violence, Norn Iron, Scottish Borders
Saturday, April 11, 2009
CRAVEN COTTAGE The Royal County Down Golf Course (PBUI) has been on its present site since being laid out in 1889 by Tom Morris at a rip off cost of £4.
In the 1960s caravans started appearing in the dunes to the right of the 12th hole on the Anneseley Course (Aka No 2 Course, Ladies Course, Hen Run)Then someone built himself a permanent structure a good forty yards from the edge of the fairway (see image-click on it and you can see golfers tip toeing past)-how they got planning permission to put something which was not 'mobile' in this area I do not know but the caravans are now formally in a 'park' and a blot on the landscape they certainly are. And this is an area of Outstanding Natural Beauty! The other image is of the Mournes providing a back cloth to the course, beyond the 12th-as seen from the offending 'cottage'. The scenery looking the other way is less edifying
About a year ago some inaccurate golfer gigantically hooked his drive from the 12th tee and struck the cottage. Litigation broke out and the hole was temporally remodeled (into a short par 3) to prevent long shots from the tee so as to lessen the danger of collateral damage. Apparently an over enthusiastic player managed to strike the building with his second (or even fifteenth) shot thus provoking another rash of solicitors letters to the highheidyins of the RCCDGC (PBUI)Now the entire fairway is to to be moved to the left, virtually creating a new hole at the modest cost of not less than £250,000. It would have been better to buy the wretched target house and bull doze it into the sea. At an earlier hole-the third tee has a notice forbidding men to play off it as it is dangerously close to a row of expensive houses which have been there for the last thirty years. Men are moved forward and well to the right thus shortening and ruining an outstanding golfing hole Seeing some of the massive female golfers who infest this course in action I am not sure that the denizens of 'Dun Golfin' or 'Tired Bankin' to the left of the ladies tee are any safer than many parts of Baghdad, but there you go.
On the whole this is craven behaviour by the golfers. They are still bruised by the massive damages paid out to some chancer who managed to overturn his rented golf buggy as the hill he was driving up was 'too steep for safety' They paid up and
sold the buggies.
When I find a few very elderly golf balls I know where I am going for a bit of target practice.
See you in court
Labels: Caravanners, Damages, Norn Iron, Royal County Down
Thursday, April 09, 2009
Just idly looking out of the window as one does on wet mornings in Norn Iron I was rewarded by the sight of a sweet and gentle elderly lady being lead up the lane by her wee dog on a very long lead. She, having halted the cortege busied herself with the good citizen's task of clearing up the considerable mess around our neighbour's skip full of garden rubbish and sundry objects apparently surplus to requirements resulting from a project to turn her garden into a large area of decking. The wee dog helped by sniffing around,nosing said articles and occasionally lifting a delicate leg to add to the moisture flowing down the lane.
Task completed she headed homewards up the lane. Dog to the fore. Then stopped to contemplate an object she had missed: a large plastic pot. Tastefully pink. Stooping down holding the dog lead in her right hand she used her left to flick the pot up and away-into the neighbours garden from whence it had come-a good 15 feet vertical and about twenty horizontal.A new Olympic sport was born: flicking the garbage from full stoop.Remember; you read about it here first.
Rubbing her hand clean the pair changed direction and headed down the lane. The wee dog obliged with a celebratory crap which duly was bagged. And where did the bag go?
Sorry I missed it.
But I'll check the skip.
In case she didn't
When the rain has stopped
Labels: Newcastle, Norn Iron, Pink Pot Flicking
Wednesday, April 08, 2009
STUCK OUT
Something made Huttonian check the oil tank in our Norn Iron cottage-a bit against my better judgement as we had left a full tank of oil in October and it has only been used intermittenty ever since. Its something of a palaver There is no guage. You have to peer into the entrails with a torch standing on a rickety table clearing cobwebs with your hair. I did. Horrors -an inch left at the bottom. Another hour of heating and we would have had an empty tank and a massive air block.
I called our suppliers. 'So this is an emergency?' asked the kind lady. 'No not really but a top up today would help. 'I am on the case...I'll see what I can do, But our tankers are all busy, the day'
I resigned myself to a chilly end to the week.
10 minutes later as I returned with my Grudian the lane was mostly occupied by a large tanker. Most impressive.
'That's fantastic service' I told the driver ' Its not 20 minutes since I phoned'
He looked at me and a huge grin spread over his face:
'Its more than fantastic' he said
'It's sticking out'
Something made Huttonian check the oil tank in our Norn Iron cottage-a bit against my better judgement as we had left a full tank of oil in October and it has only been used intermittenty ever since. Its something of a palaver There is no guage. You have to peer into the entrails with a torch standing on a rickety table clearing cobwebs with your hair. I did. Horrors -an inch left at the bottom. Another hour of heating and we would have had an empty tank and a massive air block.
I called our suppliers. 'So this is an emergency?' asked the kind lady. 'No not really but a top up today would help. 'I am on the case...I'll see what I can do, But our tankers are all busy, the day'
I resigned myself to a chilly end to the week.
10 minutes later as I returned with my Grudian the lane was mostly occupied by a large tanker. Most impressive.
'That's fantastic service' I told the driver ' Its not 20 minutes since I phoned'
He looked at me and a huge grin spread over his face:
'Its more than fantastic' he said
'It's sticking out'
Labels: Newcastle, Norn Iron, The Cottage
Tuesday, April 07, 2009
Degrees of Doom
Stena Line has a customer service number on which you can access such useful information as whether your ferry plans to sail on time, whether it has been sold for scrap and most important the weather conditions in the Irish Sea. Being booked on the 1440 from Crap Town to Belfast I rang the number at 9am and got a message timed at 0400 that the Ferries were all on time (at 4am?) and that the sea conditions were 'calm'
Nearing Crap town I rang again. Message dated 0907. Ferries on time. 'You can expect a good crossing' Calm to good is downhill in Stena Speak; from one to two on the Rictus Scale. We entered the port-quite early to get out of CT. Sea conditions 'fair' Scale three. And when the captain greeted us on weighing anchor (27 tonnes since you ask) he promised us a reasonable crossing, The wife's heart sank and I hoped the ferry wouldn't.
It was dead flat. Calm on stilts and the freebie Chardonnay in Stena Plus was neither shaken
nor stirred.
And as we approached the Port of Belfast the weaather 'closed in' as in hissing down with added dreich thus rendering the capital of Norn Iron totally invisible.
Be thankful for small mercies
Stena Line has a customer service number on which you can access such useful information as whether your ferry plans to sail on time, whether it has been sold for scrap and most important the weather conditions in the Irish Sea. Being booked on the 1440 from Crap Town to Belfast I rang the number at 9am and got a message timed at 0400 that the Ferries were all on time (at 4am?) and that the sea conditions were 'calm'
Nearing Crap town I rang again. Message dated 0907. Ferries on time. 'You can expect a good crossing' Calm to good is downhill in Stena Speak; from one to two on the Rictus Scale. We entered the port-quite early to get out of CT. Sea conditions 'fair' Scale three. And when the captain greeted us on weighing anchor (27 tonnes since you ask) he promised us a reasonable crossing, The wife's heart sank and I hoped the ferry wouldn't.
It was dead flat. Calm on stilts and the freebie Chardonnay in Stena Plus was neither shaken
nor stirred.
And as we approached the Port of Belfast the weaather 'closed in' as in hissing down with added dreich thus rendering the capital of Norn Iron totally invisible.
Be thankful for small mercies
Labels: Crap Towns, Norn Iron, Stena, Stranraer
Sunday, April 05, 2009
NO NO THE BALL NOT THE VIEW
as Jack McGloughlin my first golf teacher used to tell me
Yes it's that time of the year again when Huttonian (and a slightly reluctant wife) upsticks (or clubs) and heads off to Norn Iron. And it heigh Ho to the Royal County Down (PBUI) we go.
Still rated the UK's number one course and second in the world> See here. And again here. So I fear images of golf and later a complete set of grandchildren will follow. Sorry Chain Bridge Bloggee. Its only for two and a half weeks and my agrnts in the Merse will keep me updated with developments here
as Jack McGloughlin my first golf teacher used to tell me
Yes it's that time of the year again when Huttonian (and a slightly reluctant wife) upsticks (or clubs) and heads off to Norn Iron. And it heigh Ho to the Royal County Down (PBUI) we go.
Still rated the UK's number one course and second in the world> See here. And again here. So I fear images of golf and later a complete set of grandchildren will follow. Sorry Chain Bridge Bloggee. Its only for two and a half weeks and my agrnts in the Merse will keep me updated with developments here
Labels: Norn Iron, Royal County Down
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
NUNRAW ABBEY WALKING THE WALK
Huttonian joined a party from the Hutton and Paxton Kirk to Nunraw Abbey near Haddington. This was for the annual open day (5th Sunday in Lent) and for an Ulster (ie Norn Iron) Protestant to walk (with 150 or so devout Catholics apart from the Huttonian /Paxtonians)the 14 Stations of the Cross was an unusual experience. How many long gone relis were revolving in their crypts I shudder to think.
The Abbey is currently manned (the operative word ) by Trappists. I was glad to find out that their vow of silence did not extend to describing the rather complicated route to the Loo in the guest house shown here.
The story goes that at another religious establishment the vow was relaxed for one Monk every seven years. One Brother grabbing the mike complained that the Soup was always cold. Seven years later another Brother insisted that the soup was actually sometimes a bit too hot.
Seven more years elapsed. The Abbot rose to his feet and complained
"I can't stand this constant bickering"
More about Nunraw here
Huttonian joined a party from the Hutton and Paxton Kirk to Nunraw Abbey near Haddington. This was for the annual open day (5th Sunday in Lent) and for an Ulster (ie Norn Iron) Protestant to walk (with 150 or so devout Catholics apart from the Huttonian /Paxtonians)the 14 Stations of the Cross was an unusual experience. How many long gone relis were revolving in their crypts I shudder to think.
The Abbey is currently manned (the operative word ) by Trappists. I was glad to find out that their vow of silence did not extend to describing the rather complicated route to the Loo in the guest house shown here.
The story goes that at another religious establishment the vow was relaxed for one Monk every seven years. One Brother grabbing the mike complained that the Soup was always cold. Seven years later another Brother insisted that the soup was actually sometimes a bit too hot.
Seven more years elapsed. The Abbot rose to his feet and complained
"I can't stand this constant bickering"
More about Nunraw here
Labels: Norn Iron, Nunraw Abbey, Revolving in Graves, Stations of the Cross, Trappists
Friday, October 03, 2008
Huttonian had been hoping that our departure tomorrow from Norn Iron to return to the Merse would be a trouble free affair but the Blether Centre is warning of gales and sky to sky rain. If that was not enough Stena Line is advising leaving plenty of time to get to the port as the departure of the HSS coincides with the arrival of the QE2 on its round the world farewell tour-as described here So the dilemma of planning an early arrival to catch a ship which might be cancelled at the last moment.
We will not anyhow be getting to Duns tomorrow whatever happens. A night in the wilds of deepest Dumfrieshire is planned. And then normal blogging to be resumed.
If we are spared, of course
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Huttonian wondered if he had been an unexpected victim of the credit crunch following an encounter with a Norn Bank ATM yesterday. Having paid out a modest contribution towards coping with the cost of living in Newcastle, the machine refused to return my card. Pressing all available electronic buttons and striking the machine a couple of sharp blows as a restive queue built up behind me brought no positive results so I went into the bank in search of assistance.
A young lady within explained that as the missing card was not a Norn Bank one the rules required it be destroyed-as suspect-and I would have to sort it out with my bank. But if it was suspect why did it pay me out money? I wondered. She took the point and said that if I could produce ID the card would be returned-the card is my ID but I ain't got it, you have.
But they didn't. Machine card less-it must have come out and was now presumably in the possession of some dishonest passer by emptying the remaining contents of my account and buying Easy Jet tickets to exotic far a way places. I rushed out of thr bank (not too easy to rush with two security doors to negotiate) I looked again at the machine. It smiled back but no card between its teeth. A rather scruffy gent to one side asked 'Are you looking for this?' My card! I was. 'It just popped out. I was just wondering what to do with it' (Easy Jet? Amazon UK? A hedge against inflation?) I told him and he handed it over, trustingly,-no request for ID.
I thanked him and left him leaning against the ATM. Peering expectantly at the card slot.
I told the Norn bank teller the good news.
I doubt she believed me.
(The image is a Norn bank fiver-plastic and shiny, its like Monopoly money issued by a Third World Low Street bank)
Monday, September 29, 2008
Blast. Nice Try, Near Miss
The new post modern Promenade in Newcastle has deservedly won many awards for its imaginative design-gleaming metal balls, artfully placed Chinese Granite boulders, sweeping panoramic views of (Irish granite) Mourne Mountains but the city/town fathers (parents?) do not seem to believe that it should be a launch pad for having fun in the sea or on the beach as this notice-displayed every few yards- testifies (Click on it for detail) No Wave Dodging-just stand there and let them knock you down? No inflatables-off with the armbands and let poor Katy sink? Dangerous Currents? Yes about 2 miles out to sea. Slippery Rocks Yes it is a beach-and no rocks actually, just pebbles. And what I really appreciate is the injunction to cautious careful parents to 'report near misses'
'Yes its a Mr MacKeown. From Ballymena, visiting. No 'Mac' not 'Mc'I have to report that my Willie -no its a child- was nearly hit by a small wave which he was not allowed to dodge. No he is ok now. Nearly gave him an awful shock. No not at all; I thought you should know about it. Any chance of compensation for his ice cream he dropped in his fright? £1.75 with a flake. 'No? Flipping mean in my book-and same to you. Last time we come here.'
The new post modern Promenade in Newcastle has deservedly won many awards for its imaginative design-gleaming metal balls, artfully placed Chinese Granite boulders, sweeping panoramic views of (Irish granite) Mourne Mountains but the city/town fathers (parents?) do not seem to believe that it should be a launch pad for having fun in the sea or on the beach as this notice-displayed every few yards- testifies (Click on it for detail) No Wave Dodging-just stand there and let them knock you down? No inflatables-off with the armbands and let poor Katy sink? Dangerous Currents? Yes about 2 miles out to sea. Slippery Rocks Yes it is a beach-and no rocks actually, just pebbles. And what I really appreciate is the injunction to cautious careful parents to 'report near misses'
'Yes its a Mr MacKeown. From Ballymena, visiting. No 'Mac' not 'Mc'I have to report that my Willie -no its a child- was nearly hit by a small wave which he was not allowed to dodge. No he is ok now. Nearly gave him an awful shock. No not at all; I thought you should know about it. Any chance of compensation for his ice cream he dropped in his fright? £1.75 with a flake. 'No? Flipping mean in my book-and same to you. Last time we come here.'
Labels: Newcastle Promenade, Norn Iron
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Artful Aroma
Newcastle's saddest event (long before Huttonian's triple bogey at the short 7th) was the great fishing disaster of 1843 which took the lives of 46 local fishermen. Another event was the running aground of Brunel's steamship the SS Great Britain up the coast in Dundrum Bay. Recent murals at Newcastle Harbour commemorate these events as part of the town's connection with the sea and do something to distract your attention from the smell-partly the glutinous mud at low tide and partly a niff of sewerage from the treatment plant on whose wall the murals have been painted. You will need to click on the individual pictures to achieve full effect.
The smell you will have to imagine
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
The Royal County Down (PBUI) used to have the reputation of being the snobbiest golf club in Ireland. Visitors not allowed inside the club house unless as a member's guest; jacket and tie compulsory in the club house (not to mention trousers) and the qualifications for membership were restrictive. Doctor OK -professional man-Dentist?-no thanks -works with his hands, sort of mechanic fellow don't you know? What. That all stopped when two dentists moved into town; one had a handicap of 1 the other scratch. They were quickly snapped up by the club in case they were tempted to be enrolled in the neighbouring 'town club' ' (Mostly 'Artisans'as they used to say) which share the links on a very restricted basis. Other clubs retaliated with notices: 'Visitors from other clubs Welcome except from Royal County Down' Huttonian used to claim membership of another club to avoid such snubs.
Much has changed. The visitors can use the splendid facilities in the newly expanded club house. There is a 'spike bar' in which you can sit tieless and in your golfing clothes (but not shorts and ankle socks, thank you very much) Membership is now closed so not even a scratch player, Brain Surgeon of royal descent can join without invitation which boils down to dead men's shoes. Men is the operative word -the women, excuse me, ladies have their own (modest) club house.
It is said that the IRA had a problem when they decided to target the RCD as a symbol of the British Establishment. Any old banger conveying a bomb would look very conspicuous in the car park with its up market models. So they had to splash out for a top of the range Jaguar which duly exploded causing considerable damage but as everyone was out on the course, no casualties.
But I suppose it is the thought that counts
Labels: IRA, Norn Iron, Royal County Down, Snobs
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
DRUGS FACTORY DISCOVERED
is the headline on the front page of our local weekly-The Mourne Observer is about a drugs find in a neighbouring village. And in the very (former) house (image above) of the owner of the local riding school where the Huttonian girls had their early riding lessons. The owner of the school is at pains to point out that she sold the property some time ago -to a local developer whose recent attempts to put more concrete into the few remaining building sites in Newcastle have been happily frustrated by the planning officials (But there is no suggestion that he is in any involved in the drugs business:
CCHINESE drug producers are believed to be behind a substantial cannabis find in Maghera, outside Newcastle, at the weekend.
A quarter of a million pounds worth of the drug was discovered by police in a bungalow in the heart of the village on Friday evening.
The find, the second large haul in the area in three months, has prompted police to probe whether or not it is linked to the £1.5m haul at a large-scale cannabis factory in Castlewellan in June.
No arrests were made during the weekend’s operation in Maghera; however three men of Chinese nationality have appeared in court in connection with the June discovery.(Full Story Here)
Chinese incomers have allegedly been active in this part of County Down and it is said that their main market is the Middle East which makes Maghera a rather curious choice of a manufacturing site- Chinese nationals are hardly inconspicuous in South Down and their facial characteristics may not be in their favour as they seek to avoid the dragnet. One retired copper believed that former colleagues had had problems issuing descriptions of the wanted men so had the notion of downloading an image of a Chinese person from Flickr and then reissuing it a a 'Wanted Person' circular. 'But it may not bear any resemblance to the suspects' a senior officer may well have protested. No matter-the theory being that to the locals those guys all look the same and if the pollis can pick up a enough people as a result of 'information received' they are sure to find the ones they want amongst them.
So if you are Chinese or indeed from anywhere in the Far East visiting Norn Iron, my advice is keep well clear of South Down. Perhaps a change of plans?
Duns?
Labels: Drug busts, Maghera, Norn Iron
Monday, September 22, 2008
"I am sorry Sir" said the pleasant, assistant deputy Acting Head Greenkeeper, just after Huttonian had nailed a 250 yard whizzer down the 11th Fairway, 'You are a bit previous Back* Nine does not open until 0930' I looked at my watch. It was 0929. 'Minute to go then' 'No this is the eleventh. You are ten minutes ahead. Clock starts on the 10th tee. You will get entangled with our fairway modulating machinery and the greens will not be ready for you. Suggest you walk through the team ahead and start on the 12th.'
I crested the hill of this 'blind drive' hole. The 11th fairway stretched ahead of me. No Machines; no teams just my ball bang in the middle of the presumably unmodulated fairway. I decided to play on. Then discovered that there was no flag on the green. It was not ready for me? Not to worry. I did not get to where I ought to be today worrying about flags on greens, or the lack thereof. Five iron. Splat. Middle of green. No flag but a hole-5 feet from the ball. Nice three.
Enter stage right on his iron steed. A green keeper, second class just junior to an assistant, deputy, acting Head Green keeper. 'Sorry Sir. You are a bit previous. The twelfth fairway ahead of youis full of modulating equipment and the greens ahead are not ready for you' I looked at my watch 0942. The Tenth hole had presumably been modulated and green ready for 12 minutes. 'Should I wait? I asked. 'Could be a long time, I suggest you carry on on the No 2 Course. I did so glad that I had not paid £125 to play on the championship course (PBUI) and then turned off it to be fobbed off with the £23 Annesley-mind the ladies and watch out for the hackers-course.
AS I went off to the 6th tee on the 'henrun' I noticed Stalker and the Ball Finding Alsatian waiting patiently in the rough beside the 11th Fairway in anticipation the great harvest of balls hit over the blind summit and hooked into the gorse. Which they would be able to see but not the hapless striker. I really could not be bothered to tell them that until the fairway had been modulated and the green prepared they might have a long wait until any more golfers were allowed through.
Patience brings its own reward.
They say
(The image is of the view from the furthest forward of the tees at the 11th. Once the ball has cleared the hill you will not see it again until you have climber over the ridge.
Even then you might not see it again if Stalker has got there first)
* Back as in second 9-you are coming back, eventually.
Labels: Golf, Green Keepers, Norn Iron, Royal County Down
