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This is the 1st ‘episode’ of another of 'our' travel experiences.
The collective ‘episodes’ describe our journey from our arrival in London (2nd week of June) and across the 'ditch' to Ireland for a few weeks before a return home in mid July. This ‘episode’ describes our few days in London, and our first fortnight in Ireland.
As always, if you want to 'see' more detail in an accompanying picture, click it to enlarge. We've attached a few pics that give you a flavour of our journey, and some 'flow over' past the dialogue.
Ahhhh, it's like being home again.
There is something about London that is so appealing. Yes, it's a 'world' city with all the hubbub and 'buzz' that that implies. Yes, most speak a dialect of English, and after many of our recent journey's, that's always welcome. But, for us it is more.
Having been raised in Victoria (Australia) in the immediate post-war period, Australia (and especially Victoria) held very strong connections with Britain, alliances with British culture, and
especially the British notion of civility to others. Sadly, Australians are increasingly opting for the American model where
fear structures values and attitudes, and friendliness is so often based on monetary exchange. Being in London and relating with locals is sort of like returning to our heritage'. And, our feelings are that we are 'home again'.
While the weather in London for our stay was cold and wet, we still had an amazingly enjoyable time. Fortunately most of our destinations were indoors, and we largely managed to avoid the showers when we needed to venture outdoors.
A primary reason for spending time in London was to advance a part of our family tree. To that end, we booked an apartment rather than a B&B or Hotel. The only reasonably priced short term apartments with public transport access were in the Bloomsbury area.
What a find. Having stayed before in Bayswater and Westminster areas, we now know where we'll search for accommodation in future. Bloomsbury is a residential area, largely servicing the many tertiary institutions in the vicinity. So, tourists are few and far between. It is no less cosmopolitan that Bayswater, just heaps quieter, and has better parks, and a distinctly genteel atmosphere. What fascinated us was that the apartment was in a Georgian styled semi-circle
built some 200 years ago, but has been refurbished inside to be ultra modern.
We found heaps of info at the National Archives & Guildhall Library for the Moon family tree.
Though we knew Christopher Moon - a great, great, great, great, great, great grandfather - was a silversmith and lived in Holborn (
then district within the 1 mile square London City), we located the actual addresses in which he lived once he became a silversmith.
One was at Gutter Lane, now filled with towering office blocks. The other was later, at Holborn, about 1.25km away. That is where he had a silversmith / watchmaker / clockmaker shop. The address, we learnt, was 4 Holborn (
no need for the term 'street', then). We also learned that later in life he moved the business next door from #4 to #3 Holborn.
We learned also that his second son - William - took over the business and he continued at 3 Holborn for a considerable time thereafter.
Knowing where Holborn (
now street) is located, we went back to our apartment that day via the address. We were stunned to find the Elizabethan building in which he lived
and worked still stands. And, more amazingly, there is still a watchmaker silversmith business at 3 Holborn (Street) -
to see the detail, 'click' on the pic for a larger view.
We've attached a pic of the building. You'll see a shop with the name of Lipman & Sons (that's No 4) and Sanford (that's No 3). It is Sanford that is continuing the watch etc., trade.
As there were no government offices open on Sunday (to pursue family history), we spent it as many do; we attended St Paul's for a delightful choral service (
definitely nostalgia) before seeking out a venue for Sunday roast. We've added a short vid of the bell ringing announcing the impending service, and a photo of the inside - despite the signs saying no photo's (
can't see the reason to comply with a sign placed there merely to promote postcard sales). As we later wandered the City area, we really enjoyed the many trees, shrubs and plants that provide locality ambience; most with an intense perfumes. Does cold weather bring out temperate climate plant perfumes??
On to Ireland.
On the day to leave London, we had an afternoon flight
so continued at the National Archives in the
am. Gaining considerable success, we left insufficient time to use the underground so had to take a cab to the Victoria Coach Centre. Being just after Changing of the Guard, the journey was slow. With just minutes left, we jumped out of the cab and unwittingly left the pre-booked bus ticket to the airport on the cab seat!!!
Damn!!! At least there was a fast rail alternative from Victoria Station.
After our first (
and probably 2nd last) Ryanair experience, we soon landed at Cork Airport. If London was cold and damp, Cork gave us a bleaker welcome; the cloud was on the ground and the temperature well down on the scale.
After a warm welcome at our 'digs', we were off to a recommended pub for a quiet ale. Mmmmm, so much choice; ales, stouts, lagers, blondes, reds, browns, weiss to name but a few. A couple of hours later, we toddled off to dinner.
Given that Cork was another ancestral centre (
Judy's maternal lineage), we spent the following day chasing family history. Unlike the extent of British records, few records remain of Cork history; in the early 20th
century the British (
Black and Tans) set fire to the Cork Town Hall (
with the centuries of records) as an act of bastardry and reprisal against local nationalist aspirations. All that appear to exist are church records which we have been advised have now been relocated to Dublin.
We did do some wandering, and were interested to learn of the name of the city cathedral - St FinnBar's. We were married at St Finbar's (in Brighton) and had never heard that name before. Interestingly, the one in Brighton is catholic, while the Cork one is Church of Ireland (
it would have been Church of England before the nation became a Republic in 1949)
We really didn't have any expectations about Ireland, other than the people we'd met elsewhere were friendly and that it is called the green isle to reflect the vegetation. We now know the reason it is green; incessant showers!
The landscape of Cork was a surprise. The city centre is set on a river plain with really wide treeless streets. The populous is largely housed on the surrounding hillsides in tightly configured narrow, winding and barren streets. The 'issue' for us was that the
stone, brick and concrete buildings so dominate the streetscape to present a really bleak outlook that the ambience is foreboding. The lack of vegetation only reinforces this perception. Perhaps also, the fact that the city is ringed on 3 sides by very green rural hills adds to the picture of grittiness that best describes the city.
But, then there is the social life - largely centred around the pub. What a contrast. We've enjoyed many an hour in conversation across a pint or 2, or 3, or 4, or many!
On our last night in Cork we were chatting to a barmaid in a quaint hole-in-the-wall pub and she told us her boyfriend is Australian. Turned out he came from Coolangatta, was in charge of security at some Cork venues and we got free entry to several events. That evening we visited a Geckenstent (a fancy name for a tent) where a Micheal Flannery educated us to an Irish version of blues-folk-rock. We loved it.
On the move - 23rd June.
We picked up a car in Cork to enable us to see more of Ireland. The day turned out to be special as the
sun shone brilliantly (for Ireland). We tootled off to Cobh (pronounced Cove) which is on an island at the mouth of the River Lee (on which Cork sits) and has deep water access (for large boats). Due to the steep hillside behind the wharf area, most of the town buildings rise accordingly. Cobh is where several million Irish set sail for the 'new world' during the potato famine. On this subject, we learnt that most poor people rented, and when the potato harvest repeatedly failed (1845-7) with the associated starvation, landlords were obliged to allow residents to remain even though they could not pay rent. The powers that be suggested that landlords should offer to pay the passage of tenants to the new world if they wanted to evict them. The cheapest passages were to America on 'coffin ships'; so called as too many were crammed into the ships (
to reduce passage cost) and, if the ship didn't sink from overcrowding, many died from disease or malnutrition.
Perhaps the highlight of the sunny day was a visit to Barryscourt Castle. The
du Barry family had been 'given' a large slice of southern Ireland by a Norman king in the
12th century. Over the years the family built up a sizeable estate and considerable power. The ever growing castle fell into disuse in the 18th century and has been refurbished by the Irish gov't to be as it was in the 15th century. Being a quiet day, the castle historian acted as guide and gave us (we being the only visitors) ample time to look through the 5 floors of the squarish tower castle and answer our questions on Irish history - especially the more recent history. We really were blessed to have such access to a very knowledgeable person.
Friday - rain.
While we certainly didn't come for the weather, we did assume that summer would provide us with a modicum of nice weather. Today started with the cloud on the ground, but soon 'evolved' into droplets of rain before giving way to light showers; which remained for the whole day!
We ventured to Ballincollig, where Judy's great, great, great grandfather had indicated as his home town. The original church he would have attended remains, but the village has been engulfed by urban development.
As it was on the route we intended, we headed
for Blarney Castle. Set in a large forested estate, the ruined castle offered an 'other worldly' ambience in the misty rain. Fortunately, the rain also kept the crowds at bay and so we could make our way to the top of the castle to kiss the blarney stone without hindrance. Apparently, kissing the blarney stone is said to give one eloquence but we feel we are far too long in the tooth for any effect. The stone itself is on a wall separate to, and lower than, the floor. So to kiss the stone, one has to lie on one's back, hold onto a (recently installed) piperail and venture back and down with an upturned head till one's head reaches the wall. Be assured, there is no grace in the process, and one makes a quick jab at the wall with pursed lips to ensure the task is completed before resuming a sensible posture.
We made our way further along the coastline (of the Irish Sea), but the weather was against us. If it wasn't raining, the cloud was at ground level so it certainly wasn't OK for taking photographs. We stopped the night at the heritage town of
Youghal (pronounced Yawl).
Youghal was 'established' as a Viking town due to the protected harbour. It was also, later, where Sir Walter Raleigh planted the first potato's (from Virginia, USA). Declared a 'city' by King John in 1202, the city receded from attention as harbour siltation prevented entry of trading boats. Correspondingly, 'progress' in the quaint port town stalled and as a consequence it retains many fine historic buildings (and very few modern ones). The
Collegiate Church of the Blessed Virgin Mary especially amazed us. Part of the current stone structure was built in 1606 and most additions completed by mid 18th century. If you enlarge the accompanying photo, you may see remnants of older additions on the external walls. But, of interest to us is the 'fort' tower at the rear (
you'll see a part of the top above the roof on the right hand side). This tower was constructed to provide refuge to priests in times past. They would have a first floor with only a ladder for entry. Upon being fearful, they would ascend the ladder and haul it inside with them. The height of the first floor meant that the ladder was a special build
item and 'raiders' unlikely to have access. The very structure oozes with history, and possibly due to a lack of district wealth has escaped refurbishment. If there is ever to be a building that 'represents' history, this would be a leading exemplar.
Saturday.
Though still cloudy and gloomy, fortunately the rain had ceased. We had the choice of heading inland towards Lismore, Tipperary and Kilkenny, but chose to remain coastal as we'd been advised there was less chance of rain on the coast (
apparently, most 'weather' comes from the west). Using coastal backroads, we headed towards Waterford. Though a fine town, Waterford didn't appeal to us as the city fathers have focussed most attention on the commercial aspect of the city (centre). We found it pleasant, but busy. To that end we scarpered to Wexford.
With a (relatively) milder climate Wexford county is predominantly agricultural. That said, the calm Irish Sea (sand) beaches and large estuary harbour (River Slanery) draws many Dublin 'weekenders'. Given this, for us the appeal was largely an overnight at a B&B.
Sunday.
All to whom we spoke (in Wexford) promised that Sunday was to
be a much nicer day. The day opened with a typical Irish gloom. We decided to remain coastal and headed towards Arklow. The quaint coastal villages (esp. Courtown) provided us with many opportunities to get out of the car and go walkabout.
We'd read that the drive inland from Arklow through Avoca was pretty. Avoca was where the TV series Ballykissangel was filmed. The scribes were not wrong about the scenery.
By now the cloud had somewhat dissipated to reveal sunny glimpes, and we were in real greenery. For considerable lengths of the road, the overhanging trees made for a green tunnel (sometimes kilometres long). The narrowness of the road meant that the trees were 'pruned' y successive semi trailers such that the green was like a tunnel. Around every other turn was another quaint moss-covered village nestled into the greenscape;
what a contrast to the urban Ireland.
This surely is the Ireland of the travel posters.
Eventually we emerged from the greenery and came to the top of the Wicklow Gap pass (550m!!!). While the scenery 'on the other side' was no less beautiful, it was less treed. Following a backroad around a large lake,
near Blessington we chanced on a pub with a sunny deckview. The car stopped, it must have known we needed a break!! In the balmy afternoon sun, a few pints was not hard to endure!!
Ever onwards, we trundled off for Dublin some 30 minutes away.
Cheers
ps. The second of this trilogy can be found
#2 here
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