I spent the last couple of days in two small Irish towns, Rathfriland and Enniskillen. These were only visited because some of my ancestors used to live there. Having visited these places I now understand why they left. Boring little village, boring little town. Then there was the potato incident, of which we shall not speak.
Today I visited Newgrange, which is a 5000-year-old burial chamber on a hill. On the winter solstice the sun shines directly in it. I got all claustrophobicish and didn’t like being in it.
But now I’m in Eire, Dublin to be precise. It’s really choice here. There’s a McDonald’s and a movie theatre. The Guinness factory tour awaits, as does the Oscar Wilde and James Joyce places.
Oh yes, for all interested parties, I shall be going to London on Saturday and leaving the following Thursday.
And how about those changes to the Commonwealth working visa thing? Now the age limit has been extended to 30, so I could do the big OE thing after all. And I could work in my profession (whatever that is).
I’m in Belfast. Oh God, it’s bleak. The Special Olympics are being held in Ireland and the American team is staying in Belfast. [joke deleted].
I went on a bus tour this mornin’. As well as driving past the historically significant buildings, it also drove through a Protestant neighbourhood. The locals have painted the kerbs red, white and blue and Union Jacks hang across the streets. There are lots of murals with stuff like “Northern Ireland Will Always Be British” and the equivalent of notorious south side posses, etc. The Catholic neighbourhood the bus drove through was much the same. There was a high rise apartment block that the British army use as a lookout (and surrounding graffiti calling for it to be demilitarised), a remembrance garden for the dead and the Sinn Fein headquarters.
In early July the marches take place. This is when the Protties go on a march to celebrate something to do with something Orange. The historic march route takes them through Catholic neighbourhoods, so sometimes shit gets fucked up. The bus passed an empty lot filled with stacks of tires and wood, which apparently will be burned to celebrate the Orange thing.
I’ve figured out how to pronounce my surname. Excellent.
Oh, and I went on a boat tour down the local river. The Titanic was build here so the old dry dock and bits were pointed out. Westlife are playing tonight at the local arena. OMG.
Also, why the Hell was Jon voted out of UK Big Brother? He was the most interesting housemate. (Yes, yes, I’ve got a dual Big Brother addiction).