Friday 3rd September - Armagh to Newcastle

Pupils travel a ridiculously long way to school. I witnessed students alighting from the bus from Armagh after 45 minutes. Has this always been the case? None of them seem bothered though - seeming to take it all in their stride. The route wasn't that tedious at least.

I've got to compliment the various towns on having a credit unions with their own premises. Some boroughs of Nottingham really struggle so it gives a bout of encouragement. I even popped into the Omagh C.U and asked the manager to take a photograph of my angelic being (hey - shut up) at the counter.

It was by Castlewellan on the way to Newcastle that I noticed the mountains rolling with mist. The town, like a few others that have escaped retail development are still earmarked by old style Gaelic lettering.

view from castelwellan - a kind of shanty

blow the mists hard boys
o blow the mists hard
get mountains unburdened with clouds boy
yes blow the mists hard

drive the wind wild boys
o drive the wind wild
blow sand in their hearts boys
yes - drive the wind wild boys

Not sure what to say about Newcastle. It's cleaner than the English version I remember and like. It's similar to an English seaside town with a rough and ready coastline scoured with the views of mountains and cut in half by a rivulet into the sea. The hostel was cosy enough and the weekend which as normal started here. Whew (ahem). I'm thirty nine soon you know.

I met up with a lad from Belgium who seemed to have been traveling the length and breadth of Ireland and Northern Ireland. He was bored with the town and had decided to move on but was begrudging the fact he's lose the money he'd paid for two nights accommodation. We took a walk along the coast battling with the wind - an experience I lap up after being cooped up on a bus for what seems like twice as long as a stretch of Irish linen. Previous to that, I'd done some wandering myself. Just close to the hostel was a circular Catholic Church. The pews weren't quite of the same ethos - preferring to keep the horse-shoe shape and a backdrop to the altar.

This was music in pubs weekend. I'd cooked for both myself and the lad (sorry - no names)and off we pootled. We found ourselves (o there we are!) in a fairly posh pub/restaurant which happily accepted children and families.

So much more I'm noticing that music in pubs is becoming like strips of wallpaper. There were approx five players in all. They all looked as miserable as sin. Even the Irish describe the music nowadays as diddly i-del. Think I've mentioned this before - but a valid point.

The Guinness did me good - it took me through to Saturday