Final curtain and time to go home

Our escape for 2011 is over and we are about to put this experience behind us. In many ways, we seem to have made this a complex event. To visit places where a number of the boat people involved in creating the two of us came from has made it a deeper experience. And to cope better with the duration we have not tried to pile experience on experience rapidly but taken a bit longer than most to cover the ground.

In Ireland, almost all of the many people we met had a well developed scepticism and a growing desire to move on despite the country being broke. They just get on with things despite any difficulties. Irish politics and development is complex and we enjoyed trying to get an appreciation of where they have come from and where they are going. I hope that the English will leave one day so that the country can be united.

We liked Ireland a lot and thoroughly enjoyed our 5 weeks here. For us, we are grateful that we had an opportunity to spend several weeks here as just a few days is not enough in our books. Yvonne has found a new artistic mentor and hopes to continue working with her over the years ahead. Randall not only had a great walk through County Kerry but is now looking to find out more about his own Irish heritage.



In Wales, we found things a bit tired and bleak. Perhaps our judgement is a bit unfair with only a few days experience in Northern Wales only. But we feel no urge to go back there. In Llandudno we did meet a couple who have energy and a zest for life but too many seem content to just drift along the same old rutted trails, even those dependant on tourists for a living.


In Scotland, we found things more refreshing and interesting. Yvonne, of suspected but unproven ex-Spanish Armada descent, is now firmly asserting her Scottishness. I was not as smitten as she was but I would have liked more time out and about walking the glens and highlands than we managed to do. The people we met were almost as friendly as the Irish. They love their traditional things but the outlook is modern and forward looking.



We found England to be much like Wales. Quite old and tired in outlook with a heavy emphasis on sticking with tradition and protocols. In some ways, I think they just don't get the modern world. Service in England is relatively poor and they can be quite aloof and patronising at times. Too much royal family and too much assumption that the world will come to them. So maybe it is a good thing that Randall's boat people left England, never to return. As far as I know, none of these people ever returned, even for a holiday. Smart people, I now think. On the other hand, if they spent some time with Tony and Julia, maybe they would regret the big move.



But for now, it is time to rejoin people down under, despite the pathetic politics and the mindless paranoia Australians whip themselves into. There are clearly some deep forces at play in the minds of Anglo Australians over us boat people. More Australians need to reflect more positively on where they came from, as we have done.

This has been a good trip to make. We had fair weather, about what we expected. We enjoyed good food, good beer and modest wines. Our travel plans worked perfectly, as we would expect after quite a few years of doing these sort of trips. But it is time to move on and we probably need a break from each other.

And now this is us?

What does where you take a holiday say about you?

In this weeks newspapers we had one complete page telling us that a certain Mr Beckham is paying a certain Steven Spielberg a very large sum of money to hire a gross house overlooking a not that interesting part of the Californian coastline with its own private beach for a bit of a holiday. Whilst towards the other end of the spectrum here in Llandudno we are amongst quite a few ordinary families, quite a few retired types and quite a few “boocket” and spade shops for our own holiday break.

Within our tour planning, we left a couple of days spare as contingency and so we have lobbed into this Victorian era gently aging spot on our way back to Dublin where our “ship” awaits. Which reminds me to recall for any aviation buffs out there that a couple of days ago and just outside of Bedford, I noticed that there are still 2 airship hangers existing since way back when. They looked very tired and perhaps no longer in real use since housing airships built in the 1980s when they almost made a real comeback of sorts.





But back to downtown Llandudno.

Yes, they still do the same old Punch and Judy shows along the promenade. A few kids watching and quite a few of the living dead sitting nearby remembering Queen Victoria. Yes there is a long pier for us Brits to stroll out with raincoats on whilst some kids explore side show alley. Reach the end of the pier then you stare out to sea wondering, wondering... Yes, there are endless fish and chip shops plying their trade. Yes, there are many lolly and rock shops about, almost as many as I saw in Rockingham WA the last time I was there amongst the many pommies who live in our remote west. And Yvonne's favourite here is Grumpy's. And yes, the pedestrians must dodge even rented mobility scooters zooming along with warning flags flying.

And now this is us. Where is this heading?

Where was Yvonne?

Whilst Randall was pouring over old records, maps and gravestones Yvonne took advantage of the train service and revisited Brighton for the day. Also to send a postcard to Randall's mum with an update on her honeymoon location. Twenty eight years on Brighton is not how I remember it – much bigger and the weather was appalling. The wind was so strong on the promenade you could hardly stand up. I checked out the Royal Pavilion, wandered The Lanes and just had time for a coffee at Jamie Oliver's Cafe/shop/cooking school.



Another train journey took me to London again after just as many years. I forgot – July is top tourist season and they were out in full force. London is a major works in progress right now, with so much building/reconstruction going on for the Olympics. I spent nearly 5 hours on buses just getting around as a refresher – no time for even a coffee. The Queen had a garden party on but I didn't have time to go there – saw her guests lined up in their finery under umbrellas sheltering from the huge deluge we had. I also only had time to drive past Westminster where all the action was happening. It was a stressful day, with my eye always on the clock so I was glad to relax on the train home with the pinstripe trousers (no suits on this train). Take me back to Scotland.

Back to history lessons

We had ventured into family heartland around the counties of Hertford and Bedford. This family back tracking only means what you want it to mean in if you were born and raised in Australia then perhaps your link to England is tenuous at best. But it seems it is never that simple. Find a couple of family names in the records, look around a couple of churchyard cemeteries and then the J part of ISTJ preferences takes off and new conclusions were being drawn. In the 2 days available, Randall managed to take off in several different directions at once reacting to snippets of new information.

A high school history education largely based on an English view of the world combined with a layman knowledge of powerful events including the religious reformation, agrarian reforms and land enclosures plus the industrial revolution in post Napoleonic war England are now not enough. Randall has now learnt that John Bunyan spent time in Bedford gaol whilst expounding the merits of religious reform. And he had a keen follower in the vicar in Pirton village where Randall's forebears lived in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. So what, you say?



Well, at least some of the family “strayed” into Baptist or Methodist or Quaker or other Puritan streams. And this makes for somewhat messy tracking of the baptisms, marriages and deaths records so necessary for family tracing. Randall could not find any Facebook pages for clues and calls to the Murdoch empire people and the police hackers did not seem the right thing to do as quite a few of these people were tied up with a small parliamentary enquiry or mulling over lost jobs.

So after just two days of effort here, Randall had found new areas to investigate whilst consolidating disparate information previously discovered. As well he had confirmed that Hertfordshire not Bedfordshire was home base for most of his family at one time, particularly in the nineteenth century. These days there is perhaps one family member left in this small village.



And it does appear that forebear William was one of a kind with no others in the near family falling foul of the system to find himself bound for Botany Bay and life consigning descendants to a different form of misery under Julia and her ilk. (Or was young William given a great break to establish a new dynasty down under?)

PS. Horror, horror. A big historical hero in Bedford is one John Howard (1726-1790), statue and all. Bedford is not a place to come back to. Wonder if there are any connections here?

Finally, what was Yvonne doing whilst Randall was living in the past?

Kingsley tour of Scotland ends

The people we have met in Scotland have been almost as friendly as those in Ireland, if a tad more dour and subtle in response to us Australians. Economically, we would guess that whilst things might be tight, they are better off than people in Ireland. Real estate, on the surface, looks to be in better shape too and there seem to be more tourists about.

As we prepare to move a little south and into England tomorrow, I am now getting ready to adjust our own sails a bit after we get home. My sense of where we really come from has certainly deepened. We have also had several interesting conversations, without conclusions I might add, over the last month or so about what we might do next and where we might head off to. Whilst these are part of an ongoing tension about family, place and activities, our visits and learnings here are helping me to make some changes.



Our tours through stately homes have also raised the somewhat thorny issues of hereditary power and earned wealth. Not to think about the little people crushed along the way as families grabbed for influence. It is too easy to be entranced by the public images projected without thinking too much about the power being exerted and some are currently being bewitched by the touring Wil and Kate brigade. Up here it seems that English Queen Victoria wasted no time in her day to extend her family's grasp of property and influence in much the same way. By visiting these places this week, I guess in some ways we are also supporting the status quo. Meanwhile the process of power gathering in society continues as it has for thousands of years.



And the world out there continues to intrigue. The Anglo Irish are currently marching away in Belfast and elsewhere in Ireland, frustrating other young Irish natives into ongoing protest. Learning is being learnt over the centuries.

Rupert M is still in the UK defending his turf and demonstrating what happens when people stay around too long, lose touch and fail to succession plan. Here in the UK former dining partners Blair and Brown have quickly turned with knives drawn and I wonder if Julia (if still around) Gillard and other PMs will continue to grovel at the Murdoch table when next in the US?



Lastly spare a thought for Yvonne on Saturday as she supervises English traffic whilst looking for photo opportunities and puts her foot on the brakes of the hire car at the same time. The experts are predicting wind and rain all day so this will not be a day of reflection on what we are doing about our own boat people.

Meandering along with Randall And Yvonne

The sense of this trip has varied over the week, perhaps largely as we are self-catering and touring from a fixed position just a few miles from Perth. We have completed tourist and educational trips to Stirling Castle and the William Wallace monument, adding in a bit of exploration around St Andrews and the sea-side villages of Crail and Anstruther – the best fish and ships in Britain ??...... whilst trying to learn a little about our local area of Dunning. The weather has been good as we wandered. We also continued to enjoy our Rapunzel type existence in the Tower House.



We have not done this area justice as we have sacrificed opportunities to stay very local and just walk the ground seeking deer, red squirrels, highland cattle and more sheep for Yvonne's camera. Instead we have spent more time in the car to reach a few more of the interesting towns and castles. Our walks have been fewer and shorter than we anticipated.



The boat people mission had been parked until we visited the old Innerpeffray Library, the oldest in Scotland where we spent a couple of hours pouring over 16th and 17th century books and checking out the maps and descriptions of English counties and Randall's heritage. We were shown and able to thumb through several ancient books describing history of counties and so Randall was riveted there for quite a while delving into old English and also Latin.



Visits to Dunkeld, Pitlochry and the castles of Blair Atholl and Scone were all really interesting and Yvonne was quite blown away by highland shopping opportunities at Bruar near Blair Atholl. This was where our picnics were brief and our walks shortened a tad.

North of the border

We all get things right sometimes and I got it right today in Scotland. Our pre-booked church tower, transformed into a self-catered accommodation, meets all of our requirements. And Yvonne gets to live in this romantic place on her birthday. As part of a decommissioned church set just outside Dunning, an ancient Perthshire village, the place hits most of our buttons. Facilities to a high standard, all mod cons, broadband wifi (for Randall), second floor bedroom in the church tower and below the old clock and bells, a short walk to the village, pleasant hosts and big smiles on Yvonne. Well that was until Yvonne discovered the narrow winding stairway up the tower as you would expect in such a church tower. She is getting used to the idea now. In the kitchen Yvonne prepares dinner with the angels watching over her and under the stained glass window. Could be a good week here if the weather holds.



It was quite a long haul up into Scotland from Wales and made more interesting as the traffic levels on the motor ways were very high. Randall enjoyed practice for the British Grand Prix whilst Yvonne was trying to look everywhere at once. She did not have enough time to call out driving instructions, just a squeal or two from time to time and exhausted look on her face at the end of the day..

By judicious planning we managed to get to a great little market town in Lancashire, Kirkby Lonsdale, for lunch. We stayed for a week in this delightful spot many years ago and with good holiday weather and an international Harley Davidson gathering on in and around the town, the place was humming along nicely. We had a very pleasant cafe lunch of modern food and great service so some of our fears about stodge, stodge and stodge in England are being dis-spelled somewhat.



On Sunday, and whilst seemingly hours of media being chewed up over the death of a low life newspaper, we made a short couple of hours driving tour around the local district to get a bit of a feel for this part of Scotland and to get a better idea of what we might do to entertain ourselves over the coming week.

And as a now total convert to staying in touch through internet and with all places in Ireland, Wales and now Scotland so far providing good connectivity, we are easily following the somewhat inept politics and happenings going on down under.

We have yet to think about when this particular venture will stop, as it must. For now it is still a fine adventure.

Some dream, some do

We all have dreams but not usually to build your own ideal village. One such architect had this dream back in the 1920s and lived to see his dream come true after 50 years in creation. He searched for the ideal location and found it in Wales by accident while sailing nearby. Port Meirion is an Italianate style village created by Sir Clough Williams-Ellis and today run as a charity as set up by his family.



Dodging several showers, we enjoyed several hours in the village as part of our last day in this part of Wales. The day also included a drive through parts of Snowdonia national park and several quaint villages. It took a few days to adjust to the somewhat slower pace of life in Beaumaris and but for another injection of Eton like class conversation with a couple at breakfast down from wherever to check over Will and Kate's place on Angelsea over the weekend, we could have really enjoyed it here.

News of the World out, R&Y blog in

The News of the World may finish this weekend but here in Blog land, life goes on as usual.

Tired, aloof, old, calculating, diffident, traditional, aggressive, self assured, monarchist. These are the words that are currently coming to my head after just a couple of days in Wales/Great Britain. The weather has been quite poor over the last few days as well and this may be contributing to my slightly indifferent feelings at the moment.

But compared to the Irish, even in their current financial plight, Great Britain seems quite a way out of touch. The service to travellers like us is certainly way behind Ireland. We are often left with the feeling that here we should be grateful for the opportunity to be in the shop/pub/restaurant and we will get around to you when we think it is your turn for our focus.

Here in Anglesea and Snowdonia in general, the natural settings are quite sensational and very easy on the eye. So there is no shortage of opportunities to be enchanted. But it is just not happening and it is coming down to the people thing.

The drivers are also a lot more aggressive on the roads and courtesies are few on the narrow back roads. Parking for any cars in and around the towns/villages/seaside is tightly controlled, expensive and not well planned.

But there could be layers in here within me that are also in play. I am more than half English by heritage and coming here may be bringing long suppressed experiences out. I could be back in the 1950s at times with the Enid Blyton, Noddy, Beano and Dandy, Rupert, Biggles and the Daily Mirror experiences of my youth now front of mind and I may be “coming home” to my own ghosts in some respects. Even here in Wales, I have seen my own mother and her other English friends in the many elderly women getting around these old Victorian era towns. The ways they walk, talk, dress and engage with each other are very familiar to me.

We mat report on what we did in Wales later.

And politically the whole place seems to be erupting around the News of the World issue.

So as we move soon up to Scotland for a week, I wonder what I will be thinking this time next week?

Looking for Druids

As we sail out of Dublin I am feeling rather sad to leave such wonderful people. However the remainder of our trip is ahead of us and the sun is shining.

Our trip across the Irish sea is very smooth and we embark at Holyhead having skyped members of our family while making the crossing.



We collect our new car and head for Caernarfon. At which time we decide it is such a nice day we will make the train trip to Mt Snowdon. These trains run every half hour but are quite busy so we have to wait until 4pm to make the journey. The scenery during the climb is absolutely magnificent and views of the very steep valleys is breathtaking. However the heavens open and by the time we reach the top it is clouded in well and truly as we know can happen when you are at 3559 feet. They do say you can see forever, but that is not for us today. The return trip is taken very slowly in our little steam train and I have my foot to the floor to assist in the steep descent.



We have now arrived at our house on the island of Anglesey with views of the Menai Strait and Snowdonia. The house is believed to originally have been a hospice for monks built in the 1700's. We actually have a panel enclosed in our room showing the original wall built from wattle and daub. However the house has been considerably renovated to a very comfortable state. We are feeling a little abandoned as our hosts have left us to attend a dinner at Windsor Castle tonight – however we will manage.

The view across from our house is of the Menai Strait with many little yachts and the mountains which are forever changing depending on the weather. I could sit forever just looking at this very peaceful view.

We drive on to Beaumaris on Angelsey Island and our home for the next three days.

The King is dead, long live the Queen

Back in Dublin and the revolution is on. The Tour Director for Ireland has resigned and the Tour Director for the UK is taking over. We are camped with our hosts Dee and Liam at Brookville House near Blackrock and a little to the south of Dublin. The Irish car has been returned and early tomorrow morning we will be on the fast ferry over to Holyhead.

There has been a minor revolution this evening and Yvonne has emerged as the Tour Director for the next stage of the travels. Long live the Tour Director.

The former Director was last seen staring over the waters and wondering how this revolution emerged. This is a good thing, he muses. Now he can sit back a bit and do some Tom Tom assisted navigation around Wales and Scotland before we get to the key Kingsley boat people in Bedford towards the end of next week.

We are more than satisfied with our travels around Ireland. This trip is at least on a par with other extended trips we have made over the last few years. We think we covered quite a bit of country, nearly 4,000 kms of driving, many kilometres of walking and we have talked with a lot of very friendly and helpful natives. We have enjoyed every minute, even the rain in Galway is well into our past.

The Butler of Kilkenny

For what was effectively our last touring day in Ireland, we decided to stick to our tried and proven process. We were staying in the city and just around the corner from the Butler family ghosts and Kilkenny castle so we took a self guided tour of this former home of the rich and powerful. The fellow tourist crowd was about, but enough for us to cope with. This castle, now in public hands, is a bit of a gem and we enjoyed our time there. You could think about just how these places come into being and about how many people were ground into oblivion to create them, but perhaps it is time to get over that and move on. Today the castle and the extensive grounds are enjoyed by thousands, now including us from down under.



From the castle we set out for a pilgrimage to the nearby area of Thomastown and then Inistioge. Went past ruined Jerpoint Abbey three times trying to find a native at home before actually stopping to visit this place which was taken out of existence by Henry XVIII and his fellow English bullies some time ago. A highlight for the day was Inistioge, a pretty little place tucked in between the hills and the river. Just to relax for a bit in the sun and along the picnic grounds was enjoyable and there were plenty of others doing the same. Of course we had afternoon tea at one of the cafes nearby.



From there we headed into Woodstock gardens which is a former grand estate now being gradually restored by the Republic. A wander around the gardens was again enjoyable. As with Inistioge, there were plenty of families letting youngsters release energy in the spacious expanses on a sunny day.

From there, it was a quiet drive back to Kilkenny, a quaint and pleasant small city in a good setting where we enjoyed our last touring dinner. It was time to turn our heads towards Dublin and prepare ourselves for the Welsh, English and Scots in the days ahead. With grimacing teeth, we have been keeping our eye on the BBC over the last few days to get up to speed on current affairs in the fading empire.



But perhaps I am a little ahead of myself here and my touring companion may haver other ideas for the day ahead.

In ,the Kats hurling team are a big item. Lousy colours but perhaps more sense that those blue and white pussy cats of Geelong.

Closing a boat loop

On Saturday, we took a day out for Randall to revisit boat people scenarios. We drove over to Cobh, once known as Queenstown to the English and once the port for Cork. We know that Randall's great great grandmother Eliza Sandford and point of origin for the Kingsley dynasty in Australia was held in Cork gaol for a year or so before taking the “Roslin Castle” from Cork to Australia in 1835.

So to close a loop, we spent a few minutes at Cobh.



Whilst there we visited the remarkable heritage centre, established at one end of the railway station. This centre has a strong focus on immigration by ship from Ireland, especially to the US and to Australia. The centre also covers the “Titanic” as this was the last port of call for “Titanic” before heading off to oblivion and “Lusitania” which sank near Cobh in 1915, itself creating something of an unresolved controversy. So there was plenty to take in and think about here. Enough to require a cup of tea and a scone afterwards.



Cobh may have been the last port of call for the immigrant ship “Joshua” and immigrants John Cassidy (16) and brother Patrick Cassidy (14) in 1857 but this has not been proven. They may have sailed from Donegal way or even Galway. Work for another day.

From Cobh we became temporary inmates in the old Cork gaol which now is also a museum worth a visit. With the accent we have, the woman at reception was a bit too quick to welcome Randall home again after all these years. We spent quite a moving hour or so there listening to recreated stories of the people once held there.



The two museum visits were taking a mental toll and so we repaired to nearby Kinsale for the rest of the afternoon. The sun was shining and everyone was out and about including the sailing boats.

Back on track and in Kerry

It did not take long on the mini bus on the Aran Islands before I had a rush of feelings, some not that positive and it set a bit of tone for the day and for some days to come. I was okay for the first 10 minutes or so whilst the driver cracked some jokes and gave a good run down on the island. We were left at the nearest spot for our 20 minutes walk up to the fort. Okay. But on the return and whilst awaiting driver, I filled in some time observing others around me. Like the 3 middle aged women who took 5 minutes to work out that to take the walk to the fort, one has to pass through the visitor centre and pay 2 euros for the privilege. Back and forth they went, arguing loudly about the price and the process. Like the young girls, in shorts and other not so good attire on a cool,windy day, huddling together in the doorway of the only entry to the fort. Eventually they reluctantly moved out of the doorway so that Yvonne can get a photo muttering something about “yes, we are from the US and we think we rule the world”. Then after a series of on the bus, off the bus activities I get the old anti tourist feeling and just want this mini tour to end.

Back in the “capital” of Innis Mor, the community feeling of the locals shines through as they watch the boat races and the music starts up on the quay where people are gathered. The older ones, mostly men, are talking “shop” and probably the weather and sport as they do all over the world. The younger ones are hunting in packs and eyeing others off as they go around. The next younger groups and families are intent on following the boat races and enjoying the events. All good stuff and community life seems strong amongst the 800 people who live on this remote place.

In Killarney several days later, it is wall to wall buses and glazed eye tourists wandering over twee streets. So I was pleased to get to Kenmare, a little out of the way but still on the Ring of Kerry, where we can re-establish out mode of self touring.



But back tracking now. For our last day at Castleconnell we took a fairly long drive over to the
southern end of the Burren and south of the Cliffs of Moher. We parked the car on the coast at Kilkee and walked along the cliffs from there. It was a terrific and simple thing to do and with a few minutes of walking the panorama opened up. It was quite a good day and the air was very clear. Magnificent 360 degrees views. This was what we had come to seek in Ireland.



We also enjoyed a few hours in and around Dingle town on our way to Kenmare. The vistas here were also very pleasant and the town was quite vibrant with plenty of visitors, Irish included as the holiday period is now upon us.



Several days later we did a similar thing in Kerry. This time we walked from Waterville to Scarriff Inn perched high up in the hills overlooking Ballinskelligs Bay and the Beara Peninsula. It was another perfect day and Yvonne did quite well again to handle the 15 kms walk up and over Farraniaragh mountain-twice. Second time around for Randall but many more stops to smell the roses and to take a few more photos of sheep - a bit of a thing with Yvonne.



The whole Kerry peninsula is almost picture perfect and from up in the hills this walk is just a series of sweeping views all around. We were pleased with our time here. Inspirational. We also had time to visit the family home of Daniel O'Connell “The Liberator”. This home is set in against the hills and quite protected. There are quite special gardens here than entice you to sit and just take in the environment. Mandatory spot for tea ans scones-again.



Saturday was the one day each year when a bicycle “fun”event takes place with over 3,000 participants riding the whole Ring of Kerry, over 200 kms. The riders must compete with normal traffic, including the many tour buses for space on the narrow roads. We will not be hanging around here for that.

Touring in Clare

Our mini break in Galway was over and it was time to move over the border and into County Clare. It was not far and so we could take our time. The short distances are a great feature of this trip in Ireland. First stop today was Ballyvaughan and just in time for yet another tea and ….... . This is a very idyllic spot in the Burren. On the water and very Irish. Great thatched roof holiday rentals and not all that many tourists about. Time denied us the opportunity to try the highly recommended Monk's seafood restaurant but we enjoyed an adjacent tea room. Great selection of tarts and light lunch and we resisted most of them.

From there we meandered along to rediscover O'Connors pub in downtown Doolin and this time just in time for lunch. We made it to the bar just in advance of a horde of glazed eye bus tourists and so we enjoyed our second lunch at this active spot.



From there we drifted into Ennis, another good town in this region before driving over to Limerick and our next accommodation at Castleconnell. This time we are in what looks like a former stately home. Right on the Shannon River and with commanding views. The small town looks to have been decimated by the GFC. Any number of places for sale, some clearly under refurbishment. There is no longer a restaurant in the town and the 2 pubs are quite average looking. A bit sad I must say.




On Tuesday Yvonne took Randall over to Killaloe for breakfast and a guided tour of the town which is on the Shannon River and opposite Ballina in Tipperary on the other side of the river. Our target on this clear, sunny day is Adare, said to be the most English of all Irish villages. It does live up to its' name and we spend a few hours there enjoying the atmosphere.



From there we drive over to Cahir and Cashel, two towns with great medieval features. In cahir we enjoy a good walk along the river and beside a beautiful golf course. A couple of healthy duck meals at Goosers in Killaloa ends another great day in this green piece of paradise.