The Castle

[NM]

One thing I will say is that the loos without doors were incredibly clean.

It was almost as if no one was using them.

Ahh, you see, this no-door policy was implemented during the Covid era, when every second seat in airport terminals was marked with a big cross of fluorescent tape to ensure people did not congregate too close to one another.

So lav stall door removal was implemented as a logical extension to the public safety exercise, keeping people physically separated by an empty stall while they read their email and updated Facebook status behind a closed door. This worked really well for keeping people safe, except for those standing in the queue waiting for their turn to get to a throne-behind-a-closed-door, where the risk of clothing damage and personal embarrassment was greatly increased (which was rarely posted in the aforementioned Facebook status updates).

 

[Captain Halliday]

The Missing Butler

After picking up a hire car we spent the night at a basic hotel not far from the airport.

Next day we set of towards the wedding venue in County Fermanagh in Northern Ireland.

In the early afternoon drizzle we navigated the long winding driveway to the Castle.



Most of the bride and groom’s family were staying in one of the castle’s many rooms.

The estate also had several cottages to accommodated other guests.

From the moment she heard about the wedding, Miss H had her young heart set on staying in the castle.

The dream of every princess.

And after some subtle but intense lobbying, a distant cousin was relegated to the cottages and the young princess had her wish granted.

When we arrived, she was escorted to her quarters around the back.



The Butler’s Apartment had a single bedroom overlooking the fields where sheep and cows grazed.





There was a lounge room with fire place.

It was configured with two sofa beds.

An expansive bathroom, with a deep bath.



And a full kitchen.



The only thing missing was the butler.

We never did find out where he went for the weekend.

 

[Captain Halliday]

*At the request of the bride and groom there will be no wedding photos in the trip report*

The Wedding - Day 1

Weddings.

Those grand occasions filled with ceremony, happiness, and a couple of slightly inappropriate relatives.

If you’ve ever been to an Irish wedding, you’ll know this grand occasion isn’t a half-day affair like most Australian weddings.

In Ireland, weddings are more like a multi-day festival.

As any Irishman will tell you, you have to be match fit.

If you're not. it can be an endurance test.

And so it was with this wedding.

We arrived early on Thursday afternoon and while getting our bearings in the Castle, one of the flower girls handed us an itinerary.

This confirmed our three days were indeed going to test our stamina.

First on the agenda at 3pm: welcome drinks.

Very civilised.

These were served in the library where beer, wine, and sparking were flowing freely.

As darkness descended, the the Butler’s whereabouts was still a mystery.

Rumblings were growing.

An emergency call was made.

And about an hour later the pizzas arrived.

The children’s game of hide-and-seek quickly switched to swarm-and-eat.

The welcome drinks continued into the evening.

By 9pm we were feeling very welcome and made an early exit.

Day one seemed too easy.

I had plenty of energy in reserve and would still manage a full night’s sleep.

It was a false sense of security.

Day two was going to be the big test.

 

[Captain Halliday]

The Wedding - Day 2

First on the itinerary next morning was a champagne breakfast at 8am.

At 11am we had to depart for the chapel in pouring rain.

It was a treacherous drive on Irish country roads barely wide enough for one car.

I spent the journey either sliding off the left shoulder while allowing oncoming tractors to pass, or sliding off the right shoulder trying to pass the tractors plodding along in front of us.

After the wedding itself, Irish tradition dictates a pint at the nearest pub.

So everyone made their way down to the local.

Irish tradition also dictates that you can’t just have one.

As the driver, I had to break with tradition.

Next on the schedule at 3pm was afternoon tea in the library.

It’s fair to say Irish tradition can be blamed for everyone being late.

For those who don’t speak Irish, “afternoon tea” translates loosely to “beer” in Australian.

As people rolled in from the pub having barely wiped the froth off their lips, they were swiftly handed their afternoon tea.

This continued until 6pm when guests were asked to assemble in the dining hall for speeches.

This stuck me as a very good idea: getting the speeches out of the way before anyone had too much to drink.

If only the drinking hadn't started so early.

The speeches were followed by dinner, and more drinks.

As day two of the endurance test entered it’s 12th hour, the dancing began.

Accompanied by more drinks.

At around 11:30pm supper was served.

This was more like round two of dinner.

On offer was fish and chips, noodle boxes with chicken and salads.

And more drinks.

With supper complete, the reception was showing no signs of winding down.

Sometime just after midnight the music was turned up several notches and the dancing intensified.

This endurance test was far from over.

 

[DC3]

The Missing Butler


The only thing missing was the butler.

We never did find out where he went for the weekend.

 

[JackMiles]

The Wedding - Day 2

First on the itinerary next morning was a champagne breakfast at 8am.
...

The first twelve hours sound to me like a fabulous day, but I suppose you'd tell me it wouldn't do to retire as the dancing begins, even as the law of diminishing returns surely begins to take effect in earnest.

 

[drron]

If I got up and danced it is possible everyone else would leave.

 

[Captain Halliday]

A cheeky nap

Another Irish tradition is that guests should not leave the wedding before the bride and groom.

Young children and those getting on in years are the only exceptions.

About 1am I decided Miss H met the exception and it was time for her to get some sleep.

I took her to our room and tucked her in.

I was starting to fade and the pillow looked so inviting.

The light patter of rain against the window was like a soundtrack for sleep.

Keen to respect the Irish tradition, I was committed to re-join the party.

But with the party showing no signs of slowing down, surely there was no rush.

A 30-minute nap wouldn’t hurt.

Would it?

No one would even notice.

Recharge and head back downstairs with renewed vitality.

For my 30 minute nap I set my alarm for an hour later.

I lay down and shut my eyes.

Despite music that made the floor vibrate and almost drowned out the rain, I was asleep almost instantly.

What could possibly go wrong?

 

[Flyfrequently]

A cheeky nap

What could possibly go wrong?

You are leaving us hanging again @Captain Halliday - can't wait to hear what happened next!

 

[Captain Halliday]

First light

The alarm was a rude awakening, but just after 2am I put my suit back on – minus the tie - and headed back down to the party.

It was showing no signs of winding down.

The band was long gone but the bride and groom partied on.

The Spotify playlist seemed to include only U2, The Corrs and The Cranberries.

Clearly local selections.

I’d hoped the nap would reinvigorate me.

But my mojo was not returning.

As the morning wore on, I was questioning my commitment to Irish tradition.

As the glimmer of first light appeared outside the castle windows, the bride and groom decide to call time.

Just after 5am.

Good thing they didn’t stay too much longer.

The itinerary still had a full day to go, starting with breakfast at 8am.

 

[Gladstone Tim]

I think the marriage needs the same sort of stamina as the wedding! Loving the report.

 

[Captain Halliday]

The Wedding - Day 3

Not surprisingly, I began day three feeling incredibly tired.

But my nap turned out to be a masterstroke.

I felt like I had enough in the tank to make it through the day’s scheduled activities.

They included:

• Breakfast at 8am
• Checkout by 10am
• A one-hour drive to a pub near the bride’s small hometown
• "Recovery" drinks at 12noon
• Another hour on the road to our accommodation in Belfast.

We were among just a dozen people on-time at breakfast.

The partying had taken its toll.

Chatting with other guests, we learned about half the group were heading directly to another wedding that afternoon.

How could they possible do this for a second consecutive night?

We managed to check out on-time, waving goodbye to people straggling downstairs still in their pyjamas.

Just after midday we rolled into the bride's home town and parked outside the one and only pub.

Inside sat two barflies.

Silent and statue-like, they stared at the races on a big screen.

Their only company was the barman who was polishing the benchtop.

I wanted to abort and continue to Belfast.

But having travelled all the way to Ireland, Mrs H was keen to spend more time with the bride.

With none of the other wedding guests to be seen, we had to pass some time.

At 12:06pm we set off on a self-guided tour of the town.

At 12:08pm our tour ended back at the pub.

This time we drove by and continued to the next town to have lunch.

Approaching 1:30pm we returned to the pub.

As I pushed open the heavy timber door it was like the place had been frozen in time.

The publican was still there, polishing.

So were the bar flies watching the races.

The only think that had changed was the amount of Guinness in their glasses.

Race 3 in Dublin was underway and it must have been a thriller because the place came alive.

One of the blokes silently gestured towards the screen with his half-empty glass.

The barman stopped polishing the bench to watch.

When the race ended, the barman went back to polishing.

And the two bar flies resumed their silent conversation.

Channelling their telepathic communication I looked at Mrs H but said nothing.

She nodded.

We climbed back in the car a set course for Belfast.

Lucky we did.

Later that night we learned the bride and groom arrived for recovery drinks sometime after 4pm.

Just the happy couple, the two barflies and the polishing publican.

 

[VPS]

Ah the Irish sense of time keeping hasn't changed then

 

[Captain Halliday]

Crowne Plaza Belfast

We used Belfast as a base to explore several areas of Northern Ireland before heading home.

We stayed at the Crowne Plaza.

It’s about 15 minutes from the CBD and has easy access to the major motorways and was well located for our plans.

Additionally, I’d become IHG Diamond just before this trip so anticipated the benefits to be of use.

Despite my profile requesting a room away from the lift, our assigned room was next to the lift.

The room also appeared to be exactly as booked and not an upgrade.

Unless the complimentary Kit Kat and shortbread was the upgrade.

The hotel shares the site with a publicly accessible pool and gym complex.

This is free to use for hotel guests, but you must make a booking.

On each of the three times Miss H wanted a swim I was asked what time I’d like to book and replied: “now o’clock”.

Two out of three were grant, the other required us to wait an hour until a water aerobics group finished.

For the welcome amenity I chose breakfast which was a hybrid of buffet and a la carte.

The buffet was the usual affair you’d expect from a midscale hotel.





A la carte options included omelettes, eggs benny, waffles.

According to the menu, ordering a la carte meant you were excluded from the hot buffet, but in practice this wasn’t enforced.

And just like the pool, you were required to book a breakfast slot.

On our first three days this was no issue.

On day four we tried to book 9am and were told they were fully booked.

Instead, I booked for 8am, but somehow every watch, clock and alarm in the room failed overnight.

As a result we arrived at breakfast around 9am.

The place was half empty and we were seated without delay.

Service across the hotel was inconsistent and really depended on the individual staff member:

Check in: Terrible, slow, no upgrade.

Housekeeping: Terrible one day, terrific the others.

Breakfast staff: Generally terrible, but the happy chef would deliver a la carte orders to your table.

Bar: Terrible one day, great the next.

Front desk: Terrific. Very helpful when a flight change meant I had to extend our car hire.

Check out: Terrible. Slow and constantly stopped to answer the phone.

Overall, Crowne Plaza Belfast is perfectly adequate for a couple of nights, just don’t expect any meaningful status recognition.

 

[Captain Halliday]

So much for Irish tradition

In Belfast it was back to the classic Halliday holiday mode – lots of walking.

We first passed the central clocktower.



If it looks familiar, that’s because it’s modelled on Big Ben.

We continued to Belfast City Hall which houses an excellent exhibition of the city’s history.

I rarely enjoy museums and galleries and much prefer scenery and natural attractions.

But this was an impressive set up and we spent almost two hours wandering through the exhibits.

I particularly enjoyed the display on the evolution of language in Belfast.



I’ve used “who ate the sugar off your bun” once or twice with Irish mates, drawing blank looks each time.

We were keen to see the Titanic Museum before the day was through.

But first needed to refuel.

Being a Sunday, I suggested we honour yet another Irish tradition: lamb roast at an Irish pub.

Predictably, Miss H wanted pizza.

While Mrs H turned to TripAdvisor to rule out anything that scored fewer than five stars any time in the past three months.

But at every pub we passed, Irish heritage was being trashed.

“Beef and chicken.” Said one chalkboard.

“Chicken and pork.” Spruiked another.

These places all dared to call themselves “traditional” Irish pubs.

Generations of Irish publicans would be rolling in their grave.

People have been charged with treason for less.

More than a dozen pubs later I walked into a slightly fancier looking place and hit the jackpot.

“Lamb and beef.” Replied the maître d’.

Winner!

Once seated a waitress filled our water glasses and handed us menus – not that I needed one.

A few minutes later she returned and after the girls placed their orders, I enthusiastically ordered the lamb roast.

The puzzled look on the face of the waitress was a bad sign.

“I think we only have roast beef.” She replied before scurrying off to the kitchen to check.

She returned to confirm the bad news.

My hopes for an Irish lamb roast sank quicker than Titanic.

It was time to launch the lunchtime lifeboat.

We abandoned ship and I turned to Miss H for rescue, “Okay, take us to the pizza place you spotted.”

 

[Pushka]

So much for Irish tradition

In Belfast it was back to the classic Halliday holiday mode – lots of walking.

We first passed the central clocktower.

View attachment 369219

If it looks familiar, that’s because it’s modelled on Big Ben.

We continued to Belfast City Hall which houses an excellent exhibition of the city’s history.

I rarely enjoy museums and galleries and much prefer scenery and natural attractions.

But this was an impressive set up and we spent almost two hours wandering through the exhibits.

I particularly enjoyed the display on the evolution of language in Belfast.

View attachment 369220

I’ve used “who ate the sugar off your bun” once or twice with Irish mates, drawing blank looks each time.

We were keen to see the Titanic Museum before the day was through.

But first needed to refuel.

Being a Sunday, I suggested we honour yet another Irish tradition: lamb roast at an Irish pub.

Predictably, Miss H wanted pizza.

While Mrs H turned to TripAdvisor to rule out anything that scored fewer than five stars any time in the past three months.

But at every pub we passed, Irish heritage was being trashed.

“Beef and chicken.” Said one chalkboard.

“Chicken and pork.” Spruiked another.

These places all dared to call themselves “traditional” Irish pubs.

Generations of Irish publicans would be rolling in their grave.

People have been charged with treason for less.

More than a dozen pubs later I walked into a slightly fancier looking place and hit the jackpot.

“Lamb and beef.” Replied the maître d’.

Winner!

Once seated a waitress filled our water glasses and handed us menus – not that I needed one.

A few minutes later she returned and after the girls placed their orders, I enthusiastically ordered the lamb roast.

The puzzled look on the face of the waitress was a bad sign.

“I think we only have roast beef.” She replied before scurrying off to the kitchen to check.

She returned to confirm the bad news.

My hopes for an Irish lamb roast sank quicker than Titanic.

It was time to launch the lunchtime lifeboat.

We abandoned ship and I turned to Miss H for rescue, “Okay, take us to the pizza place you spotted.”

My god I can only imagine what havoc you brought to the Titanic museum. (I really want to go there so trust it still exists after the visit)

 

[RooFlyer]

Additionally, I’d become IHG Diamond just before this trip so anticipated the benefits to be of use.

This thread (first post re IT a hotel uses) may be useful to you in your IHG journey in the future.

How rooms are allocated

This, maybe very old news to many here, but it was something I’ve always wondered about. My experience last night led me to query the general manager of the Holiday Inn Brisbane Central how rooms are actually allocated to booked guests. As IHG Plat I have ‘away from elevator’ and ‘high floor’...

www.australianfrequentflyer.com.au

Moral - don't rely on your profile - e-mail the day before as well. PITA !!

 

[Captain Halliday]

Titanic Museum

From all around Belfast you can see the two massive cranes at the port.

Named Samson & Goliath the cranes are 96 and 107 metres high respectively.

Used together they can lift 1,700 tonnes.



The cranes work the wharves adjacent to the Titanic Museum.

Surrounding the museum, there plenty of walking areas with views across the cruise ship terminal towards Belfast Castle.



Titanic Museum is housed in an impressive building on the eastern side of the River Lagan.



It was not high on my to-do list, but it turned out to be exceptional, and I’m very pleased we went.

It’s a one-way exhibit, that chronologically tells the story of Belfast’s ship building history, leading to the design and construction of Titanic.

You pass through exhibits that recreate the interior of the ship and are “introduced” to passengers and crew on the maiden voyage.

As the exhibit proceeded through the sinking and rescue efforts, you begin to know the characters on board.

By the time you reach the part of the museum depicting the search for the wreckage, you feel a sense of investment in finding the ship.

This leads to the finale of the exhibit which includes impressive vision from the remotely operated submarine that found the wreck.

It’s built into the floor and gives the impression you’re diving around the wreck.





On display around the walls are items recovered during the rescue.



Outside the exhibit, you can walk around the slipway where Titanic was built.

Beyond is the channel in the river Lagan where the ship left Belfast for sea trials.



Your admission to the Titanic Museum also includes access to Titanic’s tender, SS Nomadic in the adjacent drydock.

These tickets are valid for one year and we decided to return another day because a storm was rolling in over the hills to the west.

 

[zig]

So much for Irish tradition

In Belfast it was back to the classic Halliday holiday mode – lots of walking.

We first passed the central clocktower.

View attachment 369219

If it looks familiar, that’s because it’s modelled on Big Ben.

We continued to Belfast City Hall which houses an excellent exhibition of the city’s history.

I rarely enjoy museums and galleries and much prefer scenery and natural attractions.

But this was an impressive set up and we spent almost two hours wandering through the exhibits.

I particularly enjoyed the display on the evolution of language in Belfast.

View attachment 369220

I’ve used “who ate the sugar off your bun” once or twice with Irish mates, drawing blank looks each time.

We were keen to see the Titanic Museum before the day was through.

But first needed to refuel.

Being a Sunday, I suggested we honour yet another Irish tradition: lamb roast at an Irish pub.

Predictably, Miss H wanted pizza.

While Mrs H turned to TripAdvisor to rule out anything that scored fewer than five stars any time in the past three months.

But at every pub we passed, Irish heritage was being trashed.

“Beef and chicken.” Said one chalkboard.

“Chicken and pork.” Spruiked another.

These places all dared to call themselves “traditional” Irish pubs.

Generations of Irish publicans would be rolling in their grave.

People have been charged with treason for less.

More than a dozen pubs later I walked into a slightly fancier looking place and hit the jackpot.

“Lamb and beef.” Replied the maître d’.

Winner!

Once seated a waitress filled our water glasses and handed us menus – not that I needed one.

A few minutes later she returned and after the girls placed their orders, I enthusiastically ordered the lamb roast.

The puzzled look on the face of the waitress was a bad sign.

“I think we only have roast beef.” She replied before scurrying off to the kitchen to check.

She returned to confirm the bad news.

My hopes for an Irish lamb roast sank quicker than Titanic.

It was time to launch the lunchtime lifeboat.

We abandoned ship and I turned to Miss H for rescue, “Okay, take us to the pizza place you spotted.”

I was born in Belfast, although left at a young age. I am familiar with a lot of the colloquial expressions having heard them from my parents and from family on return trips to Belfast. The only expression I have heard of from that list is 'He's a quare geg', this was one frequently used by my father.

 

[Captain Halliday]

Dunluce

The next day the weather was again favourable for outdoor activities, and we set off to explore the northern coastline.

Starting with coffee in the town of Portree we then tracked to coastline towards the East.

Our first stop was Dunluce.



Along this entire stretch of coast, weathered cliffs drop sharply into the sea.



Even on a calm day, the Atlantic Ocean pounds the shoreline with force.



Atop the cliffs of Dunluce sits an abandoned castle.

According to the sign it was built between the 15th and 17th centuries.

Why they didn’t just say “16th century” remains a mystery.



For a small fee you can go inside.

We skipped this because we wanted more time at other stops, but we did walk around the outside of the castle (free).



Dunluce and Dunluce Castle make are worth a stop if you're in the area, but don't go out of your way to visit.