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Warning - this is a rather long rambling post. It's typed over a couple of days, so doesn't reallty flow - sorry!

Last Saturday we were up at five and left the house at half past. This was according to my carefully planned schedule for our Irish holiday. Normally when we go away we take our caravan, and leave when we're ready (i.e. when Henry has finished work). But this time we had a deadline - time and tide don't wait for us and we were booked onto a ferry leaving from Craigryan. I had worried about a lot of things that could go wrong, and the first on my list was missing the boat. I imagined traffic hold ups, roadworks, slow moving wagons etc., and allowed plenty of time. In the event none of these happened and we were lined up waiting for the ferry in plenty of time. We sat in the car in the allocated lane and watched the boat come in and unload.

The next of my worries was parking in the boat, and would there be room for me to open the door and get out. But of course there was no trouble at all. (I've taken lots of photos of the boat at request of Grandson 4).

We were lucky (or maybe not everyone wanted to see the sea) to get seats right at the front (bow or pointed end) and could look out over the rather choppy sea. Worry number 3 concerned seasickness, but either the pills worked or we're not susceptible.

We even relaxed enough (well, it was only really me who was worried) to have coffee and cake. Gradually the clouds lifted and we could see the Irish coast. More photos for Fletcher to show the front opening and us driving off at Larne.

We drove south round Belfast to our friend Helen's near Millisle. This was the start of a reunion of seven girls who first met 44 years ago at Edge Hill College. Unfortunately one of the others was on holiday and poor Liz fell and broke her ankle the day before. But with husbands and partners we were still a lucky party of thirteen.  We were the last to arrive and Helen gave us a quick tour of the Ards Peninsula and I tried to take as many photos as possible. Not all have come out as well as I hoped, but this is one of the best - the harbour at Portavogie (I think!)

We drove past sandy beaches and rocks, through Ballywalter, Ballyhalbert, Portavogie  - where I think I took this (George Best lived (and drank) round here).

Then cut across to Portaferry. This was were we saw the first obvious signs of the affects of the recession. Whole streets were boarded up, but there were still impressive houses overlooking the lough.  We watched the affects of the tides and winds on the water, which generate electricity through SeaGen - click on the link which explains it better than I can.

I took more photos from Windmill Hill then we drove back up the side of the lough to Helen's house. We were staying in a nearby B & B, but met up with the rest of the party for supper, drinks, catching up and to play Canasta. When we were young penniless students we regularly played, and some had kept it up over past 40+ years. Henry and I hadn't played for about 15-20 years (and not in pairs for much longer), but after a quick reminder of the rules it came back and despite my rustiness and recklessness I came out a winner.

Next day on Sunday we headed up north, through the outskirts of Belfast and up the Antrim coast. By now the weather was definitely worsening and though the views were dramatic, it was not a day for photographs, so here's a link to the route we took. We cut across from Coleraine to Limavady to the shelter of our hotel, where we were spending two nights of luxury - still with our party of what someone called "recycled teenagers". On Monday the weather was no better, as the tail end of Hurricane Katia hit Ireland, but we decided to head west into Donegal. We were armed with a map, SatNav and camera and set off for foreign parts. With no border controls the first time we realised we were not in the UK was when our phones beeped to tell us we were "roaming" and the speed signs changed to kph. We wandered up the west coast of the Inishowen peninsula. We had no real route planned and just followed what looked like interesting roads. Eventually we saw signs to Malin Head, which looking at the map, seemed to be at the end of the world. We stopped at a small gravelled viewpoint and looked out over the Atlantic. By now the wind made opening the car difficult, but in the interests of photography I got out and leaned against the car to try to steady myself. The photographs don't do the experience justice, but as I was buffeted by the wind and rain on all sides I was pleased with what I got.

So, back in the car, close the door and prepare to head back to civilisation and shelter. Disaster! The car wouldn't start. It seemed to be the same, or similar symptoms, to the problem we had earlier in the year when we were in the caravan. That time we were on a campsite near Carlisle, knowing our exact location, and called the AA who were out in 30 minutes. This time were on an unmarked road (before we stopped,  the SatNav seemed to be placing us in the middle of nowhere), that may be one of several on our map (no road signs for the past 5/10 miles) and nothing but the sea on one side and unoccupied wilderness on the other. We could see a white house in the distance but nothing else. Could we call the AA? We had a signal on the phone (but can't get it one in our house!), but as we were in a foreign country, didn't know whether they could help - and how could we explain where we were? We got the handbook out. Sat and panicked a bit more and tried the car again. Nothing. Panicked even more and tried one more time - a flicker of life and the engine started! Deciding our luck wouldn't last any longer, we headed back down the track and found the quickest route back to villages, towns and safety of garages etc. We didn't dare stop the engine and I breathed I sigh of relief as we crossed back into Northern Ireland.

We put our troubles to the back of our minds (out of site, out of mind in the car park) and enjoyed another good night of food, drink and nostalgia.

Next morning, after another lie in (could get used to it), we said goodbye to our friends who were flying or sailing home. We had another two days in yet another posh hotel. We took our cases downstairs and Henry went to fetch the car nearer. He was soon back - but with no car. Dead again. This time there was no hesitation. I called the AA. In about an hour a local AA man had started the car and advised us to get the battery looked at. He led the way to a tyre place about a mile away and they confirmed the battery was definitely useless. Twenty minutes and £96 later we were on our way again. We went back up to the coast road, vaguely following our map. We headed for Magilligan Point (passing the prison and firing range), where we could look over to part of Donegal we missed the day before). For once the sun was out and the sand was golden.

Still following the map, we ended up at Bushmills and the distillery. The next tour was due in 10 minutes so things were working out for us. We've been round a couple of other distilleries, but this was the most geared up for tours - a good insight to what was happening (it was all working), but very safe. And of course, as all tours do, it ended in the shop. And of course you have to buy something. A good job we have a whisky drinker in the house (but in this case whiskey).

We continued down the coast, detouring down a side road to Ballintoy. By now the weather had closed in again but that made the seas look more dramatic.

We had hoped to visit The Giants Causeway, but our delayed start (re car) and several detours meant we had to miss it this time, as we were heading for our next hotel. We also missed crossing the Rope Bridge at Carrick-a-Rede (not that I would have been crossing it), but stopped off a bit farther down the coast and got it on film.

Another hotel, another good dinner and glass (or two) of wine, another good sleep and another good breakfast. Next day we planned a different tour and thought we would drive round Lough Neagh, getting as close to the shore as possible. This was a less successful day - it was more urban and industrialised around the main roads, and when we ventured off onto minor roads we had a tendency to get lost (partly because of a complete lack of signposts on the myriad of junctions). When we passed a building for the second time in 30 minutes we thought we were destined to drive the same circuit all day. We had been looking for Washing Bay (no reason - just saw the name on the map). The weather was getting worse and we knew our hotel room was warm and dry with a comfy settee, so we put the postcode in the SatNav and took the more or less direct route back.

One more night of comfort and luxury and then a leisurely breakfast and drive to the ferry. For once the sky was blue and the sun was shining. The sea was calm and the crossing on the P & O Express only took an hour. The journey back from Cairnryan was not as restful as last Saturday - much more fast-moving traffic. We stopped off near Dumfries, and were back home by 5.30 - just in time for Henry to feed 50 calves (or did I mishear, and it was 15?).

We had let the Aga go out so the house was cold, but after supper at Wellbank we were glad to be able to sleep in our own bed (there's nothing like it). Henry planned to clean out and service the Aga ready for winter, so yesterday was still cold, but much earlier than last year we lit the wood burner and now it's almost too hot! This morning Henry has sorted out the Aga and by tonight it should be up to temperature and I can start to cook again, after nearly a week off.

I called this post "Back Home", meaning we are are back at Strickley, but in some ways it could mean I was back home in Ireland, as my great great grandmother, Elizabeth Cormack,  was born there in 1821