Day 15
9:40 am
Borrowing an idea from dad, I put milk, some of the leftover rice and a teaspoon of honey in a saucepan and brought it to the boil. I’m not sure how it will taste. At the same time, I used Christoff’s espresso machine and now have a cup of wonderful smelling black coffee to go with it. The pins and needles in my left thumb have subsided somewhat. Now I only feel it when that hand is in warm water, like the shower or when washing dishes.
Talking about showers ... The shower here is fantastic! It is electric. When you switch it on, hot water comes straight away! And you can adjust it by turning a dial! No more standing naked on freezing tiles waiting for the water to turn hot.
1:20 pm
I am breaking for lunch. I started working about 10:15. I have been weeding non-stop. It actually doesn’t look like I have done all that much, but I am impressed with myself! My hands were hurting with cold, so when I go back out I will put my gloves under the gardening gloves that Maire has given me and see if it makes a difference.
The weather is absolutely beautiful. No wind. The sun is shining - there is even a slight amount of warmth to be found form it. That’s a novelty. A hint of rain, still very cold, though. The sun is a long way south. I find that very strange. I wonder what Stockholm’s sun will be like?
5 pm
Happy Brendon. I have been to the phone box to make some calls. First, I rang the Doherty’s about tomorrow evening - no problems. Then I rang Mary Alcock, Alex’s mum and she sounded very pleased to speak to me and she invited me to stay for a couple of days. Very nice of her.
As an aside, I rang Madelene and she is healthy and happy and warm.
The phone box has been vandalised at some point and on two sides, the top half of the glass has been smashed, so the wind and rain (which picked up as darkness fell) go straight into the box. It’s a wonder the phone keeps working.
I was so cold I couldn’t talk properly by the time I spoke to Madelene. My mouth didn’t seem to open properly, and I couldn’t work my jaw without slurring all of my words.
The holes in my woollen gloves have gotten larger and now my two index fingers are permanently on show. As a result, my hands are often snug and warm, except for the pain I feel in those two fingers.
Tomorrow I am going to ride to Whitecastle. It’s going to be my biggest ride yet. What is worse, from Culdaff for about 10 km it will be uphill. I will ascend 100 metres before going back down to sea level within a kilometre or so.
I have realised that from here my trip is somewhat blind. I came to Inishowen and have explored it well, but I don’t know what to see now. Sure, I will ride from Portstewart to Dublin, but it will be nice to see some tourist spots on the way. I think I will go to Derry, see the walls, etc. and then find a public library where I can get a Let’s Go or Lonely Planet type of book and plan my route. It will take me through Armagh and there will be plenty of things to see there. The problem is accommodation. I have to go out of town to find some nice farmers, yet in a town is where the attractions are. If I get some hostel phone numbers from the book, maybe I can ring them and see if I can get in cheap for a bit of work.
One day I will come to Ireland with a bike, a Let’s Go and plenty of money. I will ride from hostel to hostel and properly see any attraction. My bag will be that much lighter form having no tent, as well.
11:55 pm
Maire and Christoff invited me to have dinner with them. A nice potato dish that my mother used to make and deep-fried lamb. The potatoes were laid out in a dish, sprinkled with nutmeg, salt and pepper covered with cream and put in the oven for twenty minutes. Then they are covered with grated cheese and put in for another ten minutes.
It was very nice talking to them. Maire told me lots of little anecdotes about rural Irish life, the most memorable being the postman at Christmas time. Rather than leaving a bottle of whiskey in the post box, it seems the that the Irish invite the postie in for a wee drink on Christmas Eve. After only half his round, the postie is well drunk and is trying to get around on his bike but failing miserably. Unfortunately, Maire had to go visit someone, so Christoff and I talked until now. While talking, I washed the dishes - it was the least I could do after such good food, coffee and desserts. We had a great conversation. We started talking about cars, and then turned to the concept of a fifth and sixth dimension and from there to religion. I guess all conversations in Ireland seem to turn to either politics or religion eventually - the very topics I determined not to broach when I got here.
I wanted to write this, so I made my excuses. The fire had died out by the time I got back here, so I went in and got some wood and matches (and a firelighter) and made my very own coal fire. Very exciting.
I am a little bit hungry, so I heated up the Heinz spaghetti I bought yesterday and added the rest of the unhoneyed, milked rice in an effort to get rid of the bloody stuff.
It is sitting in a bowl about half a foot away looking rather unappetising. Heinz Spaghetti is not very impressive over here. The tomato sauce it floats in looks tired and watered down.
Tomorrow, Christoff will drive me to Carn and show me the bog. Then I will ride from there to Whitecastle. He offered to take me to Whitecastle if the weather is as bad tomorrow as it is now (windy, cold and wet ... what else?) I can justify this in that the reason I brought the bike to Ireland was to get around cheaply, so getting a lift is just as cheap!
Also, Maire gave me a bag of Carraigeen (pronounced ‘caraken’) which is a seaweed that makes a nice dessert ... apparently.
Borrowing an idea from dad, I put milk, some of the leftover rice and a teaspoon of honey in a saucepan and brought it to the boil. I’m not sure how it will taste. At the same time, I used Christoff’s espresso machine and now have a cup of wonderful smelling black coffee to go with it. The pins and needles in my left thumb have subsided somewhat. Now I only feel it when that hand is in warm water, like the shower or when washing dishes.
Talking about showers ... The shower here is fantastic! It is electric. When you switch it on, hot water comes straight away! And you can adjust it by turning a dial! No more standing naked on freezing tiles waiting for the water to turn hot.
1:20 pm
I am breaking for lunch. I started working about 10:15. I have been weeding non-stop. It actually doesn’t look like I have done all that much, but I am impressed with myself! My hands were hurting with cold, so when I go back out I will put my gloves under the gardening gloves that Maire has given me and see if it makes a difference.
The weather is absolutely beautiful. No wind. The sun is shining - there is even a slight amount of warmth to be found form it. That’s a novelty. A hint of rain, still very cold, though. The sun is a long way south. I find that very strange. I wonder what Stockholm’s sun will be like?
5 pm
Happy Brendon. I have been to the phone box to make some calls. First, I rang the Doherty’s about tomorrow evening - no problems. Then I rang Mary Alcock, Alex’s mum and she sounded very pleased to speak to me and she invited me to stay for a couple of days. Very nice of her.
As an aside, I rang Madelene and she is healthy and happy and warm.
The phone box has been vandalised at some point and on two sides, the top half of the glass has been smashed, so the wind and rain (which picked up as darkness fell) go straight into the box. It’s a wonder the phone keeps working.
I was so cold I couldn’t talk properly by the time I spoke to Madelene. My mouth didn’t seem to open properly, and I couldn’t work my jaw without slurring all of my words.
The holes in my woollen gloves have gotten larger and now my two index fingers are permanently on show. As a result, my hands are often snug and warm, except for the pain I feel in those two fingers.
Tomorrow I am going to ride to Whitecastle. It’s going to be my biggest ride yet. What is worse, from Culdaff for about 10 km it will be uphill. I will ascend 100 metres before going back down to sea level within a kilometre or so.
I have realised that from here my trip is somewhat blind. I came to Inishowen and have explored it well, but I don’t know what to see now. Sure, I will ride from Portstewart to Dublin, but it will be nice to see some tourist spots on the way. I think I will go to Derry, see the walls, etc. and then find a public library where I can get a Let’s Go or Lonely Planet type of book and plan my route. It will take me through Armagh and there will be plenty of things to see there. The problem is accommodation. I have to go out of town to find some nice farmers, yet in a town is where the attractions are. If I get some hostel phone numbers from the book, maybe I can ring them and see if I can get in cheap for a bit of work.
One day I will come to Ireland with a bike, a Let’s Go and plenty of money. I will ride from hostel to hostel and properly see any attraction. My bag will be that much lighter form having no tent, as well.
11:55 pm
Maire and Christoff invited me to have dinner with them. A nice potato dish that my mother used to make and deep-fried lamb. The potatoes were laid out in a dish, sprinkled with nutmeg, salt and pepper covered with cream and put in the oven for twenty minutes. Then they are covered with grated cheese and put in for another ten minutes.
It was very nice talking to them. Maire told me lots of little anecdotes about rural Irish life, the most memorable being the postman at Christmas time. Rather than leaving a bottle of whiskey in the post box, it seems the that the Irish invite the postie in for a wee drink on Christmas Eve. After only half his round, the postie is well drunk and is trying to get around on his bike but failing miserably. Unfortunately, Maire had to go visit someone, so Christoff and I talked until now. While talking, I washed the dishes - it was the least I could do after such good food, coffee and desserts. We had a great conversation. We started talking about cars, and then turned to the concept of a fifth and sixth dimension and from there to religion. I guess all conversations in Ireland seem to turn to either politics or religion eventually - the very topics I determined not to broach when I got here.
I wanted to write this, so I made my excuses. The fire had died out by the time I got back here, so I went in and got some wood and matches (and a firelighter) and made my very own coal fire. Very exciting.
I am a little bit hungry, so I heated up the Heinz spaghetti I bought yesterday and added the rest of the unhoneyed, milked rice in an effort to get rid of the bloody stuff.
It is sitting in a bowl about half a foot away looking rather unappetising. Heinz Spaghetti is not very impressive over here. The tomato sauce it floats in looks tired and watered down.
Tomorrow, Christoff will drive me to Carn and show me the bog. Then I will ride from there to Whitecastle. He offered to take me to Whitecastle if the weather is as bad tomorrow as it is now (windy, cold and wet ... what else?) I can justify this in that the reason I brought the bike to Ireland was to get around cheaply, so getting a lift is just as cheap!
Also, Maire gave me a bag of Carraigeen (pronounced ‘caraken’) which is a seaweed that makes a nice dessert ... apparently.
- Put Carraigeen in a cup of cold water for 5 minutes
- Take Carraigeen out and put in a saucepan of milk (2 pints for the amount I have).
- Bring to the boil
- Remove from heat
- Add some sugar
- Strain and throw away Carraigeen
- Leave the milk to set.
Hmm. I have no idea how I’ll get this into Australia, but I’ll carry it around the backpack for now.
Today I spent 80p at the post office and £1.20 at the phone box.
Hoorah! The three or four pounds made in the last few days of saving will no doubt be blown on the bus fare to Coleraine from Derry.
posted by Bren Carlill @ 6:48 AM
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