Heading North

I’m under the weather today and sorry for myself. My own fault completely as I succumbed to some brown homemade soda bread and a homemade seeded brown scone - and I’m GF. So I didn’t bother shouting at the Ghastly Sat.Nav who, when asked to take me on the M1 to Belfast, chose this instead. 

I appreciate that the motorways I’ve been on this far have been remarkably free of traffic, but grass growing down the middle? I think not. 

Stopped off at a chemist in Drogheda for emergency aid, and met an oil painter, complete with easel painting a street scene. Had a brief chat and was delighted when he confirmed that he too intends to paint on his holidays and gets home having done none. 

 Again some wonderful street art. This was on the side of a large building in town centre

Continued towards Belfast. Sat.Nav is still just putting all four tyres on the most direct motorway route, for approximately two and a half minutes, before telling me I need to “turn left” and dragging me over hill and dale. Surely this must be adding hours to my time but at least I get to see wonderful countryside. 

When you cross the border into Wales or Scotland you are notified that you are leaving England and being welcomed into another land. 

Not so here.

No ‘Welcome to Northern Ireland,’ just a huge hoarding featuring Boris Johnston and Brexit - not in a nice way.  The differences were small but obvious. 

• English number plates on cars
• No more Irish language in evidence and Penney’s is back to being called Primark and Dealz back to Poundland.
• All yellow road signs and road markings also disappeared and replaced with red black and white ones all over England
• Sadly you are now asked to Give Way  at junctions instead of the gentler request to Yield.

I’m still not particularly interested in the cities as I think they are better as a weekend break destination but I was surprised to find Belfast surrounded by hills.

I am staying in an area called Dundonal tonight. 

I can see this famous landmark from my bedroom window. 

 

It’s Stormont, the seat of the Northern Ireland Parliament. My sister’s partner Stephen was keen to point out that it’s humongous size for such a small population, was to impress with power. And the impression of power in Politics is crucial apparently. 

Tomorrow a very different kind of politics and one I can’t wait to experience and the real reason I’m in Belfast.