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July rolled around, and before heading home to Australia for the Summer holidays, I had one more glorious sporting event to attend. It was all thanks to the most amazing and generous Captain, who procured tickets to the second Ashes test at Lords, and who found herself with a spare ticket thanks to a bit of a muck up with dates.
The tickets were for the day one of the test - a Thursday, and literally the day before I left my job and flew out. I feigned a migraine, threw on my Australian cricket shirt, and headed into London to meet up with the Captain. We got off the tube (after I gave a guy in a suit a lesson about sportsmanship when he booed me), and joined the masses heading for Lords. We had to queue for a bit, and were anxious to make it inside for the first ball. We ended up missing it, because I had to go through the rigmarole of having my bag searched and my flag confiscated (although I got it back at the end of the day). Somehow the Captain managed to get through with hers - rather unfair I thought!
We found our seats and settled in for some good cricket. Unfortunately for us, England had their best ever opening stand against Australia. Andrew Strauss also brought up his 5000th career test run. We were on our feet applauding all of the achievements, and had our good sportsmanship commented upon by the British guys beside us - take that, Nasty Tube Man! Eventually though, wickets began to fall, and we were rubbing it in wholeheartedly.
Ricky Ponting is second from the left.
Mitchell Johnson
The Australian end of the Member's Pavillion
It was a great day, and I'm glad I can say I've been to the Ashes at Lords. Next time though, I'll try to get tickets for somewhere with a bit of atmosphere. Somewhere that I can keep hold of my flag. Somewhere that people don't wear suits to!
My trip to Ireland saw the end of May, and June meant one thing - Wimbledon. The Captain and I decided to do what we'd done the year before - go on the middle Saturday, turn up at 8am, queue for hours and have a bloody good day. This year we also took a picnic breakfast, and enjoyed ham and cheese croissants, strawberries and orange juice whilst marking our place in the endless queue.
The Captain soaking up the sun.
The weather was great. In fact, we were in the middle of a level 3 'heatwave', meaning that temperatures got up to 30 degrees during the day and not less than 17 at night. We found this quite funny, but nevertheless enjoyed the sunshine. Eventually though, my poor fair skin was at risk, so I did the very British thing and sat under an umbrella in the sunshine, whilst the Captain worked on her tan.
We got in at about lunch time, the same as we had the year before despite being further back in the queue. We again did something terribly British - we got straight into another queue! We wanted to get onto court 3, as a few of the big names were playing there. Eventually we did get in, just in time to see Jelena Jankovic (ranked 6th) lose to Melanie Oudin, an 18 year old American girl (ranked 124th). We stayed were we were to watch Amelie Mauresmo play Flavia Pennetta. I'm pretty sure that GMTV's John Stapleton was in the audience for that on... Bit of celeb spotting on top of great tennis!
Jelena Jankovic
Amelie Mauresmo
I think that's John Stapleton, front row, to the right of the guy in the white hat.
After that we decided to go for a wander. We went past Caroline Wozniacki playing ladies doubles. We saw her play last year, so we stopped to watch for a little bit. The Captain had a couple of friends there this year, and one of them messaged her to say they'd managed to blag their way onto court 2 and were watching Lleyton Hewitt play. The challenge was on - we had to get there too! Court 2 is one of the courts that you can't get into with just an ground pass. We finally found a guy willing to let us in, and we got to watch Dinara Safina, who was women's world number 1 at the time. Not too shabby!
Caroline Wozniacki
Dinara Safina
Then it was back to court 3, this time for some Aussie action. We had planned all day to see Sam Stosur and Renee Stubbs playing in the doubles, and not only did we see them play, we saw them win AND we got Sam Stosur's autograph. Needless to say, Nan did not get that particular copy of the program! They played against Amelie Mauresmo and Svetlana Kuznetsova, so we got to watch four great women play (well, three great women and one half man/half woman!).
Sam Stosur and Renee Stubbs, with Stosur signing the program for the Captain.
Last but not least, we had one more thing we wanted to accomplish. We wanted to get into centre court. In the end, it was easier to get into centre court than it was to get into court 2! We just walked straight in. Granted, the last match had just finished, but we did get to see the brand new roof close and pretend for a while that we were amongst the lucky ones for a change.
Centre Court.
We were pretty much at the end of play for the day by then, so it was time for the long trip home to Essex. I forgot to put in for the ballot for this year, so if I want to go again, looks like it'll be hours in the queue once again!
We woke up to our last morning of the tour in Belfast, and had some time before boarding the bus, so we took our time to shower and get organised, and went off on our own for breakfast and a bit of quiet time. I headed up to Starbucks and wrote on a few postcards, before being found by some of the others and hanging out with them.
Our first stop for the day was at a former monastery that was apparently founded by St Buite, who died in 521. None of the original buildings remain, but there are several that were built in the 10th century. There's not a lot to say about it really, apart from the fact that the Vikings occupied it for a while, which is kind of cool.
Our 'Team Nerd' family photo. Back - Grasshoppa, me, the Captain. Front - DPA. Absent - Big Mumma and N-Dog.
Eventually we were on the road back to Dublin, our trip nearing its end. We did the obligatory tour of the Guiness factory (this inevitably would have been more enjoyable had I actually liked Guiness), finishing with the girls enjoying a few pints.
The Captain, DPA, Grasshoppa and N-Dog enjoying their pints.
That really was the end of the tour then. Connor dropped us off near Paddy's Palace, where we had begun a week before, strangers instead of the friends and Team Nerd that we were at the end of it. The Captain and I arranged to meet up with Grasshoppa and Big Mumma for dinner, as we were staying at different places. Matt and Robyn had managed to book into the same hostel as us, so we trekked up there, got changed, and headed down to the Stiffey on the Liffey to meet the others. We were going back to Luigi Malones because food was definitely worth a second trip. The ribs had been calling for me all week long... Matt and Robyn also ended up joining us for dinner, which was good fun.
After we'd eaten ourselves into a food coma, we said goodbye to Grasshoppa and Big Mumma (as Big Mumma was flying out), and we headed down into the Temple Bar region for a few drinks. We ended up running into quite a few more of the people from the tour, so much drinking and merriment ensued. Having decided not to drink, I cabbed it back to the hostel, leaving the Captain in the capable hands of Matt and Robyn. She got back in the early hours of the morning, trying to break into the room as she couldn't work the card key! I thought someone was trying to break in, so that was a great way to wake up. I distinctly remember some drunken ramblings about a burger, and about needing a shower, and me having to explain the concept of a Pommie bath to her. I managed to convince her to just go to bed, meaning I too could go back to sleep!
The next morning was a bit of a revelation for the Captain - quite by accident I prompted her into remembering she'd kissed not just one guy, but two during the previous night. What happens in Ireland stays in Ireland, except when you have a travel blog! We headed down the street in need of caffeine and munchies. We spent the remainder of the day wandering around Dublin, doing a bit of shopping (I had to buy a dress for the prom, having made a deal with one of the kids), and generally enjoying ourselves before heading out to the airport, exhausted but very happy.
The morning dawned far too early for my liking, having had yet another late one the night before (not to mention having had a few drinks!). The Captain wanted to get up early and go exploring, and I woke up as she was getting herself ready and decided to go and find a place to have a bit of me-time. I ended up walking down to the cliffs. The day was gorgeous - bright blue skies, reasonably warm, and the views were spectactular - rolling green hills down to the blue sea.
I was walking down there when Mum and Dad called, so it was all pretty special. I found a nice little spot overlooking the water and a few boats, and settled in with my book. Eventually a few of the others from the tour strolled past, and a while after that along came the Captain. I ended up racing her back up the hill towards the hostel (no prizes for guessing who got her ass whipped, and it certainly wasn't the Captain!). We showered and organised our stuff, set Grasshoppa up for a good call on the degradation of her attitude for a word of the day win, and headed out to the bus.
Our first stop for the morning was the Carrick-a- Rede rope bridge. It was a scenic walk along the clifftops (with a slight pause for Grasshoppa to fall into some stinging nettles laughing at the concept of FOMO), and then we got to the bridge. Let's just say it's not for the faint of heart. The bridge is 20m long, and 30m above the rocks and ocean. Fishermen used to use the bridge for salmon fishing, although it's not done any more.
The bridge took us over to Carrick Island, which is basically a grassy knoll atop a huge rock. We posed for many photos, and tried to get a group jump shot (which I also fail miserably at!). Then it was back across the rickety bridge, up the God-knows-how-many steps and back across the clifftops to the bus.
From Carrick-a-Rede we headed to the place I had most looked forward to seeing, and was especially excited about spending my birthday at: the giant's causeway. I have long wanted to visit the place, and I was certainly not disappointed. I missed most of Connor's history of the place, and the legends surrounding it, because I got a phone call from Matt and Jo. I finished the call just as we were pulling up *sigh* We hopped off the bus and decided that we'd take the Shepherd's path across the top, down the cliff face and straight to the causeway. It was a pretty phenomenal experience. We were so high up, you couldn't really make out the individual rocks that make up the causeway.
Somehow we ended up singing a bit of Queen on the way down, helped out by Robyn and Matt - completely random, completely hilarious! We even posed for our own version of the Queen II album cover!
Finally we made it down to the causeway. For once in my life, there was no hesitation to go climbing on things that would normally deter me because I'm so damn unfit. I was a freaking mountain goat that day! I absolutely adored being there. I definitely was in no hurry to get going, even though we were quickly running out of time. There was a whole lot of posing going on, that's for sure!
I ended up catching the shuttle bus back up to the top (there was no way I was going to make it up on foot, and 27 was too young to die, especially on my birthday!). I was totally soft about it, but I'm ok with that! We had a little bit of time to check out the souvenirs, grab a cold drink and get back onto the bus.
From the giant's causeway we headed to Belfast. As we drove through the city, I was feeling slightly nervous. There'd been some attacks the week before, the usual violence between the Protestants and the Catholics. I wasn't overly worried, until Connor decided to tell us that the hostel wasn't named Paddy's Palace as that would make it a target for attack, and that he wouldn't be leaving the bus anywhere near the hostel for the same reason. In fact, several of the coaches were torched a few years before just because they play up the whole Irish leprachaun stereotype and the locals don't appreciate it. Awesome. Felt totally safe then.
It got better. We decided to do the black cab tour, which was the only way for us to easily see Belfast without the coach. We were booked for a later tour, so we popped up the road for a Starbucks break and some lunch, then went back to the hostel to shower and change for the evening. We had to hang around for a while waiting for the cab (we thought we'd been forgotten actually), but eventually one showed up. It was full of other members of our group, and they said the tour was fantastic.
Our driver took us straight into the Protestant area and parked in a dodgy kind of park. We were surrounded by murals, similar to what we had seen the day before in Derry. He gave us a bit of a rundown of the area, then told us we could get out and take photos of the murals, but he would drive a little further down to pick us up, and he'd be leaving the engine running. Turns out he'd been kidnapped there before and tortured for 3 days. Yep, feeling TOTALLY safe. We had a (very) quick walk through to where he drove up to, snapping pictures as quickly as we could. This is where the mural is of the soldier in a balaclava pointing a gun at you - I swear it follows you no matter where you stand. Scary stuff.
Once we got back in the cab, we drove through the gates (which are still closed every night) in the wall that separates the Protestant and Catholic areas, getting a little more history along the way. We then stopped at the peace wall. Basically this is one section of the peace lines that segregate the Protestants and Catholics, but it's dedicated to finding peace between the two groups. It's obviously painted over every so often, but stopped to sign our names (vandals that we are!).
We then headed through the Catholic areas, hearing more stories of some of the terrible things that happened during the Troubles. It's hard to believe that people can do such horrible things just because someone believes in a slightly different religion to you (and the history that goes with it, but really, religion is the root of all evil!). We heard stories of murder, kidnapping, torture, and other brutal crimes. This was definitely putting a downer on our trip, but was very worthwhile hearing about first hand.
Eventually our tour came to an end, and we were dropped off near a pub, where the DPA was meeting up with a friend of hers. We (the Captain, Grasshoppa, Big Mumma and I) ended up leaving her there and heading off to find somewhere for dinner. We found a Thai restaurant, and had one of the best meals of the trip. I had my birthday dinner in a Thai restaurant in Belfast, with another Aussie and two Americans, drinking French liquer. Totally awesome.
After dinner we headed back down the street to have a drink, and ended up at - where else - a JD Wetherspoons! The Captain and I don't travel without a visit to a Wetherspoons somewhere! Quite a few drinks later (to the surprise of the Captain at least), I called time on the night and headed back to the hostel. It had been an amazing day, an amazing birthday, and it will be a long time before I have a better one.
After a huge night in Galway, we packed up and headed out on the road. Our first stop for the morning was the Knock Shrine. In 1879, a whole bunch of people saw what they believed was an apparition of Mary, St Joseph and John the Baptist, in the local church. The church has now become a shrine and is visited by thousands of pilgrims every year. Pope John Paul II visited there in 1979, and its popularity isn't showing signs of decreasing.
It does say knock...
The entrance to the church.
From Knock we headed over to Sligo, where William Butler Yeats is buried. Plenty of other famous people have come from Sligo, including Westlife, although we were banned from mentioning their existence by our bus driver. It was almost worth tempting fate, if there wasn't a chance we'd be left behind!
William Butler Yeats' grave.
We stopped for the afternoon in Derry. The official name of the city remains Londonderry, but the council are trying to officially change the name. Nationalists (Catholics) would rather have no reference at all to London, Unionists (Protestants) stand firm on maintaining the link to Great Britain. We tried to just not refer to it by name at all for fear of offending someone! We were in Derry to do a walking tour. The guide had to be one of the worst I've ever seen. He started the tour by lecturing us to stay close to him so that we could hear, and that we wouldn't be able to complain about not hearing him if we didn't essentially stand in each other's pockets. He then proceeded to barely speak above a whisper. Whilst standing on the side of busy roads at rush hour. Totally smart. I doubt more than the closest 5 people could hear him, and even they would have caught only every second or third word. The walking tour was essentially a waste of time, because I've learnt far more about the place from doing my own reading afterwards than I did on the tour.
Unionist areas are noted by the red, white and blue gutters.
Some of the many murals painted on the ends of houses.
The memorial for the victims of the Bloody Sunday massacre.
Grasshoppa, the Captain and the DPA at the pub in Ballintoy. Can't remember why they were pointing at me!
Grasshoppa singing her song.
Day three dawned far too bright and far too early for our liking. We spent most of the morning driving, headed for the Cliffs of Moher. The weather had held up thus far, but it was set to change, albeit temporarily. We stopped for lunch, with Team Nerd as we were quickly becoming congregating in a pub around two small tables. This led to the now-infamous 'circle of trust' incident (which is understood by fellow team members, but is too long-winded to explain here). Suffice to say I was left with a circle and Grasshoppa lost hers.
The weather by this stage was turning grey and misty. We'd hoped to have it clear off before we arrived at the Cliffs of Moher, but it was to be the one single disappointment of the tour. The cliffs rise up to 214m where we visited, but visibility was down to 2 or 3 metres or so. Ridiculous! The wind was whipping around us, and we were hit with rain and spray from the waves below. It was insane, and yet loads of fun. The best picture of the cliffs in the end was a picture of a picture - taken inside the visitor centre. Oh well, I'll just have to go back again!
The spectacular and wondrous Cliffs of Moher. Or not.
Ghost cows!
Trying to cross the path - more difficult than it should have been!
The picture of a picture - the cliffs as they should have looked.
Heading out to explore the Burren.
The Captain taking a moment.
The Captain and Grasshoppa.
We were spending the night there, on the same night that the Volvo Ocean Race was in town. It was utter madness, but lots of fun. The usual shenanigans made their presence felt - group dinner, followed by a couple of pubs, lots of Guiness, lots of giggles and this time, the need for a designated wingman for a certain Grasshoppa who was wearing a hardcore pair of beer goggles!
Ricky Ponting is second from the left.
Mitchell Johnson
The Australian end of the Member's Pavillion
It was a great day, and I'm glad I can say I've been to the Ashes at Lords. Next time though, I'll try to get tickets for somewhere with a bit of atmosphere. Somewhere that I can keep hold of my flag. Somewhere that people don't wear suits to!
