Many meetings
We left Belfast from the wonderfully named George Best International Airport. Small airports are often the best travelling experience, and two buses got us there with a minimum of fuss — except for a fellow bus passenger, who immediately asked us for some change. The unkempt appearance should have been a giveaway. Unfortunately, his Belfast accent was so this that we needed translation help from another friendly passenger, but by that stage the guy had left the bus. Our new friend, a Scot living in Northern Ireland, looked at us straight-faced and remarked, ‘you know he was 25 years old last night?’ We’ve seen the effectis of that rapid-ageing liquid before!
We found Belfast fascinating but unsettling. It remains a divided city and a divided society, even though people seem to be able to work together. Just walking the couple of miles (yes, we are the UK) from where we were staying near Queens University into the centre (to visit the fabulous markets) took us through a series of Protestant and Catholic neighbourhoods, each perhaps five or six streets wide. Even though they were not as confronting as the areas near the Peace Wall, it was unsettling to know that the divide was still there, until you got near the university. The Peace Accord is not a settlement, and the inevitable growth of Sinn Fein in the Council elections held while we were there, and the stand-off over who would be the leader in Stormont now SF was the majority party, means that permanent solution needs to be found urgently. I think Partition was never a solution and has been a rolling disaster; but there needs to be justice on both sides. It’s beyond me, and it was good to leave this all behind us as fly south and east towards an England that, for all its challenges, had no sectarian tensions and waited for us in brilliant sunshine.
One should never forget the very real differences between Catholic and Protestant (thanks, Derry Girls).
We flew into Exeter Airport, the old RAF field from which Polish night-fighter pilots had tried to protect the City from the Baedeker Raids (of which more later). It was an easy day of travel, as the bus took us straight to Exeter Central station, so we grabbed something to eat and hopped on the train to Torquay. The Central trains go one stop and meet up with the main GWR line from London down to Plymouth and Penzance, and our trip was to be relatively short at 30 minutes, so we began a text message conversation with Simon and Jane, who we thought would be catching the same train an hour later. They kept posting pictures which looked oddly familiar, and we realised that we were in fact all on the same train!
By the time we had made it to the hotel (the local Hilton), it was all coming together (Simon and Jane took off with the luggage in a taxi, while we wandered along the promenade). By 5:30, we were all in the bar for a drink.
Paula’s meticulous planning paid off: the pub was old and traditional and had better-than-decent pub grub, including lots of seafood. It was an auspicious start for the adventure.
