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Every year, some time in late May or early June, a day unfolds that captures the very essence of the transition between spring and summer. The event – while often unnoticed – is utterly unique. For instead of the seasons engaging in some bitter tussle, a resplendent tangle develops, showcasing the best, most complimentary features of each. The 9th of June 2009 was such a day.
Ah, that traditionally lofty first week in June when summer feels as if it’s finally breezed in. Everybody is outside, because everyone must take advantage – for when days here are beautiful, they’re really beautiful. Yet like the unavoidable annual commencement of Big Brother on Channel 4, a three month deluge of vexation and annoyance is always just around the corner.
There I was, on a bright Easter morning, only moments awake, when suddenly I was kidnapped, thrown into the back of a car and urged not to ask any questions until we had reached the as yet nameless destination. No, it wasn’t anything serious – my parents had just hatched a very kind yet mysterious plan to celebrate my forthcoming birthday.
Few people really ever plan to end up in the Limelight – it just kind of happens once all other suggestions have been exhausted. But it wasn’t always like that. I remember coming to this place sometimes twice or thrice a week back when I was at University. I wasn’t into the normal nightclub activities of drinking or hooking up.
With Craig’s birthday came the perfect excuse to take off into the countryside of County Down and enjoy the gloriously sunny Easter weather that had enveloped much of it. Our first port of call, the old Downpatrick railway station, was playing host to a rampant assembly of young families and elderly train enthusiasts.
