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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.
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.
Ian was back in town for the week, so Lucinda and I decided to join him for a spot of spontaneous Mini Golf. I’m not one to boast, but man, was I awesome? I know it’s the taking part that counts, but I won by over 20 strokes! Later on we headed into the city to our old catching up haunt of Clements on Botanic Avenue.
Spending long enough in one city you’ll begin to notice the delicate changes to slowly grace it. Belfast pushed ahead with regeneration long before the recent Economic Downturn. Their aim was to create a regional cultural and business hub – of sorts. The proof can still be seen at street level and across the skyline.
Ah, Dublin! Rarely more than a hundred miles from my doorstep, yet neglected and bypassed for so much of my life unless deemed useful as a means of transit to somewhere more exotic. No longer! After a typically lazy New Years Day, I was off in the direction of the whole other country we “nordies” call ‘down south‘ (original, eh?).
