A Strange Week

Strange, but quite exciting in places.

I suppose the story has to begin on Sunday morning, when I left to go ringing as usual.  I got into the van, turned the key, and ........ nothing; well, to be honest there was a quiet 'whirr', but its tone was hardly encouraging, and died away even as I listened.  Quickly, truth dawned.  I had returned quite tired from Newcastle on Friday afternoon and, not realising that the day was done, van-wise, had forgotten to turn off the radio; then for the first time this year, I decided on Saturday to use the bus rather than the van to do my shopping.  The result was that the radio had been on for 41 hours and had drained the battery.  The AA patrolman was to be praised.  Prompt and effective, he had me running within minutes, and advised a decent run to restore charge levels.  Conveniently, I had been planning to drive to Royston with some pension papers after church; sadly, this trip now had to take precedence, and I missed the service.

The working week began with the usual men's breakfast at the church; I was glad to be back with my friends there, especially having missed this last Monday.  Then I took the van in to the garage for a service, and came home to follow up the weekend's family history exercises.  Even before I had regained mobility, the office had called to say there was a job to Enniskillen - was I interested?  If it had been possible to 'bite his hand off' by telephone, he'd have been fingerless.  Was I interested?  You bet!  Since Christmas 2011, I had been waiting for such a call, and had asked that, if there was an Irish trip coming up, could I be considered because I would like to call at the record office in Belfast to research my great uncle, who had settled in Ireland after his discharge from the army in 1876.  At last such a call had come, and to the very town where great uncle George had once lived!

Stena Adventurer, with open mouth,
ready to eat next meal of vehicles

After a surprisingly smooth ferry crossing I arrived in Dublin at 6.0am as usual, but instead of heading up to Belfast as on previous such arrivals, this time I set off through the city to join the N3 to Navan, Cavan, and the north-west.  Apparently it was only the previous day that the ferry company had ceased changing currency aboard so, unarmed with euros, I had to make use of the toll booths on the motorway for change.  They willingly accept sterling, but only on a 1:1 basis.  Needing a break from the driving, I stopped briefly in Cavan to top-up at a cash machine, against the need for any further purchases during my brief passage to and fro through the Republic.

My delivery was simplicity itself, and I turned my attention to the 'real' business of the visit, beginning at the Tourist Information Centre.  The ladies there were very helpful, within the mutually understood limitations of the service that they could provide, supplied me with both a current tourist map of the city and also a photocopy of a 1925 streetmap, on which I could see where the streets of my interest had once been situated.  Amazingly, on that site today is the public library, which is where they sent me for more detailed information.



Rear of Enniskillen library, once the
site of my great-uncle's home

The game of 'pass the parcel' continued, for apart from courtesy and helpfulness, the lady in the library added nothing to my store of gathered knowledge.  Instead, on learning that my great uncle had lived in the town, and raised a family of (as I thought) nine children on or near the very spot where we were chatting, she escorted me to the front door of the library and pointed to the building across the road - the Cathedral Office.  She assured me that the secretary there was not only likely to be of assistance in my searches, but also had within her custody detailed registers of births, baptisms, marriages, and so on.

I was amazed that, not knowing me from Adam, this lady was indeed quite willing to usher me into the conference room, and within minutes furnish me with not only half a dozen bound volumes of register transcripts, but also pen and paper with which to record my findings, these latter having been ignored in my preparations for the trek around the city.  Even more amazing, if this were possible, was the discovery that my great uncle's family totalled not nine but eleven children, the two eldest having been already married before the 1901 census on which my knowledge hitherto had been founded.

A small part of Lower Lough Erne

I came away full of achievement, and turned tourist for a while, touring the city briefly with my camera at the ready, and then exploring the nearer parts of Lough Erne, which is the fourth largest lake in Ireland.


Time for patrol boat practice


The rest of the week pales into insignificance beside this excitement, from which I returned mid-morning on Wednesday, after a few essential doze-stops on the way back from Holyhead.  I did one short job that afternoon, and four on Thursday, culminating in a frustrating trip to the rural part of Surrey, arriving in the early evening thanks to the clogged M25.  The outcome of this was that, with no hint of industry in a long, twisting lane with many named houses, along with a phone number, the calling of which brought no response, I was unable to make a delivery.  Having already loaded another job for delivery this morning in Lincoln, I had no alternative but to come home, and arrange with the controller to have this box collected by another driver on the way, to make a fresh attempt to deliver it this morning.

Today's delivery in Lincoln was interesting, but not problematic, to a special needs school.  I arrived to find wheelchairs and other appliances conveying a large number of pupils to their studies, as the staff were arriving for the day.  I was re-directed to the rear of the building, where I discovered that it seems to be connected with a much larger establishment that fronts onto the main road.  Having delivered some heavy electronic equipment to the team who will be installing it, I returned home to await further developments.

They were some while coming, allowing me to have the 'me-time' that I'd missed in the last couple of nose-to-tail days.  Then about 3.0, came a call asking, gingerly, 'Do you fancy another trip to Dublin?'  Sensing there might be a catch to this, I asked when, and was told for a Monday morning delivery.  So I have now collected some advertising material for a conference at a hotel in Enniskerry, Co. Wicklow, been to the office for my ferry booking, and on Sunday evening will be making my way, for the second time in six days to Holyhead for the 2.30 am ferry.  Talk about repeating genie - this couplet comes after a gap of 21 months or thereabouts!