Jeremiah Watt

Really Kim, you need to get this young lad out of the house more often………..but more on that later.
Sniffle……..sniffle……..sniffle…………sniffle……enucht……..phewy……..

The day started with a morning rousing of the crew, get them showered up and ready to face the day ahead. It was a day of deadlines and time lines, as we had to get back to Belfast, on a bus, and then a cab so we could make our connections to a Stena-Line Ferry across the Irish Sea to Stranraer Scotland. So up and att’em boys and girls so we can breakfast afore noon. Now without doubt we have a serious case of genetic tracing going on within this action, because young Darren vaults out of bed. But young Pine emerges from his nights cocoon more like his Dad or Sid the sloth in the Ice-Age movies.
Sniffle………sniffle…………..snffle………….sniffle………..phew/phew/phew

Finally the crew is assembled and we can make our way to the breakfast area. We are early amongst the patrons here this day, and the cook has not arrived as of yet, but soon we are told. We make a browse around the lite food table, with the cereals and yogurts , fruits and juices. We try a few different things, with the Twix Biscuits which are some what like a large block of horse feed that you put milk or cream on???? Without much of a delay, we are told the cook has arrived and we can now place our order. None of us are hungry enough to make our way into a full Ulster Fry, but we all order a little something to tide us over till later in the day.

I decide to try the Kippers, I am not much of a fish lover and this choice causes some raised eyebrows from my wife…………….and she inturn reminds me of how hairy my legs are. With all that said, they turned out to be phenomenal folks, with a little Soda bread fried in bacon fat and two eggs runny…………it was a feast to the last bite.

Sniffle……..sniffle……….sniffle……….sniffle……………sniffle………….acht/phewy

Mucous projectiles fly thru the cockpit of our Saab highway express vehicle, seems that both Darren and Nevada have come down with something………….something that leaves them with enough danged snot to chink a log cabin, or use as a flat sealant on a Mac truck.

Its time to hit the main roads with a passion for the speed which so far has lain dormant, secreted away from the stick shift opportunities of life. I am driving a lawn-mower disguised as a car. We are boiling down the high speed lane of the M6 I think it was, headed south to Belfast. The roads are twisty without being excessively tight, the lanes wide enough to allow a little more relaxed driving stance.

Sniffle………sniffle………..sniffle………sniffle………..acht/phewy/schtoopt…… Now at this time we are out of Tissues to blow the nose with, Darren was raised to never foul his sleeves, so the poor kid is minus approx. 30 good inches of fair game place to leave the stuff deposited. Being farm raised I never leave home with out a little toilet paper rolled up in my hind pocket…………for things you can take care of with your shirt sleeve. Being a nice guy and a good host I hand over enough paper to last a farmer one good bought of diarrhea……………or enough paper for Sheryl Crow and Rosie for maybe a good year. Darren, takes the whole hank and just wads in half and takes one feeble blow and calls it done………….tossing it to the trash before I can even give my speech about the poor kids not having any, or maybe we all need to live thru the depression once again…………….but its to late he is oblivious to any form of conservation, the scholastic version of conservation only applies to whales and redwoods.

Sniffle……………sniffle……………….sniffle,Darren I told you that you should have blown that honker and got it done with…………sniffle………….thorry mith’ter Watt

During this run to Belfast, we discuss the methods of getting to the docks and aboard our Ferry. And in it all, we decide that it may be best to hail a cab right at the airport rather than take a bus to City Center and then a cab. SO without much ado, that is what we done. Funny thing how cabbies work, since this time around we are on the Protestant side of that line of demarcation across the city of Belfast which divides Orangemen from IRA.

One verbalized line was exactly the same on both sides to the word, and it went like this all you have to do is change the religion of choice………” I was born Catholic, never been inside the Church mind ya, don’t trust the Church either, but I will die a Catholic and no Protestant Bastard will tell me otherwise” While on the ride I tried to keep the conversation subject on that of Cars, mostly the Antique Mini’s, I have fell in love with these very cool little chunks of iron. They have some real souped up versions here that not only look sporty but tear up small chunks of pavement with the power they have. British mini muscle cars

Sniffle………….sniffle………….sniffle………..sniffle……………….

Then we got onto the very classy Morgan,s which I could sure find myself riding around in, stopping at Pub’s, and Castles………….my wifes blonde hair blowing in the wind as we toured. I day dreamed that every once in a while as we passed thru the Belfast streets, some cobbled and some pave d, and all lined with the two story red brick row house type structures. Huge piles of debris are scattered around as we drive, some piles as high as 20vplus feet. These says the Cabbie, will be lit and burned as huge bon-fires to celebrate the Orange Mans March coming up soon. NO matter what we talked about, the littlest hints of anger and animosity snuck into the conversation. And all of it is the exact opposite to what the Cabbie on the Roman Catholic side had to say.

Sniffle…………..sniffle………shhhhhh Darren, and you to Nevada…………plug that thing with yer fingers for a while. We are here, the shipyards are right over that way says the Cabby, and have a good trip he says as he closes the door and is off. The huge Stena Line tri hull is waiting for us to board as soon as she is cleaned and all the cars parked on her decks so we can commence. We have a bit of tie to wait, so we partake of some Earl Grey Tea, whata great brnad of Tea that is, and somehow having it amidst the drizzle and cloud of the Irish coast just makes it taste all that much better. Should I buy some tissue blurts out Darren………………..we all look in total awe at such a statement. The answer came from Mrs.Watt, that he was welcome to look at the tiny store but in all likelihood they would not have any. Why don’t you just go to the mens room and get some free toilet paper she suggested. Oh dear says Darren………..isn’t that disgusting. Well I says, that depends on what stage of “used” you get the toilet paper now doesn’t it. As long as it is still in the roll form, its like all the tissue you ever used from a nice box. We begin a gain with normal high tea chatter…………sniffle…………..sniffle………Darren, go get some toilet paper.

Darren disappears into the Mens room, and very quickly comes back out, shaking his head and confirming that indeed there was no paper left out sitting on the vanity cupboard with a sign that reads……….”Hey you, ya you, just in case you have run out of nice soft tissue, here is a soft roll of Charmin to hold you over till you can buy some tiisue”…………….well duh says Nevada. Your going to have to go into a stall and unroll some . Blank, total deer in the head lights look on the face of a very bright youth. With great amounts of encouragement we finally convince young Darren to head to the mens room once again…………and off he goes………….we amble back into relaxed high tea chatter.

The arrival of Darren punctuates our chatter, but his countenance is a somewhat perplexed and worried one…………..did you manage to get some paper Darren, I ask him. Yeth mist’ter Watt. Did you roll some and put it in your pocket asked Nevada who by the way was doing fine with the same cold but had the wisdom of wearing a lime green long sleeved tee. NO said Darren, sitting with us now rather sheepishly opening his ample back pack and revealing the contents, of which the most noticeable item inside was the largest full roll of industrial replace once a month toilet paper……………..my dear god, that thing had to be 10 inches in diameter and weigh 30 pounds. Darren says Pine, ya can’t take the whole roll what about the next poor bloke who strolls into the same stall for his “constitutional”…………whats he going to do, better yet how would you feel if it were you in the sa……………… Too late, here come’s a fellow wringing his hands vigorously with paper towel and a disgusted look on his face Boy howdy, did we ever get a laugh at Darren on that one, the day a good kid went bad and stole all the toilet paper in Belfast.

We had very few sniffles to deal with on the ride over to Stanraer Scotland, heavy leaden clouds are the order of the day, choppy dull grey seas roll up at low tide on sandy shoals that form the flattish coast of Scotland. We make our way off the Ferry and right onto the train that runs into Glasgow…………..now listen up here cause the Lords already at work and as isusual with us humans, we don’t even know it or sense it. We are oblivious to his movements. The bed pan flat of the coast of Scotland does not seem to last very long, and the train rises into some low hills, and the country seems to be a little more rugged and greener if that can be possible, maybe not, but definatly rugged.

The ride to Glasgow is a short one, maybe an hour and a half, not to eventful, talked, slept and talked some more till the train rumbled into THE Paisley district and ourstop to get a cab to the Airport and our rental car. It takes a while at the Airport, since it is very busy and the security folks as well as police are just about to commence a pretend hostage and security breach scenario.

I finally get my replacement car, since the one I had booked did not get returned and as such they switched cars on me. They upgraded me to a Saab 93 Euro Vagon, silver gray colore, with full leather interior and a Blapunkt sound system so we can bump our Techno and Bag Pipe tunes in style…………the kids have there hats on sideways and their pant ssitting low……………I got my kilt on backwards, and pulled way up………..yea, we be groovin brother.

Map in hand, kids loaded and all the suitcases loaded and we are tormenting the Scottish drivers of Glasgow. Quite a city in all, sure enough there are some areas that don’t feel to safe, and some areas that just look a little haggard, not Merle, just haggard. Its already sorta late, like 6:30 and we are just rolling up to the place at which we should find a “Hostile”, and we stop to ask the obligatory directions, only to find out that the place we are looking for has burned down. However, the fellow whom we are asking is also a Hostel owner, and can put us up in his establishment, if we care to follow him in his car. We do so and happily, as getting a room in a Hostel during the peak of the season is tough, even worse with five people in the group. Now as it all turns out, this fellow is Canadian and from Alberta, he used to be a Tri-Line truck driver……….and we ended up with a just fine room and all to our selves. We ate at the Coppers next door and headed out to drive Glasgow and walk a little to see some sights and get a little oriented at the same time.

All in all it was a great day, we all learned a little with the battle between two beliefs who defend a belief that they know nothing of at least in the spiritual sense, we learned that conservation or at least the application of it may be more important with toilet paper than spotted owls, and we learn that even before we see a storm brewing on the horizons God has put in place a plan for those that will Pray, hence we end up with a room at a Hostel after all…………….and we could have asked any one of some 500,000 people for directions, but found that just right one to ask.

I am hearing quite a few complaints about the pictures in which I am hidden………to tough is the hue and cry……….so I will do better.

Good Night and God Bless