RIBI Conference 2015 Belfast Day 1 - Ferry

Wednesday 8^th April. This year’s RIBI Conference was to be held in Belfast. The DG and I have never been to Belfast before, so we were looking forward to what the city, and Northern Ireland as a whole had to offer. Our plan was to attend the Conference from Thursday to Sunday, then travel up to the North Antrim coast for a few days, before travelling to the Republic of Ireland to meet up with my cousin Padraig in Sligo. During this time the DG was to celebrate a significant birthday, although chivalry prevents me from mentioning which one. We were travelling in our new car, which was an adventure in itself, as neither of us understands how to operate everything in it, and the Stop / Start technology is rather an acquired taste.

                                                       The new car

Obviously I am very aware of the turbulent recent history of the Province and was wondering how welcome an Englishman would be in this city, and a Catholic one at that. Also, I wondered whether our car, with its UK number plates, would receive unwelcome attention.  So it was with some trepidation that we left home on the Wednesday to head for Birkenhead, where we were booked on to the overnight ferry to Belfast. Although we were only going for 10 days, the car was loaded almost to the gunnels with luggage (a little space was left for shopping, as we always seem to come home with more than we start with). It is of course necessary to bring lots of clothing, because there would be formal evenings to attend, clothes to be worn during daytimes in the Conference then maybe a change of clothes in the evening. After the Conference we would be touring, and at this time of year the weather can be hot, cold, windy or wet (sometimes all in the same day) so all eventualities had to be catered for. I am, of course, referring to the DG here, as I prefer to bring just what I intend wearing regardless of the weather.

                                                               Birkenhead - Belfast ferry

We left home quite early on Wednesday morning, and stopped at a Little Chef near Oxford for an Olympic Breakfast. This is our usual routine when heading off for distant destinations in the UK. In the past, there used to be a transport café at the top of our road called Cheffreys, and we would stop there for the best ever cooked breakfast when going out for the day. Sadly, Cheffreys is long gone, and we now rely on Little Chef. Traffic was surprisingly heavy on the M40 and after our breakfast stop it got heavier. Apart from a brief respite on the M6 Toll, which is never busy, we were in traffic for most of the journey. It was probably not, therefore, a good idea for me to experiment with the Cruise Control switch in the car. Some people I know swear by it, and use it constantly, but I am more inclined to swear at it. I have never braked so heavily, and so often, as I did on that journey.

                                           M6 Toll Road

We were booked on to the overnight ferry from Birkenhead to Belfast and had booked a cabin for the  8 hour crossing, which was due to leave at 10.30 p.m.  As Birkenhead is just across the Mersey from Liverpool, we thought we would spend some time in Liverpool before embarkation.  When driving into a city that you are unfamiliar with, the Sat Nav really comes into its own, and it brought us safely to the Albert Dock area of the city in mid-afternoon. The Albert Dock is a place we last visited about 25 years ago, when we arrived by ferry from Seacombe. At that time regeneration had just begun in the Albert Dock area and I remember that the area looked pretty desolate. However the Tate Gallery had recently opened, as a symbol of good times to come.

                                    'Ferry cross the Mersey' - a little more colourful than last time I came

What a change there has been since then.  Albert Dock is a vibrant, fun place, full of Restaurants, cafes and up-market shops.  It is very smart and modern, and the juxtaposition (this one of the DG’s words, not mine) of old and new architecture is striking. If you look in one direction along the river front you can see the famous Liver Birds atop the Royal Liver Building. These birds are the symbol of Liverpool, and I couldn’t help noticing that they are well tied down with cables  to prevent the calamity of them falling off.  Looking the other way the most noticeable building is the huge Echo Arena, which is shaped like a ship. Liverpool’s Anglican Cathedral is not far away, and I’m sure the Metropolitan Cathedral is also close, although I couldn’t see it from Albert Dock.  

                                                        Royal Liver building, with Liver birds perched on top

We were walking around the dock in the sunshine of a warmer than usual day at this time of year when who should walk past us than one of the DG’s colleagues, Martin Williams and his wife Wendy. Martin is DG of a District in Kent. He and Wendy had had the same idea as us in spending the afternoon in Liverpool before boarding the ferry to Belfast. They had arrived by train, making good use of Senior Rail card discounts (we must start doing that) and left their luggage at the station. We enjoyed a coffee together at the Tate café and then went for a stroll over to the nearby shopping mall, called Liverpool 1. Presumably it is called this because of the Post Code it is situated in.  Whilst strolling through the shopping centre, we came across a good example of Scouse humour. Everton Football Club have a shop in the mall, obviously for selling their merchandise, and the shop is named Everton 2. They must take delight in their address being Everton 2 Liverpool 1.

                                                       Everton 2 Liverpool 1

We had dinner in one of Jamie Oliver’s establishments, Jamie’s Italian. It had a good lively atmosphere and the staff seemed knowledgeable. I never used to be a great fan of Jamie Oliver, as his cookery shows were full of flashy camerawork and not enough emphasis (for me) on how to cook the dish. However I really enjoyed his series on half-hour meals, because he simply stood in front of camera and showed you how to cook the food, just how I like a cookery programme to be. One thing I am less happy about, however, is his liking for dishing up food on wooden platters. Indeed, many dishes in the Restaurant were served up on wooden boards. This doesn’t strike me as being very hygienic. Surely it is much more difficult to thoroughly clean a wooden board than a plate. I am sure his Restaurants have up-to-the minute procedures to ensure that wooden platters are thoroughly sterilised before being re-used, but people watching his shows in their homes may not have the same know-how or equipment, which could result in food poisoning.

                                                       The DG, Martin, Wendy, me

Aside from the above whinge, I found the meal to be very enjoyable and reasonably-priced. I was also relieved that the soup came in a bowl. The four of us had a convivial evening before going our separate ways (the DG and I to the Car Park, Martin and Wendy to the station) to head off to the Belfast ferry. The quickest route from here was obviously through the Birkenhead tunnel under the river, and we duly put the co-ordinates into the Sat nav, which immediately recognised our destination and started to lead us there. All was going well, until I noticed that we had passed the entrance to the tunnel and were heading out of the city. I also saw that the Sat nav estimated over an hour for the journey, which was 60 miles.

                                                                 Birkenhead tunnel

Clearly our sat nav did not realise there was a tunnel,and was trying to take us overland to the Wirral so I decided to disobey Jane (the voice of our sat nav) and head back towards the tunnel. She didn’t like it, and continued to scold us, telling us to turn around until I turned her off. We were soon in the tunnel heading under the Mersey. Now, I reckon that the Mersey is about 400 yards wide at this point, maybe 600 yards. The tunnel, however seemed to go on and on. I would estimate that we travelled for a good couple of miles before emerging at the other side, then had another mile journey back to the ferry terminal. No doubt there is a good reason for this, but I couldn’t help thinking that it must have cost an enormous amount of money to build this tunnel, which was about 1.5 miles longer than it needed to be.

                                                         Retro - Ice cream vans at Albert Dock

We arrived in good time at the Port, and were one of the first vehicles to be loaded, as we needed to be parked near to the lift going up from the Car Deck. Check-in was friendly and low key. We discovered that it was as well  we arrived early, because departure time had been brought forward to 10.00 p.m. without us knowing.  Once on board, we planned on retiring to bed early making the most of having a bed for the night. The ferry only seemed about half full, and there was plenty of room in the passenger lounge where we got ourselves a drink. Martin and Wendy had tickets for the executive lounge, so they were probably drinking champagne accompanied by luxury foods in comfort, whilst we queued for a hot chocolate and an oatcake in the main lounge. I did ask Martin earlier if he could see his way to bringing some canapes out to us, but we never saw him so assumed that he must have been stopped at the door and had them confiscated.

                                                                       Albert Dock

I went up on deck to observe the ferry leaving, and it was interesting to see it reverse across the Mersey as it left its moorings. We were almost  back at Albert Dock before the ship turned and made its way down the river.  On a more worrying note, I heard a couple of car alarms sounding from the car deck, and was worried whether one of them might be mine. I wasn’t allowed down to the car deck to check, as it is out of bounds when the ferry is moving. The woman at the Customer Services desk said I should have disabled my car alarm before leaving it. That’s all very well, but nothing in the instructions said I should do that, and apart from that I didn’t have a clue how to disable the alarm. I decided that there was nothing I could do about it so tried to forget about it until the morning.

                                                      Outside the Maritime Museum

Our accessible cabin had bunk beds, which I don’t think I have slept in since I was about 16 years old. The problem for the DG was that her bunk (the bottom one, of course) had so many mobility aids in the form of handles attached to the bottom of the bed above her, that she could hardly move once she was in, and consequently she hardly slept a wink all night. I didn’t fare much better, as the ship’s engines, which appeared to be directly under our cabin seemed very noisy, and furthermore I was worried about getting up at 5.00 in the morning to get off the boat. Consequently I slept only fitfully during the night, worrying about whether my car would have a flat battery in the morning, and waking up constantly to check the time.