No Potcheen, but Pucci - a Titanic Find!

Apologies for the absence.  Life and work have been hectic in recent weeks, so I'll keep the last part of the Ireland travelogue brief in order to share more of the latter in my next post.  These photos pretty much speak for themselves, but we made sure to visit Ireland's two capital cities during our stay.

Mid week ushered in a spell of wet and windy weather; a good excuse - if one were needed - to head to Belfast and take cover beneath the crazy angled roof of the Titanic Exhibition's iconic building.

At just shy of £30.00, the entry fee isn't cheap, but what can I say?  If you find yourself in Belfast and have even a passing interest in the terrible fate of the "unsinkable" Titanic and her 1,500 passengers, then go.  It's a huge and comprehensive exhibition charting the history of the vessel and you will also get to hear the voices of the survivors which packs an emotional punch.

But first, another iconic sight in Belfast; Samson and Goliath, the twin ship building gantry cranes situated in the Harland & Wolff shipyard at Queen's Island.  Goliath was erected in 1969 by German engineering firm Krupp and stands at 96 metres tall.  Samson came along in 1974 and is taller in stature, standing at 106 metres.

Whilst we were keen to see the exhibition, we weren't in a hurry to pay through the nose for lunch in the building's cafe.  Instead, we opted for The Dock Cafe, an excellent innovation.  A selection of teas, cakes and coffee were served by the cafe's friendly staff in return for a donation of your choice, deposited in a box on the counter.  

The welcome was warm, with cosy sofas, a prayer corner and local artists' work adorning the walls.

Given that we were hoping for something more substantial, the staff explained that if we opted to grab food from any of the neighbouring local supermarkets or takeaways, we were more than welcome to eat it in the cafe.   We took them up on their offer and obviously ordered tea and cakes from The Dock Cafe for afters.  

None of us were in the mood to battle the elements and roam further than the Titanic Quarter.  Plus, time wasn't on our side.  This was the scene from inside.  The sun would make a brief appearance, but the wind was a constant and the rain horizontal when it came.  I've always wanted to nail that rainy window shot and Belfast, you gave me an interesting backdrop!

Onwards to the heart of the Titanic Quarter.  I didn't linger to take photos...although this scene from Game of Thrones, immortalised in stained glass, caught my eye.

Highlights from inside.

A lift designed to emulate the enormous rigging and a sedate theme park-style ride, designed to take passengers on a journey down through the rigging, whilst providing an overview of the various jobs undertaken during the ship's construction.  A soundtrack of workers' memories (voiced by actors) from their time on the build accompanied the trip...

...culminating in an expression of workers' desire to let loose in the pub after a hard day's work, with projected figures moving in a celebratory fashion behind the pub doors.  

The menu.  Could this have been the last meal for those poor passengers?

The launch point viewing room.

For me, the photographs and the stories behind them, were by far the most moving and evocative.  This was the last photo taken of the Titanic.

The little boy in the photograph below might seem privileged, but his story is tragic.  Robert Douglas Spedden was born into a wealthy New York family.  He was on board with his Nanny, Margaret, who he called Muddie.  Muddie woke the little boy from his sleep when the ship hit the iceberg, telling him they were going on a journey "to look at the stars."  Muddie and Robert made it onto a lifeboat and Robert slept through the night, holding his beloved teddy bear, Polar.  When he woke up, surrounded by icebergs, he said: "Oh Muddie, look at the beautiful North Pole, with no Santa Claus on it!"  They survived, but just two years later, whilst playing football, Robert was hit and killed by a car driving on the wrong side of the road close to the family's summer holiday home in Maine.  

One of only six remaining life jackets.

Just one section of the wall bearing the illuminated names of the dead.

A pocket watch retrieved at the time.

The day the wreck was discovered.

There was much more to this exhibition, utilising some very impressive technology, but no spoilers here for anyone who might wish to visit.

We headed south of the border to Dublin's fair city later in the week and headed to our old haunt Temple Bar, the city's cultural quarter on the South Bank of the River Liffey.  I didn't take my camera; only a few mobile snaps.

The gorgeous Blooms Hotel.

The Irish have a natural affinity for the underdog, but then who doesn't in this case?

An exquisite door!

Luke Kelly, founding member of The Dubliners, who have influenced many others from The Pogues to Fontaines DC.

We frequented a few pubs in Dublin on our previous visit - back in the early 2000s when we saw an incredible line up at Slane Castle:  Red Hot Chilli Peppers, Foo Fighters, PJ Harvey and Queens of the Stone Age.  However much of a tourist trap Temple Bar might be (and at almost £10.00 a pint, that much is undisputable), the atmosphere is always lively - even on a Thursday lunchtime.  With its labyrinth layout, live Irish music and decor encompassing everything from Guinness memorabilia to Irish folklore, it really is a must. 

On the last night of our trip, we holed up in Quinn's Bar in Newcastle, a characterful pub celebrating its 30th birthday.  

As with many drinking establishments in Ireland, the pub evolved from its origins as a grocer's shop.  After receiving a warm welcome on our first night, we decided to pop back for dinner to finish of our holiday.  

There was a real buzz about the place and the staff were excited that "Paddy" the boss, was in that night.  I chatted to a waitress about their forthcoming celebrations and she insisted on sending the boss over to say hello.  In the event, Paddy had just left, but instead his son was sent over.  We were treated like VIPs, given three t-shirts and a hoody proudly bearing the pub's name and told to make ourselves known if we were ever in town again.  What lovely folks!

In case you're wondering about the title of this post, we didn't sample the island notorious tipple, Potcheen (or Holy Water or Irish Moonshine), said to be the strongest drink in the world - at anywhere between 40-90% and traditionally made from whatever its maker's small, rural smallholding had to hand, from barley to crabapples.  We stuck to - you guessed it - the black stuff!

In an act of pure genius/laziness (depending on your view), I shoe-horned Potcheen into the title because it worked nicely with a certain Italian brand known for its kaleidoscopic colours and geometric patterns.  

Back at home, I set about preparing for a flurry of weddings, but still found time to pop into the local charity shop whilst out posting.  With pretty low expectations, I was riffling through the rails when I spotted a particularly vibrant print.  Within minutes the garment was mine.  The woman in the queue commented on how gorgeous the maxi dress was and the staff confirmed they had only just hung it on the rail.  There was something very familiar about the colour combination, but without my reading glasses, I was unable to identify the tiny signatures scattered here and there across the silky fabric.

When I got it home, I checked the labels.  The first was partially removed, so I could only decipher that it was Made in Italy.  So far, so promising.  Next, I examined the fabric label which confirmed that the dress was 100% silk jersey.  Grabbing my reading specs, I couldn't quite make out the signature but it looked for all the world like "Emilio."  I then used Google lens on the print and caught my breath when an identical dress was thrown up in my search, listed as Pucci, with a price tag of £358.00.  Finally, I consulted my fashion oracle - aka Vix - and she reached the same conclusion.  A piece from Pucci!  Here it is in all its glory (reverse view only :-)).  Be still my beating heart!

Obviously the weather has taken a nose dive since, but I when I can catch my breath, I'll be figuring out what works with it come rain or shine.  Judging by this week's offerings, I'll be assuming mostly rain!  Hope the sun is shining where you are!  Until next time!

Belfast, Birds, Booty Calls and Bargains

I finally got around to seeing a matinee performance of Belfast last weekend, the Kenneth Branagh directed film based on his childhood during the troubles in Northern Ireland.  

I can't include enough superlatives to describe this film.  It was, in my opinion, a perfect piece of cinema; big, brooding skies over Belfast cityscapes, stunning cinematography, great performances (notably from Ciaran Hinds and Jude Hill), innovative and impactful use of colour in a black and white film steeped in nostalgia and whilst the subject matter was rooted in a dark period in our history, it was treated sensitively and somehow remained largely uplifting.  

My only quibble would be the soundtrack, from Belfast's most famous son, Van Morrison.  Whilst I love many of the man's songs (having been introduced to him by my A Level English teacher, who drip fed me cassette tape compilations of his music), his reputation has been somewhat tarnished for me, given his stance during the pandemic and ill timed anti-restriction protest songs.  Still, you have to separate the art from the artist as they say.

Monday marked Valentine's Day.  We don't do enforced celebrations, so usually just exchange mildly abusive cards.  Plus, our Valentine's Day celebrations are forever reserved for the more momentous occasion of our son's birthday.  The timely arrival of a provisional driving licence through the post on Valentine's morning, could not have been better, especially as we had only applied for it a few days earlier.  

These little crocus bulbs were placed in their vases 10 weeks ago, where they remained, hidden in a darkened outside drawer, devoid of light and regularly topped up with water.  Late last week I brought them inside and into the light and the first blooms appeared on Valentine's Day.  Call it serendipity.  Two miracles of nature!

Outside, after yet another leaf raking session, I noticed that the woodland bulbs we planted are beginning to poke through.  Hopefully this will ensure we have some colour for a little longer.

As is to be expected for this time of year, the garden is displaying remnants of winter's assail and positive signs of new life.  

I always leave the lace cap hydrangea flowers alone as I think they are just as beautiful in their wintry paper form as they are in full bloom.  

The wood pigeons are a permanent fixture in the oak tree and...

...I heard them before I saw them; a group of long tailed tits visited in Wednesday morning's all too brief sunshine.  They are noisy, gregarious little birds.  I just managed to capture this one awaiting its turn on the fat ball.

In other news, Valentine's Day was not lost on this pair of frogs.  

The grapes are doing incredibly well for February!

Following last week's blog post, the Red House Glass Cone shared the post and left a lovely comment on my Twitter feed.  It's nice to feel appreciated, but I genuinely feel that our corner of the Midlands is somewhat under-appreciated.  Inspired by my visit and Lulu's comment, we dug out our inherited collection of Chance handkerchief vases, cleaned them up and here they are, altogether on top of the chest in the front room.

I've scattered them around now, finding complimentary settings for each, including this one, which works very well with the bookshelf Penguin Classics Sherlock Holmes series as a backdrop.

With a seemingly endless succession of storms and low pressure headlines and with work (and a stomach bug for me) taking over this week, we've not travelled far.  

I received a reminder from the producers of Grayson Perry's Art Club of the themes and deadlines for the forthcoming series, having entered last year.  Cue much head scratching and a decision to enter something for the category 'Inside My Head.'  That should scare the living daylights out of them!  Here's a sneaky peak of the work in progress.  I have an idea "inside my head" to transform it into something moving and tangible, but am currently struggling with how best to execute it.  I have a few weeks to figure it all out/completely change course.

I've also indulged in one or two shopping sessions recently and this might be a good week to share a few of my finds.

First up this Dents Baker Boy hat, which usually costs around £30.00.  I paid less than five.

This silky (Polyester) pale pink top by a brand I hadn't heard of (Danish brand Mos Mosh) caught my eye and cost me £4.50, which is a steal when you check out the prices on their website.     

Another lovely cotton top; this time from Parisienne brand Suncoo (£3.50).

A handmade Turkish mug, made in the traditional Ottoman style - £2.99.

Gareth picked up this cheerful vase from a local charity shop.  We love a splash of red and this little West German piece is just perfect atop the fireplace in "nature corner."

We have also added to our meagre vinyl collection.  I love Billie Holiday and after Lulu told me how amazing she sounds on vinyl (she's not wrong), we bagged a couple of albums, together with Led Zeppelin II and an old Stones album.

So, all second hand finds, the most thrilling kind.  

Mercifully, we appear to have dodged the worst of Storm Eunice and the sun has finally broken through, although I'm not sure she's here to stay.  How have you fared?