1981 UK, Ireland and Scotland Treks

On Dun Laogahaire ferry, Irishmen sang raucously in a bar...

At Waterford, we toured the glassworks...

On Blarney Castle battlements, while an underrod-ogling guide held our legs, stopping us falling, we lay on our backs and kissed the Blarney Stone...

We trekked Dingle Peninsular, and drove northwards past derelict stone-houses with roofs caved in - relics of the potato famine and starved peasantry. Hillsides were covered in yellow gorse. Besides green roadsides, we saw iron water-pumps, with long side-handles. Irishmen rolled their heads in greeting when I drove past.

At Galway Bay, storm-clouds blew in from the north Atlantic. White-washed cottages glistened rain, dribbling down yellow thatch. I thought of The Playboy of the Western World...

Beyond, we stopped at Yeat's grave...

Peat-cutters shovelled peat in bogs. At B-and-Bs, we warmed ourselves by peat fires...

At Giants Causeway, sunset reflected off red-haired Irish girls...

We avoided Belfast and Londonderry, as Bobby Sands was hunger -striking in H-Block prison for political prisoner status. Driving through Armargh, we were unaware of combatants lurking. Scowling Royal Ulster Constabulary road-blocked us, examining my licence. Machine guns bristled at corners...

With Freedom of Scotland tickets, bought at Victoria Station, we trained to Fort William near Ben Nevis...

From Mallaig we ferried to Skye, bussed across southern Skye, and caught another ferry back to the mainland at Kyle of Lochalsh...

We looked for red deer in the Highlands but saw none...

From Scrabster, we ferried to Orkney isles, the Old Man of Hoy greeting us en route...

At Stromness, we hired a car and explored. We'd heard there were Orkney Esslemonts, some of whom had emigrated to Canada, but we met none. Shetland ponies ate apples from our palms on a high hill, overlooking Scapa Flow, where scuppered German warships spoilt our view...

At Aberdeen we visited "Esslemont and Mackintosh" shop, as the name matched our surnames...

We ignored Esslemont Castle ruin near Ellon...

At Edinburgh, we visited Leah's cousin Lillian, married to Michael, a Bank of Scotland manager. Lillian hailed from Golspie. Michael was born in dirty Edinburgh. We enjoyed Edinburgh Castle and Michael's embarrassment when he slipped in dog shit, and dragged his foot down Royal Mile. Leah liked Greyfriars Bobby, and shopping in Princes Street. We drank whiskey in pubs, and eyed kilted Scots wearing sporrans and skean dhus...

On our coach-trek south, soccer supporters trailed scarves from coach windows. At dirty Birmingham, we visited dad's sister, aunty Jean, retired kindergarten principal. She flatted near Spark Hill, and we arranged to leave our extra luggage with her when we Eurailed Europe. At the coach-station near the Bull Ring, a Pom glared at me, while stealing a newspaper from a store-counter. Brum didn't impress, as it was overcast, and dirty. I sympathized with dad's emigration from Cadburys to Calcutta. Fifty years later, Brum was Indianized.