The WhyNotSmile Guide To The Upcoming Elections

Now, we have elections coming up here in Belfast on 22nd May, and a number of people* have asked for guidance on how the process works, who to vote for, and so on. So it is as a Public Service that I hereby present The WhyNotSmile Guide To The Upcoming Elections.

* 1 person, plus my husband, who didn't actually ask but got told anyway

How The Process Works
Now, there are various types of election, and they require voting in different ways. This can be confusing for the amateur voter, but is easily resolved by reading the instructions at the top of the voting form, or by asking the person who hands you the form to start with. There are generally 2 methods:

1. The one where you put an X beside one person's name
This is quite simple, so long as you're careful not to accidentally write your name or draw a smiley face or something in any of the other boxes or on the rest of the page. 30 seconds of self-control and you're grand.

2. The one where you put all the people in order of how much you like them
This is Voting For The More Advanced Citizen. You put a 1 beside the person you like the most. Then you put a 2 beside the person you like the next most, and so on, until you get to all the people you don't like at all, at which point you stop. It's a bit like in school when you got to be team captain and choose who you wanted in order of how much you wanted them, except that this time you can stop when you get down to the riff-raff, and not be stuck with the likes of me on your team, all over-enthusiasm and skill-less-ness. It also means I get to sit on the sidelines and read my book, rather than accidentally ending up elected to something, so everyone's happy.

What You're Voting For
The next question must be: what are we voting for? What are these people going to do? There are essentially 5 possibilities here:

1. Local Councils
These are the people who collect the bins and get rid of dog poo. For this you want your basic Responsible Type, who can sit through a meeting without stabbing annoying people in the face, and who understands how dumps work and that sort of thing. These are Details People. If they call at your door looking for votes, you should quiz them on things like what can go in the recycling bins, and where to catch the bus into town on a Saturday.

2. The Northern Ireland Assembly
This is Where It All Happens, or so the occupants like to think. This lot decide how we spend all the money that we get from England, and whether The Gays can get married or not, so it's Quite The Place. Mostly, of course, the DUP and Sinn Fein spend the time shouting at each other, so for this you want someone who's not too easily wound up by twits. It's probably going to be a choice between a series of people who think they're quite important, and then one or two who might actually Make Stuff Happen; contrary to historical practice, it might be worth trying to identify one of the latter, and giving them a shot at it.

3. Westminster
This is the person who gets to fly to London and claim duck houses from the taxpayers. Now, generally this will end up being the same person who's been doing it for the last 50 years (or, if they have recently retired, their son), but I urge you all to follow the example of East Belfast from last time around and vote for someone who'll actually Do Stuff, and not just fanny about naming leisure centres after themselves. But, of course, it's up to you.

4. Europe
Every now and then we get to send people to Europe. I'm not entirely sure what they do; I think it's mostly about organising fishing. Anyway, for this one we want to send someone nice, rather than someone who's going to make us look like we couldn't organise a piss-up in a brewery without first separating the brewery into 'themuns' and 'usuns', drawing flags all over the place and then parading past each other singing about how we beat you 3000 years ago so NAH! Seriously, nobody in Europe cares. Let's try and not look like idiots in front of Angela Merkel.

5. Some sort of referendum
From time to time you'll get an election paper where the options are just 'yes' and 'no' instead of being people's names. This is a referendum, and you just have to say what you think is the right answer to the question. It's sort of like a survey, but there's no prize draw for completing it.

So we see that it is important to establish what the election is all about and what sort of person we require before we move on to the next step.

Who To Vote For
Now we come to the more important question: who to vote for. There are a series of steps involved in this decision.

1. If you have the option of voting for Naomi Long, always vote for Naomi Long.
She has personally promised Mr Smile that she will reduce tax on crisps when she becomes Prime Minister. And also, she's not a twit, which is Quite New for Northern Irish politics. She organises debates in parliament and has not yet named anything in the constituency after herself. I'm thinking of getting her to cut the ribbon on my new living room once the decorating is done.

2. If you do not have the option of voting for Naomi Long, try moving house, preferably to East Belfast.
I appreciate that this is not an option for everyone: some of you, for instance, will have to stay in the likes of Fermanagh to milk the cows and so on. But it's worth a shot if you're able to try it.

3. If you have moved to East Belfast and still do not have the option of voting for Naomi Long, it may be that it's Not That Type Of Election.
You should probably have had the foresight to look into this before you went to all the effort of moving house, but East Belfast is nice and we're glad you're here anyway. Please familiarise yourself with the recycling regulations.

If you do end up unable to vote for Naomi Long, then you may have to decide for yourself. At this point, it is useful to know a bit about the various parties.

The Unionists
These will generally have a name containing the letter 'U', and a logo with a British flag on it. The exceptions to this are the New Kid on the Block, NI21, because they're trying to be all cool and stuff, and UKIP, who have a 'U', but not in the Northern Irish sense (and are only Unionist in the technical sense, not in true Northern Irish fashion). We can summarise the Unionists as follows:

Ulster Unionists
Bonkers level: moderate
Key facts: led by Mike who used to read the news, the UUP is the party of choice for those who want to keep Sinn Fein out, but think the DUP are a bit mental. All in favour of the traditional bastions of life, such as parades and flags, but think it's a bit undignified to come out on the streets about it.

Democratic Unionists
Bonkers level: high
Key facts: the DUP have many years of experience of getting very odd people into highly unsuitable jobs. Like the health minister who thinks The Gays are all contaminated and won't let them give blood in case they spread Gay to the rest of us. Or the one who kicked up a big fuss because he wanted creationist displays alongside the Finn McCool displays at the Giant's Causeway. They're all terribly, terribly earnest, of course, but if you met any of them in the back of a pub (which you wouldn't), you'd feel inclined to back away slowly and in as heterosexual a way as you could manage.

Traditional Unionist Voice
Bonkers level: off the scale
Key facts: formed by people who left the DUP because it was too wishy-washy, these guys mean business. They rarely achieve it, due to all being completely mental.

NI21
Bonkers level: unclear, but initially not, apparently, too bad
Key facts: formed not that long ago, they haven't really got themselves together yet. You probably still have time to sign up as their Euro candidate. Policies appear to depend on what will get them lots of votes, and I don't think even they have high expectations of winning much. Still, they all seem quite nice.

PUP
Bit scary.

Sort-of Unionists

UKIP
Bonkers level: they're either very very bonkers or extremely cunning. Quite possibly both
Key facts: you can cost them money by sending stuff to their Freepost address, but only up to Large Letter size. You can also not vote for them, and you can improve things further by voting for someone else instead.

NI Conservatives
Bonkers level: no idea
Key facts: no idea. They all look very earnest on their posters though, and are clearly wearing their best suits.

The Nationalists
Generally these have logos featuring lots of green (although so do the Greens and Conservatives). There are two kinds:

Sinn Fein
Bonkers level: more scary than bonkers
Key facts: they are very keen to stress that violence is not the way forward. Any more.

SDLP
Bonkers level: not at all bonkers in any way. Also not very interesting.
Key facts: they still exist.

The Others
There are a few parties out there who are not really all that fussed about The Border, and prefer to concentrate on things like the economy and making it easier to cycle. They are:

Alliance
Bonkers level: not generally bonkers at all, though I'd say David Ford could liven up a party if you filled him with whiskey
Key facts: people argue that they can't vote Alliance because they sit on the fence too much, without recognising that the fence is fine; it can give you a commanding view of the surrounding area, and you can maybe sort out the economy and healthcare and stuff while you're up there, instead of arsing about on the ground yapping about parades. Also, flegs.

The Greens
Bonkers level: highly variable
Key facts: the sort of people you meet in the pub, with fabulous big ideas that are completely implausible but also brilliant. If they actually got put in charge, the place would be in pieces by lunchtime, but you definitely want a few of them about to keep everything grounded.

Independents
Bonkers level: suspect
Key facts: I'm always suspicious of people who don't belong to a party but stand for election. It's like people who are self-employed; you sort of assume they're lazy and don't like being told what to do.

So those are your options, and it is important to choose wisely. I trust this helps.

The Sam Thompson Bridge: WhyNotSmile Investigates

So they opened a whole new bridge in Belfast, and, since I would basically go to the opening of an envelope, you can imagine my excitement. Even better, this bridge is part of a scheme to connect my house to The Dock Café*, thus joining up my two favourite places and enabling me to cycle between them with ease.

* This may not be the actual aim of the scheme

So naturally, I had to be there. I got off to a shaky start when crossing the road over to the bridge, as I was joined on the crossing by a lady with a microphone headset thing, and a lady wearing the sort of coat you wear if you're about to open a bridge, and I figured they were probably Something To Do With It, until the lady in the coat said "Is this the bridge?", and then I thought maybe this was just the sort of event you're supposed to wear a posh coat to. Particularly as this was roughly the view we had at this point:

Yes, love, this is the bridge.

Anyway, I got to the start of the bridge and was generally in the way, because I had my bike and it was quite a tight squeeze, but on the other hand I didn't want to chain it up because then I might Miss All The Fun. Some local dignitaries arrived, plus the First Minister and Minister for Local Development (I think that's what he is; anyway, I later heard him say nasty things about the Lord Mayor, so I don't like him, because that's just not a Nice Thing To Do). So they all got sent onto the bridge, and then the rest of us were ushered forwards. All the other cyclists pushed their bikes, but I cycled because then I got to be the first person to cycle across it, and it's not like there's much else in my life I can boast about.

We stopped in the middle for Speeches And A Poem, and then they declared the bridge open, and the fire brigade from the airport squirted a big jet of water across the river, which was exciting but also a bit "Ha ha we can make a bridge too".

Then we got given wristbands, so they could keep count, and I asked for an extra one for my unborn child* and got one, and then my wristband had a red spot which meant I had won a prize, so I got quite excited. At some point I also got given some keyrings. So we carried on to the far side of the bridge, where lots of people had gathered to come across from the other direction, and I annoyed quite a few of them by ramming them with my bike. Anyway, the atmosphere was very jolly, so I just kept smiling and walking.

(* Yes. For those of you who haven't heard, Baby Smile is due to make an appearance in September. I would post a scan photo, but, while my child is undoubtedly exceptionally talented in many ways, those ways do not include "Looking any different from any other baby in an ultrasound scan". Feel free to imagine any baby scan photo you've ever had to fake-smile at, and that's basically close enough.)

Next step was to track down The Former Housemate Formerly Known As Dozavtra, which I did by standing completely still until she phoned me to see where I was, and then came to find me. So we crossed back over the bridge because she hadn't crossed it yet, and then back over to get back to her starting point, and then we claimed my prize, which was tickets to a play. I was one wristband away from winning an iPod Shuffle, but still.

Then Former Housemate Formerly etc went off to go back to her car, and I cycled back across the bridge, panicking slightly because they were closing it off to let a fun run through, and much as the park that the bridge goes to is very nice, I didn't really want to be trapped in it forever, or even for as long as the fun run was going to take.

So all in all, it was very pleasant and we had a nice time, and I recommend going to see the bridge if you're in the area.

In Which We See That I Never Learn

Remember this from a few years ago? Well, turns out I've signed up again, only this time it's at the Titanic slipway, which we can only hope is warmer than it sounds. Anyway, in glad I made the list, because Saturday's forecast is for a monsoon, basically. So a list will help.

A Thing About The Flegs

So there's a thing that's been bothering me in all this talk about The Fleg Protests, and it is this: I keep hearing the protesters referred to as 'scumbags', 'lowlifes', 'hoods', 'morons' etc.  Of course, this is simply classic Northern Irish tribalism, but with the boundaries rotated.  Nowadays, instead of splitting into 'Nationalist' and 'Unionist', we're splitting into 'the ones with sense' and 'the eejits'.  But This Simply Will Not Do, because Tribalism has never served us well, and in order to move forward, we need to move together.

It's rather depressing to see politicians trot out the same old lines night after night: "They started it", "They attacked us first", "Our rights are being stripped away", "They get handed everything and it's being taken from us". In the midst of this, I've been impressed by the likes of Naomi Long, who said, after receiving a death threat, that she wants to build a shared future which includes everyone, and specifically, which also includes those who issued a death threat against her.  Naomi is one of those incredibly impressive people who can, under pressure, take a loaded question and instead of giving the same old answer, can inject her response with grace, sense and vision.  Kind of a bit like Jesus.  She's also funny on Facebook.  Also like Jesus, maybe.

Anyway, I think this is the right way to do things.  We need to build a future which includes everyone.  And we can't do that if we write people off because they're a bit undesirable, what with their hoodies and their bricks and their funny little accents (Although there's a fabulous irony in one area of Belfast mocking another area for their accent.  A bit like the pot calling the other pot a pot.).

* WARNING: sudden swing into Religious Talk coming up about now *

Now, part of this of course comes down to churches, and this brings up another point. Since announcing my Intention To Become Mrs Smile, several people in church (and outside it) have asked whether I'll be moving house.  The underlying question often includes the nuance 'to somewhere a bit nicer'.  I can't blame them, since this is what has happened to pretty much every couple who have got engaged/married in our church in the past number of years, and in churches in the area.  It's not as if it's a bad area, it's just not necessarily the most desirable, so people assume you'll want to get out of it when you have the option, to have more bedrooms and a bigger garden, and a place to park the car.  But I have no intention of going anywhere, mainly because my stress levels would go through the ceiling if I had to move house, but also because I believe that the local church is the hope of the world, and the hope of the local area as well.  We can't make a difference in an area unless we live in the area, worship in the area, serve the area, and know people in the area.  Too many people of my generation are off to the 'big name' churches, which are often in the nice middle-class areas, serving the nice middle-class areas, attracting the nice middle-classes.  Too few hang around in the places that are struggling because their members are elderly (and therefore often having wisdom and experience, but not necessarily fond of drums), or unchurched (and therefore with fresh vision, but also crazy ideas during Bible studies), or too stretched in their resources (and therefore having to rely on God, but not really knowing that the work they do can be paid after the end of the month, even though it's already on a budget of about £3 per week).

Now, my church isn't quite in that situation (although too stretched in the resources department is true, so feel free to send us money (no, seriously)), but we want to serve the community we're in, and by and large we do that best when we actually live there and know the area and know the people.  We'll never do it if we start labelling people, whether as scroungers, skivers, shirkers, lowlifes, scumbags and chavs, posh, holy, mature, needy, useful or anything else.  We'll do it if we get to know people as people, and we see their good, bad and annoying only after seeing our own good, bad and annoying, and only after realising that the reason we can live with the bad is that we've been redeemed by a gracious God who sees everyone else as being precisely as good/bad/annoying as he sees us.

Of course, then they might join our church and do weird things like go all fundamentalist or not understand the doctrine of prevenient grace or not like our cool new worship singing (it is interesting to note that people who are not in the habit of going to church very often quite like the Old Ways Of Doing Things, Thankyouverymuch, although we like to think that they'll be all cool like us (not like me, I'm not cool at all.  But like the cool people)).  And they may have to miss the Bible Study to go and stand at the protests, if those happen to clash, but that doesn't mean that they have nothing to input to the study, it just means that maybe we'll have to learn from them over a cup of tea at a more convenient time.

But I digress. I'm just saying that if we've deserted a particular area because it wasn't 'nice enough' for us, then we can't really stand and wring our hands and look down on the people who live there as if they are in some way inferior.  I'm saying that maybe we need to stop thinking we can have All The Nice We Want and if other people get left behind, tough.  Because we have to Share The Nice, people.

At some point I may give you my rants on The Middle Classes, Spiritual Journeys, and General Christian Bollocks, but I have been specifically asked to share my rant on Youth Work, and that may be next.

It is also entirely possible that I am completely wrong about all of this, and that I will change my opinion tomorrow.  So don't get too worked up, like.

On What We Should All Do This Evening

So you'll have heard by now of the Flag Protests which are sweeping Belfast, and making us Look Bad On International News.  Now, the truth, of course, is that the majority of us are going about our daily business without much difficulty, and that the riots have been on about 3 roads; but none of this looks terribly exciting on the telly, so they have to make it look like we're all out there throwing bricks at whatever gets in our way, and generally setting fire to things and yelling a lot.

Still, every now and then they(*)'re having a Big Protest, in which they aim to bring Belfast to a standstill.  In fairness, this is not difficult: as we've seen in the past when a lorry parked itself in a bus lane, or a set of traffic  lights went out, or someone fell off a bike at a particular junction, Belfast's road network is built on the principle that "Every action has an equal and entirely complementary reaction, which will only ever compound the original problem until the whole thing stops moving altogether".  I could probably bring Belfast to a standstill myself, simply by placing a cardboard box in the middle of a carefully-chosen road junction (**).

But tonight is one such Big Protest, with people coming out in droves in the likes of Greyabbey to register their disgust at the flag not flying twenty times as often here as it does in the rest of the UK.  It is possible that this could have a negative effect on local businesses, most of whom have no influence over the Thing About The Flag and are only trying to Get By In Times Of Recession, so a Counter-Thing has been suggested, which involves us all going to local cafes, pubs and restaurants this evening to have a Nice Time.

Now this is precisely The Sort Of Thing I Like, as I would much rather live in a city which has pubs and cafes and restaurants, and has plenty of them for me to choose from, even though I don't really eat out, than live in a city which doesn't give me the option of eating out but which has a flag flying above a building I can't even see.  So I suggest that we all take this on board and eat out tonight, or, as in my case, have a cup of tea out.  And maybe if we see protesters who we know we should offer to take them for a cup of tea also, and they might see that it's Quite Nice to go for a cup of tea and it's also warmer than being at a protest, and then maybe they will calm down about the flag thing and we can all just Be Friends And Have A Nice Time Drinking Tea, which is, in any case, much more British than complaining(***).


(*) 'they' being a group of people who spell things badly on Facebook
(**) I don't plan to.  I'm just saying I probably could, because that's how Belfast's road network is constructed
(***) I mean, seriously, did you see the portrait that Kate Middleton has pretended to like?  Seriously people: follow the lead of your Monarchy - no matter what happens, smile and nod, and drink tea.

How To See Me On TV (Maybe)

Remember this?  When I met Nick off The Apprentice because he was opening a farm and Mama Smile and I went?  Well, IT'S ON TV TONIGHT!

BBC One, at approximately 10.35pm, I believe.  Or have an early night and watch it on iPlayer.  Whichever.

I'm not sure whether the farm we went to is being shown tonight only, including the Opening Event, or whether it is spread out over the entire series, in which case we would expect the Opening Event to be in Week Final.  Best to watch just to be sure.

Actual, Proper Excitement

Now, Mama Smile and I are generally calm, quiet, almost shy people.  Until, apparently, we get a whiff of celeb, at which point we abandon all shame.  So you can imagine our excitement when we heard that Nick Off The Apprentice was opening a garden centre/restaurant place near Mama Smile's house.  For several weeks we did nothing but charge camera batteries (well, I paused from time to time to Tweet Nick with how excited I was.  He did not reply).

So today was the day, and, needless to say, we arose bright and early and with great anticipation.  And then we had to sit there for a while, because the place is only about a 5-minute drive away, and we didn't want to turn up 3 hours early and look like idiots.  Still, it was a useful time to practice behaving like normal people.

So we get there, and there's no sign of Nick, so we wander around looking at plants and the bouncy castle and stuff.  And then we spot Nick talking to local politician-and-pointy-man Jim Shannon:

 Then we spend Quite Some Time wandering about trying not to get caught on tv looking gormless (because they're filming this and it's going to be on tv sometime - I will, of course, let you know when I find out when).  We managed to sneak into the speeches, and then everyone trooped outside for the grand opening:

Getting ready for the ribbon-cutting

Nick Off The Apprentice doing his pre-ribbon-cutting speech

 So then I'm all like, I want a photo with Nick, and Mama Smile is all like, let's go, and suddenly we get all nervous because we realise we can't trust ourselves to not gibber like idiots in the presence of actual People We've Seen On Tv.  But some other girl wanted a photo as well, so we followed her (if Nick wasn't doing photos, we figured he could say no to her and then we'd just skulk off and be all like "yeah, commoners trying to get photos with celebs, how naff").  But Nick was quite happy to do photos and was very charming and lovely, and even offered to relocate to somewhere with a better background, and he set up a little photo-shoot place with a blue plastic cow (whose face you can see in the photo above).  So Girl got her photo taken, and then some boys wanted autographs, and they're all like "Oh, we love The Apprentice, we can't wait for it to start again", and I'm thinking "Right, don't say idiot things like that", and suddenly Mama Smile has accosted Nick and is telling him that I'm The Apprentice Number 1 Fan In The Country, and then I'm all like "Oh, and I love Countdown too", but Nick was very nice and charming even in the face of such blatant idiocy, and allowed Mama Smile to take 2 photos:

Me with Nick; going well, not gibbering

Getting a little over-excited, and earning a disapproving grimace... TOTAL WIN!!!

Nick was wearing a green suit with a bright green tie and bright green socks, which I rather liked.

After all that excitement, we went off to buy petunias and bean salad, all of which was very nice.  We did not go to the restaurant, because the entire Ards Penninsula were in there and we're not Big Ones For Crowds, but we agreed that we will go back over Easter when it's quieter, and we're looking forward to it because this is the view:

If you would also like to go, you can get directions and see how nice it is here, but don't go on the day that Mama Smile and I go because we're not Big Ones For Crowds.  Also, I don't think the horse is always there, so don't go just for that.

PS Also, I ought to point out here and now that The Apprentice is back this Wednesday, and there seem to be idiots aplenty - find out more here. WhyNotSmile is, once again, hoping to provide weekly coverage, so I must take myself off and start swotting up on the candidates...  See you all on Wednesday!

Belfast City Hall Reopens: WhyNotSmile Investigates

It might have been thought that the colder weather would keep Mama Smile and I at home a little more, but this is not the case, and we continue to investigate everything that's open to us, and some that isn't ('keep smiling, keep walking' as my dad would say).

This weekend saw the re-opening of Belfast City Hall, which has been closed for refurbishment for some time now, so of course we had to go along, as a journalistic endeavour. Not that we had the faintest idea what was on or whether we'd be allowed in or anything, but there had been rumours that something was going on (Alex had told me something about caterpillars, which I didn't really hear because the signal was weak where one of us was, and Mama Smile had heard a thing on the radio about 'people going up as caterpillars and coming down as butterflies', all of which sounded promising enough to warrant checking it out, especially as I needed to go to the bank anyway, and Mama Smile had to return something to WH Smith).

I tried doing some research online, but the website was geared up for the sort of people who are discerning about what they go to - events organised into 'Workshops', 'Music', 'Exhibitions' and so on - rather than for the likes of Mama Smile and I, who will go to anything as long as it's free. I had been hoping for a list of 'things happening on Saturday', but this eluded me, so the suspense continued.

Anyway, we went into town, went to the bank, and decided we'd have a look at the City Hall, find out what was happening, and Take It From There. So we ambled through the grounds, which seemed to be teeming with inflatable spiky things, and went up the steps, where a very lovely member of the entertainment staff told us that we couldn't come in. Apparently all the workshops and films were booked out, and we could only get in if we had tickets. This was not a terrible disappointment, since we had not, up to that point, realised there even were workshops and films (I think this may be the secret to our success and happiness: whatever you say about Mama Smile and I, we aim low, and always get better than we hoped for).

Anyway, she said we could go to the Coffee Shop (The Bobbin), so we did, and found an exhibition on Belfast, and people from Belfast, and things people from Belfast had invented, so we looked at that, and Mama Smile reminisced about the bakery (that there was a photo of) that used to be near the Holywood Arches and made Custard Creams, because my granda's shop was near there and when she was working in the shop she could smell the Custard Creams, and they always remind her of that. I should also mention that in the foyer there was a bloke in a vest and tie teaching a group of children to sing something about bugs, while being filmed by a TV camera, so if you see that on TV, keep an eye out for Mama Smile and I sneaking past looking anxious.

Then we formed an orderly queue for food, and were quite impressed by the menu; not that it is extensive (largely a paninis and soup, or tray bakes sort of place), but that it wasn't extortionately expensive, as that is the sort of thing we like. It's also nice and airy, with stools at the windows for loners, bigger tables for those eating paninis and soup, and small coffee table type things for... presumably... coffee. Having selected my piece of shortbread, I was dispatched to find a table, but this did not go well, as I came upon Alan in Belfast, Cheryl Wonders, and Littl'un (whom I had never met, but who was wearing spotty tights), and by the time I had finished talking to them, there were no free tables.

So we wandered around looking lost, until a table of 3 older ladies with 2 spare seats hailed us to join them, which we did. Two of them were sisters, and the other had joined them because she also could not find a table, so we all chatted at length about how nice that was and how nice the City Hall is, and had we been in it before, and isn't it terrible how much vandalism there is these days? Mama Smile suspected that one of them had been a teacher of hers at one point, but didn't like to ask. Anyway, the verdict was that The Bobbin is a very nice place to eat, and we'll go back another day when we can get a tour of the City Hall (Mondays-Fridays only), and perhaps visit the Ulster Museum while we're at it.

The ladies at our table had evidently done their research, and were able to tell us that there was a parade happening in the afternoon, at about 2.30 or thereabouts, so we had some time to kill and did so by going to WH Smith (where Mama Smile caused some sort of chaos whose exact details remain obscure to me, hiding as I was in the card-making section), having a look in Next (note to clothes makers: I am currently in the market for a v-neck tank top, in a range of colours which would match a sort of dark purple. Thanks.) and then Dunnes and Currys, pondering the new sculpture thing near Victoria Square and deciding we had never seen anything much wrong with the bandstand.

This was all much as any normal Saturday in Belfast might be, until we came out of TK Maxx, turned left and saw a giant caterpillar across the road. Further investigation proved that we had, with our usual habit of falling accidentally headlong into good fortune, found the start of the parade just as it was about to begin, and were in an excellent spot to see it all. Hence, I have plenty of photos.

This is the caterpillar:


There were lots of people dressed as butterfly-related things such as these:



There were also drummers:


people who looked... familiar:


and many other things, all very colourful. So we followed the parade to the City Hall, where there were now people dressed as butterflies perched on the roof:

In our bid to see the butterflies, we inadvertantly wheedled our way to another perfect viewing spot, from which we could see both the butterflies and the arrival of the parade.

Now, I have mentioned already about the theme being caterpillars and butterflies, and this is all to symbolise the regeneration of Belfast and the new lease of life of the City Hall and so on and so forth. This was then made more apparent, when some caterpillars started climbing up the walls of City Hall:


and then turned into butterflies half way up:


Then they turned into acrobats (I do not think this happens in nature, I think it was an example of artistic licence), and this happened:



which we liked.

Then we tried to go home, which proved difficult as all the buses were stuck behind the caterpillars and so on, but eventually several arrived and it was all fine.

So all in all we had a nice day out, and are looking forward to returning for a tour of the City Hall, and a visit to the Ulster Museum, which is re-opening this week some time.

The WhyNotSmile Tall Ships Belfast 2009 Photo Souvenir Special

Without further ado:

The Bounty docked opposite The Odyssey (Wednesday afternoon).

The Bounty is a replica boat built for the film Mutiny on The Bounty in 1960, and has been in other films since then, including Pirates of the Caribbean.







The Europa (Netherlands) arriving in Belfast on Wednesday afternoon.

If you look closely, you can see someone standing near the top of the middle mast (about an inch below the European flag) (an inch on the photo, not in reality).







The Tecla (from the Netherlands) arriving in Belfast on Wednesday afternoon.

You can't see this in the photo, but the crew were dancing and singing 'La Bamba', which was nice.









The Europa docked next to The Odyssey, with lots of people (Thursday morning).


















Capitan Miranda (Uruguay) and Cisne Branco (Brazil) in front of the fairground.












The prow of The Atlantis (Netherlands) looking over Belfast Lough with the Harland and Wolff cranes in the background.











Me on board The Sagres (Portugal).













The Bounty docked opposite The Odyssey.













The Bounty leaving Belfast on Sunday.













The Jolie Brise (UK) (I think) leaving Belfast on Sunday.












The Europa leaving Belfast on Sunday.













Tenacious (UK) leaving Belfast on Sunday.















There are lots more photos here.

Fame And Fortune

The WhyNotSmile Tall Ships Souvenir Photo Guide (or whatever we're calling it) is not yet ready, but in the meantime you can have a sneak preview by going here (yes, the BBC Website) and looking at the 5th photo.

If you print it off and bring it round, I'll sign it for you.

The Dangers of Self-Selecting Samples

Now first up, you will have noticed a new addition to the blogroll on the left, with the addition of the excellent JustLife, "a space dedicated to exploring the connections between faith, money, justice and lifestyle". So if you would like to explore the connections between faith, money, justice and lifestyle, then do follow the link and discover.

Secondly, you may have been following, with interest or otherwise, the tales of St Patrick's Day riots in the Holylands area of Belfast. Now, there have been a number of calls for the university to suspend students who were involved, but frankly I wonder why this should be necessary. All I know is that, when I was a student, if I had been seen on national television, being drunk in the street and throwing things at people, my parents would have been hot-footing it up to Belfast and there wouldn't have been enough pieces of me left for the university to bother suspending me. In any case I would probably not have been seen doing any of those things at all, for I would have been in the library gaining both an Education and Curvature of the Spine.

But to get to today's point, which is the latest in our series on Dodgy Mathematics. Our topic today is 'The danger of the self-selecting sample', and I think we shall use our second point from above as an illustration, although it was not, in fact, the inspiration behind the post.

You will be aware that if you wish to find out something about people (let us say, their behaviour when drunk), it is not normally practical to survey everyone; instead one selects a sample of people (let us say 400 persons), and aims to ensure that one's sample is representative (so one selects 200 men and 200 women, all of a range of ages and so on, covering all pertinent factors). One carries out an experiment (plying the people with alcohol) on the sample of people, and then we use a process called extrapolation, which essentially says that if half the people in our sample get drunk and see pink rabbits, then half of all people everywhere will get drunk and see pink rabbits.

However. This is well and good in a laboratory, but it is a little too scientific for the modern media, who are less concerned with truth and more with selling papers, and who therefore do not take time to select a careful sample, but just listen to whoever shouts loudest. Hence we see that all students shown on the news last night were rioting, and we are led to conclude that 'Students Riot'; this ignores the students like WhyNotSmile who are not drunk in the street because they are in the library reading books and not being drunk at all.

I mention this because I came across someone today who had been given new medication and was concerned for the side-effects. She promptly did what one should never do with any sort of medical condition, and Googled it. Now we all know that if you type any random selection of symptoms into Google, and click for long enough, you will sooner or later be told you are going to die, which is not entirely helpful and may not even be true; likewise, if you type in a drug name followed by "side effects", it is unlikely that you will be taken to a message board which consists of messages saying "I took this drug and it was fine", because, frankly, if you take a drug and nothing much goes wrong, you are not terribly likely to tell the internet (unless it asks); if, on the other hand, it turns you into a wibbly mess then you are highly likely to decide that the world needs to know.

So, to summarise, typing drug name + "side effects" into Google is not likely to be comforting, but fortunately is also unlikely to be representative, and is therefore A Bad Idea. Like rioting.

Garden Gourmet: WhyNotSmile Investigates

By now we all know that if something is happening in Belfast, WhyNotSmile will be there, with smiles on, so of course Garden Gourmet was no different, except that this time Mama Smile came too.

Garden Gourmet happens every year in Botanic Gardens, and is basically a food and flower show, jazzed up and with things for kids and that. Mama Smile had expressed an interest in going, and WhyNotSmile is always up for anything in this sort of vein, so off we set and of course left ridiculously early, because we always do (when we used to go on family outings, say on Easter Monday, we would go so early that we'd end up getting there before the car park opened, eating our packed lunch in the car for want of anything better to do, heading home as everyone else started to arrive, and being back in the house for elevenses). So we killed some time in Dunnes, which was nice, and then proceeded onwards in the wrong direction, meaning that by the time we actually got there the thing had already started (not that this mattered - there was no schedule or anything - I just mention it because it's unusual for us).

So we joined the queue and a debate ensued as to whether my mother is a Senior Citizen or not; it turned out that she's not (by Belfast City Council standards anyway), and she was so pleased that she was actually glad to hand over the extra pound that they charge the young.

Anyway, the event itself was marvellous - there was much world food, which could all be sampled; the stalls were nice (although a lot of them had been at the Green Show last week); there were many displays of giant carrots and so on; and there were also the results of a 'make animals out of vegetables' competition, my favourites being these:





There was a stall on recycling, at which we took the opportunity to interrogate the girl about what can and can't be put in recycling bins; they also had a smoothie maker which was hooked up to a bike, so you could make your own smoothie by choosing some fruit and then pedalling hard to smooth it all; you also got a free mug thing to put it in, which made us almost unfeasibly excited.

We muchly enjoyed the cookery demos, although when it came to trying the muscles neither of us was brave enough.

And finally, I picked up a leaflet on how to build a wormery, about which you will no doubt hear more presently.

An Apology, A Grand Day Out, and The Son of Spider-Horse

So, I know I promised that things would be hotting up here at WhyNotSmile now that I have broadband at home, but frankly I've spent far too much time playing this, a lot of time watching this, and more time than is strictly necessary trying to get to the top of the pack in Scramble ladder mode (eventually achieved). So, sorry about that.

Anyway, yesterday I took time out of this hectic schedule for two cultural events: the Lifestyle Green Show (Castle Espie), and Proms in the Park (City Hall). The Lifestyle Green show is a kind of eco-living show, which is held in Castle Espie and where you wander round and get energy saving advice, free apples, a look at FairTrade stuff and it's all generally very good fun. You also get to see the ducks, and you get a free energy saving light bulb and a shower timer. And you also get to park in a muddy field, which Fifi was not at all keen on. I signed up to be a ranger for Sustrans, which will no doubt crop up again in these pages. Anyway, the point is, it was all splendid, and thanks to my friend Philip for giving me a ticket for free admission.

And then in the evening we went off to Proms in the Park: this is the same basic principle as Opera in the Gardens, except that it wasn't raining. Having been mindful of the Opera in the Gardens drenching, we were well stocked with coats and gloves and so on, but in fact it was quite a warm evening, and all was well. We had a very nice picnic and enjoyed much excellent music.

So that was the Grand Day Out, and I would recommend something similar to all of you.

This was a useful end to a weekend which did not start auspiciously: long-term readers will recollect Spider Horse, who paid me a visit about this time last year, and lived in the bath for several days before being unceremoniously removed by Dave. It seems he (Spider Horse, not Dave) liked it, for he has clearly spread the word and his descendants have, well , descended.

Friday afternoon, I was about to do some dishes when I spotted the tangle of legs under the basin. After shrieking, whipping the basin out of the sink, and then retreating to the far end of the room, I decided not to panic. I sneaked back upon the sink, where Son of Spider Horse was now running freely. I doused him with a convenient bottle of water, but this was no lie-down-and-take-it spider, for this is Son of Spider Horse, and is made of sterner stuff. So I used the bottle to flush him into the plughole, and then turned the tap on. After a couple of minutes under the water, I was pretty sure he was dead, so I turned the tap of, thus allowing him to uncurl and crawl out of the plughole. So I turned the hot tap on (and our hot tap is HOT). Then he died. And I felt really bad. But not as bad as I felt a moment later when I realised I now had a dead spider in the sink.

Forward a couple of hours, and Dozavtra comes home. I confess about the dead spider in the sink, hoping she will volunteer to remove it; she does not. In fact, she says she's not touching it, and since I was stupid enough to kill it in there, I have to deal with it. So I decide to just leave it and let it decompose. Dozavtra is not a fan of this idea, and suggests it might start smelling bad. So I get the vacuum cleaner and try to vacuum it out of the sink, but it's too bad and too yucky and I end up screaming.

So I retreat, to consider alternative plans, muttering things about how unhelpful Dozavtra is being. I do not come up with any viable alternative plans, and Dozavtra continues to make threats. Eventually bed time comes, and I go in to say goodnight to the dead spider, because I feel bad about killing it. And it's not there.

Panic ensues, until Dozavtra confesses she chucked it in the bin a few hours ago, but decided not to let on, just to see what I would try next.

And this is what I have been doing since the last time I wrote; hopefully you now understand why it has taken me so long.

The Holiday: Day 3

And so to the final day of the holiday. I'll attempt to be briefer than the last time; I realised afterwards it went on a bit. But you always have the option of not reading it, of course. My dad has a useful tip for avoiding reading things (he had a relative to used to lend him endless dull books): read just enough to learn three facts about the piece - one from the start, one from the end, and one from somewhere in the middle. This usually allows you to speak with authority.

I've uploaded all the photos (except the Art Trail ones) to Picasa.

But back to the travels. The day again dawned bright and fair; not the warmest, but sunny. I started by heading over to Queens; while passing through Botanic Gardens I called into the Tropical Ravine, which is pretty much like entering another world. They have banana plants and other exotic things; it's very warm and muggy, and there are fish. It's like being in the jungle, but with fish.



After that I headed to the Naughton Gallery at Queens; it turned out I was an hour early for the opening, but since the door was open I went in anyway. This is (currently), at first glance, a display of the university silver, but it is actually pretty cool, because they've created a 'soundscape' to go with it. You're meant to borrow a PDA from reception (this is what I was an hour too early for), and as you go round, you can use it to sonically enhance your viewing experience. It's not a commentary, it's actual music, based (somehow) on the artwork of the pieces. I think I'll go back and see if I can try this another day, cos it was disappointing to miss it. But I was able to stamp a hallmark on a piece of paper, so it wasn't an entirely unneccesary visit.

On my way out, I chanced to go into the Queens Visitors Centre, where I found an exceptionally useful display of tourist information, including a booklet on how to see Belfast by bus (could've done with that at an earlier stage), a map of the city (ditto) and a guide to things to do in Belfast in 72 hours, which listed things that had never been suggested in the Tourist place in town, and which has opened the possibility that another holiday may take place soon.

So I took my leave of Queens and wandered down Botanic Avenue and onwards to Ormeau Baths Gallery. If you have never been here before, I demand that you do so immediately. They have 3 exhibitions at the moment: a video called 'Last Riot' (or Final Riot maybe), which is bizarrely compelling; an exhibition called 'Slant' in which various artists have done their own versions of famous paintings (my favourite - Henry the Eighth, having slipped on the carpet); and an exhibition of recent British illustrations (book covers, magazine articles, all sorts). Well worth seeing, and I'm sure I'll go back to see more when new exhibitions come in the Autumn. I was very impressed that it was free, as well.

Next, St Malachy's church, which is indeed closed for massive restoration, to the extent that there's so much scaffolding it wasn't even worth a photo. I consoled myself with a snap of May Street Presbyterian instead, called into Linen Hall Library (well worth a visit, although I couldn't find any toilets, which was one of the more pressing concerns at the time) and then visited (spontaneously) St Mary's Chapel (the one down that side street near CastleCourt). It has a funky little grotto thing:



I had a duke inside as well, and it's very nice. It was quite busy, so I didn't like to take photos, but there were some good paintings and it had a nice airy feel that hadn't been anticipated from outside.

By this stage I really needed the loo and some food, so I stopped for lunch and read the booklet I'd picked up earlier. This suggested a visit to Clifton House and St Patrick's Church; the map informed me of their locations, and I thought 'why not?', and left the cafe so quickly that I forgot to use the loo.

So, I nipped through Writers' Square, and off out West again, for about 50 yards, and into Central Library. This is a very impressive place, and I was able to use the computers, which was splendid. Not much in the way of toilets, as far as I could see, which was by now almost beyond a joke, so I left.

When I got to St Patrick's, it was 12.58 and 1pm Mass was in full swing. Needless to say, I was a bit confused by this; the congregation seemed a tad so as well, as they were still drifting in for a good 15 minutes or so. Although, a sign on the door said '1pm Mass will continue throughout the summer', so it is entirely possible that this particular Mass had actually started on 1st July at 1pm and has carried on without a break ever since; this is the only reasonable explanation I could think of. Anyway, this prevented me from having much of a look round, which was a shame, because it looked quite interesting, with lots of artwork and side chapels and things, so I may go back another time.

Instead, I took a dander to Carlisle Circus, where I saw something to do with the Orange Order, a building which may or may not have been Clifton House, and a church that used to be Carlisle Memorial Methodist, but now isn't.

A quick duke in a St Patrick's on the way back and Mass was still in full swing (lending further support to the theory that it is never-ending), and so back to the City Centre and the place where the whole idea started: St Anne's Cathedral.



Realising that I hadn't ever even seen this building was what made me think I needed to know my own city better, and it was well worth investigating. It really is fabulous inside - there are 2 side chapels, one dedicated to the Holy Spirit and one called the 'Chapel of Unity', which is where a lot of prayer for peace took place during the troubles. The stained glass is fantastic, and the 'soft furnishings' are worth seeing as well. Also, taking photos is allowed, which would have been great except that there were two men who seemed to manage to stand continually in front of anything I might want to phtoograph, seemingly without malicious intent. When I went outside, they'd even parked their minibus on the double yellow lines right in front of the stpes, so even it ended up in the photos.

Next I visited the Northern Ireland War Memorial and Home Front exhibition, which is next to the cathedral, and was greeted warmly by a man who seemed surprised to have visitors. He was extremely friendly and helpful and the exhibition is pretty good - not massive, but informative.

I tried to get to Belfast Exposed, the photography exhibition, but it was closed for the day.

By now the need for facilities was bearing down hard upon me, so I took a quick nip into Clements where I found much relief. This was quickly countered by the glass of orange juice I had to drink to justify the visit, but it was nice while it lasted.

By this stage, however, my luck had turned and I arrived at St George's (the oldest church in Belfast) to discover that it had shut at about the time I'd been breathing a sigh of relief. Another time, maybe.

A quick walk around the Custom House, and then to the Waterfront Hall where I found the remaining two art pieces from the Art Trail, including the famous 'Big Red':



Shoal didn't really come out in the photos, since it consists mainly of thin opaque rods, but you can see it in Picasa if you want.

And finally, onto the 6a and home, for a much needed lie down.

I actually really enjoyed seeing things in Belfast, more so than I had expected; there were lots of things that are worth a visit. Obviously, since I mainly did free things, my itinerary involved probably more churches and squares than average; also I left out things I'd done before (like the zoo, the Opera House etc), and things I was scared of (like the Big Wheel). I was particularly impressed by Ormeau Baths Gallery, and will definitely be returning.

Postcards, by the way, have been posted...

The Holiday: Day 2

Today dawned bright and sunny in Belfast, and WhyNotSmile set off on the next epic leg of the holiday to Belfast. The plan for today was to do things that needed to be done by bus, so the rough idea was Clonard Monastery, then St Peter's Cathedral and Belfast Castle. With this in mind, and guide book in hand, WhyNotSmile set off.

The first setback was that the intention was to get a day ticket for the bus - this allows you to go anywhere in Belfast for a day - but it was realised that these are cheaper after 10am (£2.50 rather than £3.50), so some lingering at a bus stop ensued. Eventually 10am came and went, the bus arrived, the ticket was purchased, and the day had begun.

On arrival at the city centre, I realised that a lack of planning meant that I wasn't altogether sure which bus to take, or indeed where to go once I got off it; WhyNotSmile is not easily dismayed, though, and eventually decided upon the number 10 (Falls Road) service. Having consulted the Metro map, she set off at a jaunty pace in the wrong direction (due to the map being upside down), but quickly corrected things and arrived at the bus stop without further mishap.

The first screaming child of the day (there will be more) was throwing a tantrum on the pavement; thankfully she was carted off by her mother to buy toys and they stayed away too long and missed the bus when it came. The vehicle was boarded, and WhyNotSmile set off, crossing cultural boundaries and sectarian divides, for 'the other side of town'. We only got one stop (about 100 yards) and then the driver pulled over and got off to go into an amusement arcade (I swear this is true); he re-emerged after several minutes (cup of tea in hand) and we carried on.

Unfortunately I didn't bring a map, and had forgotten how to get to Clonard Monastery (except that it had looked simple on the web); however, after a short distance I spotted a sign for St Peter's Cathedral and decided to strike while the iron was hot, as it were, and sort out the monastery thing later. So I got off, followed signs to St Peter's (not very difficult), came upon it and was about to start photographing, when I realised a funeral was just coming out. Not liking to appear touristy, I stood in what I hoped was a respectful pose, waiting for them to go past; unfortunately the crowd lingered for quite some time. After wandering round the building once, they still hadn't dispersed, so I decided to wander off and see what else was in the area. And so I found these murals:


A little bit more wandering was needed, until the hearse eventually drove away, and I was able to hot-foot it back to the church, which looks like this:



St Peter's, according to my guidebook, is an example of Gothic Revival; it was designed in 1860 and work was completed in 1866; it didn't, however, get consecrated as a cathedral until 1986.

I'm never sure whether it's ok to photograph the insides of churches, but tend to take the view that 'what they don't know won't hurt' and just snap away while nobody's looking; this was a little difficult in St Peter's case, as there were people about, so I spent a good while wandering about, reading leaflets, notices, signs and magazines, and was particularly pleased to happen upon the parish newsletter. Thus I was gravely informed that there are "daily masses on Monday-Saturday at 10am and on Tuesdays & Thursdays at 10am". There are also meetings of "Alcoholic Anonymous" twice a week; clearly problem drinking is not a big issue in this part of town, but you have to feel for the poor guy none the less. This also brought home how great is the language barrier for those of us from an evangelical Protestant background in such situations; I have no idea why 'Adorers Are Urgently Needed', why "Candles will be burning this week for the intentions of" two parish members, nor how "mass will be offered for all intentions" of those who attended "the mass of the 1st anniversary" of a Ms Rafferty; none of these sentences makes any sense whatever to me (feel free to provide explanations below). Furthermore, my born-again sensibilities were shaken by the results of the Parish Weekly Draw, listing names and addresses of all those who had won money (although, since the prizes seem to be hard cash, and in bundles of £25 or £50, I could come round to this way of thinking).

Anyway, I eventually sneaked a photo of the inside of the church.

The cathedral is nice inside; not spectacular, but nice. It had a friendly, homely sort of feel, and it was good to see a reasonable number of people wandering in and out. I always feel like a fish out of water in Roman Catholic churches; I never quite know what to do with my hands - the regulars seem to do a lot of crossing and bowing and so on, and in all honesty it's a bit hard to catch on.

Next it was off to Clonard Monastery; as I say, I had totally forgotten how to get there, but had a strong sense that I needed to turn left at the end of St Peter's Close. Thankfully I remembered in time that, while my sense of direction is strong, it is not frequently accurate, so I asked a lady who was lingering at the traffic lights (and had been since I'd got off the bus an hour previously). I was directed up the Falls Road (turning right out of St Peter's Close).

This was quite interesting; there are lots of murals to look at (some referring to the Troubles, mainly to do with political prisoners; others referring to American politics and the Israel/Palestine conflict). I came across a Garden of Remembrance for victims of the Troubles (I didn't look too closely to see who exactly it was dedicated to); then, as I neared the monastery, my eye was caught by a brown sign (the universal symbol for 'Tourist Spot' in Belfast) indicating that I was narrowly missing out on the Cotton Mill. I obligingly took a sharp right and spotted the restored mill up ahead; my attention, however, alighted upon the following note of temptation:



Now, WhyNotSmile is in no way averse to sponteneity, and after the disappointment of Fernhill House being closed, this seemed too good an opportunity to pass up, and so I found myself browsing a museum of Irish Republican artefacts. It's quite a mix of things: weapons, photos, newspaper cuttings and various items made by Republican prisoners while 'inside'; there's also a library attached. Not the most unbiased account of the Troubles you'll ever come across, but interesting anyhow (and free).

And so back to the plan, and off to Clonard Monastery. I realised as I wandered round slightly lost that I always feel a little bit scared in 't'other part of town'; this is not really justified since everyone I spoke to was extremely friendly and helpful, but nevertheless I always feel I look Prod. Anyway, I found the Monastery:



It's build in French Gothic style and was established by the Redemptorists in 1896. Currently 21 Redemptorists live there. Inside is very impressive; there are various little side chapels and shrines, and the main bit of the church is quite artily decorated with mosaics and tapestries. I couldn't get a quiet moment to take a snap, but I dare say you can see photos on their website. There are a lot of confessionals around; what I don't understand is why these have 3 sections: clearly one for the priest and one for the person, but what's the middle bit for? Anyhow, a couple of screaming children convinced me it was time to carry on elsewhere.

Coming back out, I discovered that the sun had renewed its vigil over Belfast, and spent some time wandering about (lost). I was trying to buy some postcards here, but to no avail; eventually a bus stop came into view and I decided to head back to the city centre.

So, back to City Hall, which currently has a photography exhibition in the grounds:



The photos are of families across the world; well worth a look if you're in the city centre over the next few weeks.

And so the morning drew to a close; a cafe was tracked down and thoughts were reconvened over a lunch of red pepper soup. The cafe was near Rosemary Street Non-Subscribing Presbyterian, which I'd have liked to see, but it only opens on Wednesday mornings. Instead, I headed off to Sinclair Seamen's Presbyterian, which only opens on Wednesday afternoons. On the way, I passed Cotton Court, where I was pleased to note that the bins which had previously obscured one of the artworks (see the post about Art Trail 1) had been moved and replaced by a car. I popped in to have a duke at the "Making It" craft exhibition which is on at the moment, and had a chat with the friendly bloke who works there. I also failed to find the Northern Ireland War Memorial Building, which the guide book assured me was on Waring Street; I think it may have moved.

Anyway, I was going to Sinclair Seamen's. To get there I had to cut through a car park, and at this point, rather excitingly, I found the things I was meant to find as part of the first Art Trail; the ones that are on the concrete pillars that hold up the motorway. I think the ones I found before were still part of it, but the ones I found today were the ones that were in the guide to the trail, so that was pleasing.

And finally I came to Sinclair Seamen's Church:


This was established in 1857; it's in an area called 'Sailorstown' and was to minister to local people and sailors at the nearby docks. Over the years it has acquired various 'nautical' furnishings, and these are open to view on Wednesday afternoons. So I wandered in, and was greeted extremely warmly by 3 members of the congregation who make themselves available to show visitors round. A man called Billy introduced himself, asked where I was from and showed me the sights. There are lots of fairly quirky things dotted around: model ships, a torch from a ship that sank, a ship's wheel, navigational instruments, and a bell from another sunken boat, which I was allowed (nay, encouraged) to ring:



Practically everything in this church is worth seeing - I'll put more photos on Picassa web and post the address here; I was very glad I'd had a look inside, and the tour guides presented me with armfuls of books and leaflets to take away and peruse at my leisure.

And thence to the final destination of the day: Belfast Castle. This involved another tricky navigation of bus routes, but it turned out that you get any of the number 1s as far as the Landsdowne Hotel and then it's a half mile walk. Of course, it's a half mile walk if you follow the correct path; if you take the main road through the grounds, it's a much more meandering sort of distance and you will arrive rather hot and bothered and not a little disgruntled. This is the castle:



One of the features of the grounds is a (or possibly 2, depending on what you read) cat-themed garden(s), featuring 9 (or 16) cat or cat-related sculptures/pieces/things. Now this is the sort of challenge to which WhyNotSmile cannot fail to rise; unfortunately on this occasion I could only find 8 cats before being disturbed by a wedding. So I went inside instead, and had a look at the Visitors' Centre. Most of this is the usual mix of information and audio-visual presentations about the history/wildlife/people of the castle/grounds/city, which is all good, but the most impressive thing is that there is a room with a TV screen connected to a camera on the roof; you can control the camera and look at different parts of the city. It rotates 360 degrees and can zoom in and out, so you can really see pretty up close to most things (I was able, for instance, to read the writing on the side of IKEA).

And so a cup of tea, a caramel shortcake, and a squalking baby in the restaurant, and then home via an impressive bus route which must manage to serve most of the north and west of the city and is almost better than the city tours in terms of amount of ground covered.

And so another day has been covered. On my travels I picked up various bits of information which suggested other things to visit, and I passed several things on the bus that I wouldn't have minded a closer look at, but they will have to wait, for the list of things to see is long enough as it is.

Tomorrow I hope to go to Queens (to see the silver collection), St George's, St Malachy's (which may, as I said before, be closed for restoration), Ormeau Baths Gallery, the War Memorial and Home Front Exhibition, Custom House Square, Belfast Exposed and St Anne's Cathedral, and I think that will be quite enough for one day.

The Candy Factory has been taken off the list because it's a wee bit apart from the other things and not too far from where I live, so I can always pop in some day I'm down there.

As I say, I'll put all the photos of the day on Picassa and let you know once I've done so.