I've put this up onto THBB before, but I feel I'd want to put the copy of my text into here, too. It wrecks any chronology of telling you about my trip to Northern-Ireland, but so what: I first put the text into WORD, anyway, in order to be able to save it, so why not copy it from out of there for the blog again? So here we go, warp yourselves for a long, long read!
As you might know (or not know), I was on holidays in Northern-Ireland, from where I returned on Wednesday, 2 p.m.. And as by now most of the heaps and heaps of washing have been seen to and all the remains of my kids running the house have been cleared away (as their motto must have been: “What? Wiping tables and worktops? Never heard of that! Cleaning bathroom sinks or whole bathrooms? Never heard of that! Mowing the lawn? Never heard of that!”), I now have the time to tell you something about my Newcastle Adventure!
We travelled to Northern-Ireland by coach. It was a group trip. We left my home-town of Dorsten for Amsterdam-Ijmuiden at around noon of that Wednesday, two weeks earlier, and caught the boat from there to Newcastle. On the following day we travelled from the east to the west, through north England and south Scotland, alongside Hadrian’s Wall, via Carlisle, and on to Stranraer, caught the Fast Ferry there to Belfast, where we arrived at about 10 at night of the following Thursday, went on to Ballyclare and were there expected by our respective hosts. Idea of this sort of exchange visit has always been the personal contact, private accomodation, joint experiences: it’s been an exchange between our Lutheran Church of Dorsten-Holsterhausen and Ballyclare Presbyterian Church for now exactly 50 years!
But since this is to be about our Newcastle Adventure, I’ll skip anything and everything about our stay in the very Ballyclare and Northern-Ireland for now.
Arrival at Newcastle on the morning of Thursday, 30 July, was as smooth as the trip across the North Sea had been, not considering that bit of excitement and even stress for some when we found out – still on the Dutch side of the ferry trip – that one of the members of our group had not brought passport nor ID-card (either of which would have done, but neither of them was a big problem!). That problem never got solved other than that the person had to wave us good-bye from the quayside while our boat left for England and she was stranded in the Netherlands! (In the end there was a solution, albeit a very expensive one for her: her son came all the way out to where she was, got her home, and got her onto flights to Belfast on the Thursday, where ultimately she arrived even sooner than we did!).
The way back was ok, too, the Fast Ferry left again from Belfast port early in the morning of Monday, 10 August, we had time to stop over at Gretna Green, and once more at Vindolanda on Hadrian’s Wall, from where our bus driver insisted we leave at 3:15 p.m. “at the very latest!”. And off we went towards Newcastle, and while still on the motorway around Newcastle, there were the signs with that little boat and cars inside it: clearly the way to the ferry port. Only a) our driver’s NavSat had been set to the city centre as he didn’t know what exactly to give as our destination, and b) half way gone north on that motorway following the signs, he suddenly was afflicted by a severe bout of uncertainty about whether this COULD possibly be the right way!?!?! And my sister, who was studying the map book over and again said “We must find an exit on to A1058!” and we never found it. And our driver got nervous, became convinced we were all wrong, and decided to leave the motorway, make a turn, and go back in the opposite direction. Wrong move! But did we know that? No, we didn’t!
Once across the Tyne and on the south side of it, it occurred to him that we were as wrong (supposedly so) as we had been before, and he got more and more nervous. As I was usually somewhere near the front of the bus in order to be there to interpret (during guided tours within Northern-Ireland), he called me to the seat right by his side and said, “I need you here now!” And upon the instant we saw a big shopping mall looming, he left the motorway and said, “We go ask for directions.” So as soon as we saw people (it was just that one couple), I hopped out of the bus, ran over, and asked. But to little avail: they weren’t local, and all their attempts to help us were futile. On we went, saw a petrol station, again I was asked to go ask for directions, the lady was as helpful as she could be, but unfortunately her hint proved to be wrong that as soon as we’d have gone that way and that and would have passed the bridge across the Tyne, the way to the port would be signposted.
In the end, we found ourselves in the VERY centre of town! Right in the middle. It was there and then I finally learned that it was 20 to 5, and that the boat was due to sail at 5 sharp! No wonder both my sister and our driver had been so nervous about it. And now our driver got even more nervous, as “city centre” (without knowing where to go and not a single little sign pointing us in the right direction) was definitely as wrong as it could be! A mobile phone and a sheet of paper with a contact number were thrusted into my hands and realised I was to call the DFDS Seaways to tell them about our dilemma.
A female machine voice told me for the whole of 2 long, long minutes how much this call would cost me using a landline, how much using this or that or the other mobile phone company, and that I would now need to touch a 1 if I was using a touch-screen mobile phone and do nothing if I didn’t (bla-bla-bla-bla-bla!!!), until I was finally put through to a human female voice. Young and friendly. I told her I was calling on behalf of this certain bus company and that we were booked onto the Amsterdam ferry for that night, and our booking number was so-and-so, and she said, “Oh! We are WAITING for you!” and I replied, “We're lost in Newcastle City Centre and can’t find our way to the port!” Well, she then told me, the boat was going to leave in a quarter of an hour, and we’d never make it out to the port from the centre in only just 15 minutes, but “never mind, you’ll need to come out to the port anyway for us to give you your new bookings”, to which I said, “No, we must not miss that boat, we NEED to catch it, what can be done?” She connected me to someone male, also very friendly, who must have been somewhere higher in the hierarchy of port authorities, I never understood exactly who he was, I’m afraid, I told my little story all over again, and he asked: “Where are you now?” I couldn’t possibly tell, as I’d never been to Newcastle before, all I could tell him was that I was seeing a sports stadium in some distance in front of me. “Oh, you’ll never make it out here in time,” he then said and then: “Hang on!” He conferred with someone else in the background, so it seemed, and it’s been my interpretation since that he put himself in touch with the very captain of our boat, and came back to say “We give you 20 minutes. Keep me informed on the progress of your journey!”
But where were we to go? Left? Right? Back? Forward? Our driver was at a complete loss… Someone suddenly shouted from behind: “Look, a taxi stand!” and before I even realised what their plans were, I was out on the road, running across to the taxi to explain to the taxi driver that he was to lead the way for us, and my dad called: “Hop in, go with him!” and we set out and only then did I have the time to explain to the very nice, good-looking, young, friendly Pakistani driver that I would need to be at the Port at 5 sharp to catch a boat, and not only me but also the entire bus behind us!!! “Five o’clock??? Port? We’ll NEVER make it! Impossible, it’s the rush hour, too!!!” he said, all appalled. “But let’s try!” he continued, and we tried. Often he would have gone with the amber light but braked as not to lose the bus behind him. Later I heard that the bus driver was more than willing to take the risk and WOULD have crossed at the red lights behind the taxi, but did we know that? Once the bus even almost crashed into the taxi from behind as the driver was so willing to cross as fast as possible…! Anyhow, at one stop at the lights, my sister came running over to give me phone and contact number (all had gone so fast, I had jumped out of the bus and into the taxi all empty handed). Soon traffic became lighter again and the roads wider and I asked the driver were we were. He said, soon we’d be on the coast road. I waited for that to happen, then pushed in the contact number again. The machine lady … groan! Finally, after all those 2 or 3 minutes, a human voice. Female, young, friendly, but apperently NOT the one I’d spoken to before. So I had to repeat my story all over again, she said “The boat will sail NOW! You’re missing it!” and I said, “No, we were given extra time, I spoke to a male voice earlier on, don’t know who he was but I want to be put through to him once more, he wanted to be kept up-to-date with our progress.” She seemed to understand, put me through, there was the familiar voice again, and I said, “We’re on the coast road now, going underneath (to the taxi driver “Where? Where are we exactly?” and he told me, I understood wrongly but the man on the phone still understood where we were) Shielding Road (or something like that), and we’re making good progress!” He once more said “Hold the line” and conferred with someone of whom I am strongly convinced he was the captain of our ship, and came back to say: “OK, 10 more minutes. We give you 10 more minutes”, and I relayed that to the driver who replied: “Should work!”
On we sped, my driver always looking into the rear mirrors saying “Come on, bus-driver, come one!” (Later I heard that the bus driver had kept saying “Why is that taxi going so slowly!?” ;-) ). And there the port was finally signposted again and we rushed on and into the precincts, on towards the only big boat there, empty space before it, not a car nor bus nor lorry in sight any more, and we rushed in, the bus behind us, and out of the building so-and-so many people came to greet us (not precisely cheering, mind you).
Since we were a bus group and not travelling in our private cars, we all had to disembark (and many were elderly and not precisely fast walkers!), go into the building, get our boarding passes … and then, when I, among a few other fast walkers, was done with checking in, we were told to get back on the bus for the screening device, then get back out of it again, to finally walk on board. So we filed out again towards the bus when some other official called out “Where are you going? Why do you all come out again?” and I explained and she replied: “No! No! You’re all cleared. Up on board with the lot of you!” I called back, “Do go inside with us then, as in there they don’t seem to know we’re all cleared”, so she came with us and explained, and off we went, luggage all unchecked (save for one person out of the group whose bags got hand-checked, maybe for the books, what do I know?!), through the long roofed gangway and on board.
Now there were a few who walked well and fast, and a few who didn’t, and there was this one lady who is very, very asthmatic. Just inside the boat, where two stewards waited for us and send most of the group up to Deck 6, I told them I’d prefer to remain put until even the last of the group had passed me by and explained that there was this lady with severe asthma … and ultimately she arrived and I thought she’d die on us on the spot, right there and then, she was so bad, she could hardly find her inhaler, but after three puffs she could breathe better again, so her husband took her to Deck 6 in the lift…
My – that was a stressful way of catching a boat!
Later we met up with our driver (who had to put the bus on board first, of course), and my sister, my dad and I took him to the bar on board for a beer so he could unwind a little, and he then told us: “I’ve NEVER driven a bus in that manner ever in my life. Never! Not even while taking the security training classes! And I really can’t forgive myself that I drove in this manner with guests on board!” But I could console him, for I had by then learned that several of those that were in the rear of the bus never realised anything was wrong, not until the very end of this helter-skelter drive of his!
But what do they say? "All's well that ends well", and the 25 pounds for the taxi were some well invested money, I should say because had we missed the boat we would have had to find accomodation for all of us for the night, food on the following day, I don't know if getting a new booking on the boat leaving at 5 on the following day would have brought up extra costs, too, I would have missed my prebooked and prepaid train home to here, would have needed to buy me a new (much more expensive train ticket...). Dear-oh-dear. We were sooo lucky we caught that boat in the end.
The following morning at breakfast on board, I said, "We should actually write up a short note for the captain to have it sent to the bridge to say thank you." And I bought a nice card in the ship shop, wrote a nice thank-you text, had all the group members sign it ... and now I hope it made the captain a little happy so see how very, very grateful we were for his waiting for us!
