Christmas and Boxing Day in NI

Okay, I'll eventually get to the New Year's post, which will be the best.  It involves sheep and the beach, and that's all I'll say.

First things first.  After spending the night at the Europa Hotel in Belfast and touring around on the 23rd, I took the train just 20 minutes outside the city to Moira, the home of my lovely hosts, Sam and Evelyn Briggs.  They have a son my age living in Belfast (Simon) and another who is married with two children.

On Christmas Eve we went to a party with an eccentric but fun host and hostess, who raise sheep and are the N. Ireland leaders of the Int'l Young Farmers or something, which I think is the international equivalent of FFA or 4-H.  John had actually worked in cotton and peaches in South Carolina when he was younger, so I think he had a better idea of where I was from than anyone else.  The church where went went to midnight service was small (and FREEZING-due to someone not remembering to turn the boiler on).  There's a shiny lit thing in the photo which is actually Santa Claus on a motorcycle.  Apparently, the rector is into motorcycles, which didn't really explain the presence of the bizarre decoration, but I was too cold to care.  The parish, Aghalee (pronounced ACK-uh-lee), like the rest of NI lost a significant number of men during WWI and there's a large war memorial on the wall as well commemorating it.  I wanted to take a picture of the church's exterior, since it's around 350 years old, but I was too focused on staying warm.

After a mince pie (they are everywhere!) and a sherry we all went to bed and woke very late on Christmas morning.  "Dinner" (i.e. lunch) was to be served around one, approximately (I was warned).  Well, since none of us woke up until nearly 11 (which is definitely a record for me), this was obvs not going to happen.  We had a lovely salmon appetizer with sparkling wine around 2 while we unwrapped gifts.  My mum gave me pajamas (a long-running tradition) and a new denim jacket.  Sam and Evelyn got me some Marks and Spencer soaps and Simon burned me some CD's of Irish artists.  

Then, around 3:30 we actually sat down to a lovely meal, prepared by Evelyn (with two kinds of stuffing by Sam, which were awesome!).  Turkey, gammon (ham), cranberries with port (delicious!), brussels sprouts (also delicious, don't knock 'em till you've tried 'em), goosefat roasted potates, Christmas pudding, etc.  Of course there were crackers involved.  Crackers are gunpowder-laden toys that always have a terrible joke, a toy and a tacky paper crown in them.  Strangely, everyone in the UK is serious about wearing the funny crowns and doing the crackers before meals.  It's really odd to see grown-ups (even on tv specials) wearing funny hats eating Christmas dinner.  The rest of the day was nice and relaxing (unlike now, with my essays due), and we just watched television and read.

The day after Christmas is Boxing Day here in England.  Boxing Day was formerly St. Stephen's Day, after the martyr, but apparently, it used to be the day when bosses would give their employees bonuses in boxes, hence the name.  It's actually a bank holiday in the UK, Republic of Ireland, Canada, and Australia (and probably a bunch of other places, too).  In the UK and Canada, Boxing Day is also the equivalent of Black Friday and all the high street shops have their huge sales then.  I gladly stayed home with the Briggs' and sat in front of the fire while callers popped in and out.  In the evening, their older son, Robert, his wife Pam and their two children (Christopher and Lucy) came to visit, so it was lots of fun.  They were adorable.  Lucy wore her Sleeping Beauty dress all day, which is awesome.

The next day, before I had to leave, we went to Hillsborough and Government House, the former home of the NI governor (and where the Queen stays when she visits, which is probably not very often).  It's no longer used since NI doesn't have a governor anymore, but it does have a thousand year old fort and a Gothic Revival church from the 1640's, rebuilt after the Restoration (when the previous St. Malachi's church was burned in a rebellion).  The sentry posts in front of the house are the same as the ones at Buckingham Palace.  Evelyn and I were standing taking photos when the gate opens and some guy runs through.  Evelyn goes, "That's Shaun Woodward!"  Turns out, it was the NI Secretary of State!  He had been running, so he didn't shake our hands or anything, but he did say hello and hoped I enjoyed my visit.

This is me in the Queen's box which has a door and fancy blue curtains.  She goes to this church if she comes to NI.

Then, on to Newcastle, a Victorian beachside town made famous by 19th century musician Percy French's Mountains of Mourne.

"Oh, Mary, this London's a wonderful sight

With people her working by day and by night

The don't sow potatoes, nor barley nor wheat

But there's gangs of them digging for gold in the streets

At least when I asked them that's what I was told

So I just took a hand at this diggin' for gold

But for all that I found there I might as well be

Where the Mountains of Mourne sweep down to the sea."

And indeed, they are beautiful, and the weather was amazing.  We ate lunch at the Slieve Donard (the highest peak in these mountains) Hotel which has been around since the 1890's.

Finally, back to Belfast, where I actually walked onto the tarmac to get into my plane with propellers! (Atlanta folks will understand how remarkable this is.  I felt like the president walking out to Air Force One or something.)

Anyway, I've taken half an hour of valuable essay-writing time to post this, so I won't be posting my New Year's tale until after the 19th.  I am here to go to school, you know!