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Lady Grey is a 50 year old cutter rigged cruising yacht, built for comfort not for speed. My wife Linda and I have been cruising the West of Scotland with Lady Grey for 16 years. Last year I noticed a slight smell of burning oil coming from the the original 12 horse power Petters oil engine . In March I decide to investigate and so off with the cylinder heads. The bores are a bit worn so the barrels are removed in order to examine the pistons. New pistons and liners are obtained along with some new gaskets and four valve guides.

I fit the pistons and liners, OD Cars look after the heads, Gary Wishart in Ballymena sorts out the injector pumps.  The injectors are ok, and soon the engine is going again complete with a new coat of paint. I get a new pair of sailing wellies from Caters and during the first week of May all stores are brought aboard.

Saturday 9th May  The grass is cut and we board Lady Grey. After a couple of pints in the club  in Carrick we settle down for the night aiming for a 0330 start, planning to anchor off at Glenarm for three hours and take the next tide for Gigha.

Sunday 10th May.  As it happens the alarm on my new mobile phone fails and I wake at 0400. We  dress hastily and are away by 0415.  Cloghan Jetty slips by in daylight and we encounter foul tide at Muck due to the delay.  We carry on past Glenarm and proceed Northwards down to three Knots as we tuck into bacon butties. By 1245 (HW Dover) we are making 4.5 knots abeam Rathlin. The sea is smooth and it is a beautiful sunny day. We see several porpoises.  Off the Mull we are at mid tide and the GPS indicates nine knots, great stuff! The sky remains cloudless as we pick up a mooring in Ardminish Bay at 1815, fourteen hours out of Carrickfergus.It has been a long day so we dine on board and turn in early.

Monday 11th May  It is a glorious morning and although there was some wind coming into the bay during the night, by morning it has eased and the bay is calm. After breakfast we go ashore but first a visit to the shop. Paul left in February and the new owners are a Dutch couple, Rudi and Ali. They are not used to Norn Iron accents yet and my request for a Daily Telegraph produces nil response!

Next off to visit our good friend John Martin at Burnside. As usual his door is unlocked and we go on in.  He emerges from the shower, dons his dressing gown and greets us in his usual hearty manner. It is agreed that John will dine with us on board Lady Grey this evening, also if we can locate her, Vi Tulloch, the island sculptress.  Meanwhile  we go off to visit the Achamore Gardens. This is the first time we have been here in May and the Rhododendrons are magnificent. I take a few photos.

By the time we get back to the shop the papers are in, even a Daily Telegraph.

We proceed to the Hotel for a pint and a look at the crossword. This sailing lark is all very strenuous. Vi is out, so we go back on board to get the cottage pie ready.  As we have some time in hand we dinghy to the beach by the old boathouse to sunbathe.  Linda has the misfortune to be attacked by a mad collie dog, fortunately it is muzzled and no blood is drawn but it is a scary moment, the dog could have been seriously injured!!

Back on board the coastguard is predicting Easterly 5 to 7 for Wednesday so we decide we will move to Craobh Haven tomorrow. I go ashore to meet up with John and call with Vi, she is delighted to be asked out for dinner and we meet John in the hotel.

Vi is now in her ninetieth year and her sight is failing but she is a rare and gutsy character, getting her on board is made easier as we have brought the boarding ladder this year.         Dinner is excellent as usual, Vi enjoys the red wine and reckons it is just the right temperature, the craic is mighty.  Vi cruised some years ago with a friend in his Clyde Cruiser Racer and has many exciting tales to tell.  Anyway, by 2230 I dinghy the visitors ashore.  There is a little concern regarding the two sailors on a nearby yacht who motored off in their dinghy this morning, they have not yet returned,.  John will inform the coastguard.

Tuesday 12th May After a quick foray ashore for a paper we cast off and head North. The wind is easterly in the Sound of Jura, quite fresh at times and we make good progress. Corrievreckan, the eddies are spectacular. A call to Croabh is made and we slip into berth B28 at 1750, journey time seven hours and 36 miles covered. In spite of the rather strong wind at times it has been a pleasant sunny day and on our pontoon at Craobh we can barely feel a breeze.

Linda is soon busy in the galley and before you know it John’s razor clams are served with garlic butter. The remainder of yesterday’s mince is turned into patties and goes down well with fresh veg. It is a beautiful settled evening as we call up Sandy and Rhona, our friends who live nearby at Ardfern. We arrange to see them the next day at lunchtime.

Wednesday 13^th May  After breakfast we put on the walking gear and proceed over the hill to Ardfern. Sandy is busy concreting-in some posts to form a retaining wall, he is just finishing as we arrive and is washing out the mixer.Soon the wine is opened and we enjoy a bit of chat over a glass or two then lunch of Rhona’s delicious panninis.

We later make a risky decision to visit the yacht haven shop where, sure enough, Linda finds a very nice Joules top. Lady Grey is treated to a new engine battery and Sandy kindly returns us to Craobh in his Volvo.

This evening we dine in Lord Of The Isles, Linda enjoyed her salmon and my pork loin was excellent. If only they would heat the plates!

Anyway, we enjoyed another settled night in Craobh. Tomorrow the Cuan Sound is fair from around 1500 so there is no rush in the morning. 

I arrived in East Belfast in October 1966. I was 17 and apart from an exchange visit to France for a month I had never been away from home on my own. I came from Rostrevor,  a small seaside town and I was used to all the comforts of home. I had left school and was lucky to get a job in the Civil Service as a Clerical Officer. Things weren’t going too well at home as I had fallen for a young Scottish protestant. This was not on for a young Irish Catholic girl in those days. It was many years later when tracing my family tree that I discovered that I was not actually native Irish on my  father’s side. My ancestors had moved here from Somerset in the 1600 ‘s and intermarried. Oh the irony!

The local Parish Priest had been alerted that one of his flock was ‘walking out’ with a protestant and he was none too pleased.

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In those days a trolley bus ticket into town was 4d and it was possible to walk home in the early hours of the morning from The Orpheus, The Astor and the students union at Queens, crossing the Queens bridge without any hassle. Those were carefree years and we enjoyed them to the full.  All the big groups came to Belfast and there was always a show to see. I saw the Beach Boys, Gene Pitney, Neil Sedaka, Them, to mention a few. I saw the premiere of The Sound of Music in the Odeon while the Free Presbyterians demonstrated outside, because of the Catholic theme of the film .
After a year a few us moved to a flat in the university area and my Scotish planter joined me up in Belfast. Within a short time the troubles started and the nights echoed to the sound of gunfire and bombs. The theatres closed and Belfast became a no go area for tourists. Many nights returning from home after the weekend, our bus was diverted through streets that had burning barricades and we travelled in fear of been hijacked.
But I loved Belfast and I returned to East Belfast with Gordon and we have been together for almost 49 years. I was 16 when we met and married at 21. We weren’t allowed to marry in my home town and I have happy memories of being escorted up the Crumlin Road by two army jeeps. We planted some seeds of our own and our offspring grew up mixing with all religions and kept up the tradition set by their parents. East Belfast unfortunately gets bad press but it is a lovely place to live and I remember the 60’s with great affection.

FIRST PUBLISHED: NOVEMBER 28, 2014 ~ EXCALIBURPRESS

Imagine the scene…I’ve tried on at least five dresses of which three I knew I hadn’t a hope in hell of fitting into even with the help of heavy plant machinery.

*Sigh* I exasperated as I imagined how my fully sequinned vintage number would look on me in a parallel universe whilst the voice inside my brain was exclaiming “what planet are you on you mad cat, you’re still the size you were last time you tried this dust collector on”.

Next I was hunched over like a school child forced to wear a naff coat your great auntie Josephine bought and I had a short reminder of how I looked and felt while heavily pregnant in a dress that’s only redeeming quality is the plunging neckline.

On, off, on, off.

“Oh for fuck sake I suppose I better shave my legs” I moan.

“Curly or straight” I holler down the stairs to which I get a reply something along the lines of “curly, get a girlfriend”.

Can’t find a clean towel. Probably among the several bags of clean washing I have now scattered across the upper floor of our house. “This will do” as I fling it on the bathroom floor and hurriedly jump in the shower.

Legs shaved with Gillette Venus razor probably older than my nearly two year old son I’m on the hunt…

Disaster…

The fat pants are alluding me. I’m only a recent convert and somewhat still addicted to the fact that by carefully pouring every inch of my lower body into a teeny tiny pair of industrial elastic strength pants I can turn what looks like more than one roll of “baby weight” (ha…like it wasn’t hanging around before hand) in to a sleek curvature that almost looks natural – albeit bigger than I would prefer – but that’s the price of pizza *sigh*.

Anyway, the fat pant hunt is on…time is of the essence…let the angels rejoice they have been recovered.

Thanks to said fat pants I slide into a wee lacy number that more celebrates my lumps, bumps, curves and imperfections than attempts to conceal them.

“In for a penny, in for a pound” I say as I sing a wee line of “I am who I am, am who I am, needs no excuses” to make myself feel better.

For those who know me they will know I’m not overly vain but I’m not going to pretend I don’t care.

I’m not skinny, I never will be and I’m fine with that especially now I have discovered the true genius of fat pants at the grand old age of 36.

So here’s what I have to say to all the women who try to tell us that how we look doesn’t matter and what we wear doesn’t make a difference to who we are – BULLSHIT.

I like feeling good and I feel good when I delude myself into believing I look as good as I can with the help of some silly wee pants and a dollop of makeup.

I believe in a woman’s right to choose and this woman chooses the right to be a woman and to be free to feel like wearing fat pants and push up bras to make myself feel good.

I don’t wear them for anyone else but me and why shouldn’t I? Why should I be subjected to people accusing me of buying into societies prejudice against women when the reality is it’s me who’s making this choice? And I’m bloody glad I did otherwise I would have been carrying around that spare tyre unnecessarily recently !

@ Tina Calder

http://www.moostoday.wordpress.com

I wrote this poem the day ‘Titanic Belfast’,  the wonderful tourist attraction,  was launched on 31st March 2012. I was inspired to write it by the fact that my grandfather, Hugh McGurnaghan, worked in the Belfast Shipyard.

He started as an apprentice wireman (electrician) on March 3rd 1919.  I have a copy of his Indenture (employment contract) with Harland and Wolff Ltd. framed and hanging on my wall.  Whilst he didn’t work on building the Titanic,  he started working in the shipyard only seven years after the tragic sinking of the ship and this fact instilled an emotional connection with me. 

I am so proud of my grandfather working in the shipyard. It was hard work and he had to travel from Lisburn every day, starting very early in the morning and getting home late in the evening. He earned 6 shillings per week for the first year,  working  his way up to 15 shillings per week in year five . At the bottom of the Indenture is his signature, written in the most beautiful handwriting (you can just see the formation of each letter being the result of hours and hours of practice at school – a practice sadly lost now). I never met my grandfather as he died four years before I was born but I love that I have a part of him, his signature, to look at.

I have visited the Titanic tourist attraction twice and it is beautiful – something that Belfast is very proud of. I hope you like my poem.

Oh Titanic of the Sea

Oh Titanic of the sea

I hear you cry …

What do you say to me?

 

When you left your place of birth

The men who built you knew your worth.

With majestic certainty you sailed away

But on Belfast shore it was your last day.

 

On 15th April when you went to bed

Many went with you, hundreds dead.

Men, women and children gone 

Missed by their loved ones … their memories live on.

 

For one hundred years you’ve been asleep

Hidden … troubled … in the deep. 

Awakened now, glistening and proud

As ‘Titanic Belfast’ we shout aloud!

 

Oh Titanic of the sea

I hear you cry …

What do you say to me?

 

 

By Denise O’Neill

31 March 2012

Advertisers today believe that teenagers today are especially susceptible to persuasive devices used in advertising. So much so that advertisers have metaphorically used the term “slaves” to describe teenagers. This is used to emphasise their point, a slave does what his master says.  Advertisers use linguistic,  presentational and persuasive devices to encouage the client to buy the product thus encouraging teenagers to act in a slavish manner. But is it true that teenagers are so easily influenced?

This brings us to product releasing. Companies will build hype up to their next major release, whether it be a game,  a computer or a phone.  They will try and make people as excited as possible about the product . Adults with spare time on their hands, and with persuasion from their children, might even camp outside stores to get their hands on the product before it sells out. Advertising is huge in modern society.  It is practically impossible to escape from it.  Television,  mobile phones, the internet and the newspapers are common places for ads to be found. Typically teenagers use these devices phones, more than the average adult or child, making them more vulnerable to its message. Teenagers are more susceptible to it,  but cannot afford the products. If the consumer has no money to buy the item and no purchase has made, the advertisers attempt at selling the product has essentially failed.

Teenagers normally get pocket money, which is usually very limited.  Older teens may have a job with a small income, but even older teenagers can’t buy everything they see, making the advertising industry a battle between companies to make their products appeal more to the public.
Teenagers are also less responsible with money, so are more likely to go on a shopping spree, or make ‘impulse buys’ based on an advert  which made the product look attractive.
Teenagers have little time to buy things.  They have school,  which means they can’t take a day off whenever they want to go shopping.

 

Most teens want to break free from the ways of the previous generation. They don’t like being told what to do and that creates the urge to do things differently.  This gives teens a sense of individuality,  rebellion and power, so manufacturers that use this to their advantage will be more successful. Teenagers want to be liked by their friends or peers, and in school will try to become popular.  Being  in possession of material things give students a higher sense of self worth and boosts fragile egos.  Adverts that play on this make the consumer think they’ll become cool and appealing if they purchase the product.  This can cause rivalry between teenagers with competition to buy the better product or the newer phone.
In TV advertisements  humour or repetition can be used to make the ad more memorable. This is especially effective with teenagers as they are more receptive.  They  are generally more easily entertained and if the advert is very entertaining they can make it an inside joke in their friendship group. Making the advert memorable it becomes iconic and so makes it more likely that they will want to buy it.

Teenagers are individuals and like different things. and they  have different morals and beliefs.  Popularity isn’t important to some people but it is to others, so they will buy products that boost their popularity.
Another thing that may make teens buy a product is when it is sponsered by a celebrity.  I personality wouldnt be that influenced but if I was choosing between two products and one was sponsored by Demi Lovato, I’d buy that one.  This is because teenagers idolise celebrities and see them as role models because they are cool. Most want to aspire to be rich, famous, and talented.  Some celebrities are just famous for being famous.  Celebreties such as Paris Hilton or the Kardashians, yet, people still idolise them.

As I mentioned before, teenagers are individuals, not mindless robots that buy without thought. They do think for themselves and decide whether they really need the product. Advertising helps them make a more informed choice. Without it, they would be making more impulse buys.

So in conclusion,  teenagers are definitely influenced by advertising. However I wouldn’t go as far as to say they are slaves because they are under no direct control by these advertisements. They are simply there to help people make more informed purchases and convince the consumer to buy the product. Teenagers can think for themselves and make a sensible decision on whether to buy or not to buy.   Part of that decision will be affected by the points previously mentioned. This does make them more susceptible to advertising, but not under complete control.

I remember it so well, my first trip abroad. France, 1988 with my eldest sister, her husband and their four children. We went Eurocamping in an overloaded Ford Escort, back in the days when it was OK to carry more passengers than what your car was designed to carry. The boot was crammed with stuff and the roof rack was full to capacity, with a few more things tied on, just incase we needed them. We had to stop and pick our sleeping bags up off the Drumcondra Road in Dublin after the rope on the roof rack came loose and our belongings were propelled onto the car travelling behind us.

I recall some of the “essentials” I packed for that holiday: a personal stereo, a selection of cassette tapes, a tennis racquet, bottles of sun cream and all my horse-riding gear. All stuff that was compact and lightweight (tongue-in-cheek!) Tonight, almost 25 years later I’m trying to cram all my “essentials” for a trip to Poland into a piece of hand luggage that’s smaller than most modern handbags. Nail clippers and a handy wee penknife are no-nos: they’d be confiscated at the airport. I can’t bring my favourite moisturiser, nor can I bring my own shampoo, shower gel, toothpaste nor a bottle of water. I can bring a toothbrush, but my lip balm has to be in a sealed, clear plastic bag. I can’t bring my laptop because that would be counted as a second piece of hand luggage and I’m only allowed to bring one (the one that will contain my meagre supply of “essentials.”) I’ll have to wear my coat (it won’t fit into my hand luggage) and one pair of shoes is just going to have to do. I’ll be expected to strip in public at airport security, so there’d better not be any holes in my socks. When I’m being frisked I can watch some of the security guys rifling through my “essentials” – so there’d better not be any holes in the knickers I’ve packed either. And even though I’m travelling abroad, my passport won’t be stamped: we’re all “Europeans now, apparently.

Forgive me for being a misery guts but to me, getting from A to B across an international boundary has become one hell of a chore. With increasing globalisation and increased airport security, travel has lost a lot of its romance and charm. Also, you can’t always shop at the Duty Free, and Tesco’s or Boots are probably a lot cheaper for much of the stuff now anyway! In fact, there’s a fair chance that you’ll find a Tesco at your chosen destination…

Yes, it’s nice to see and experience other places but I don’t travel so much any more, even though travel is much cheaper and more accessible than it ever was before. One vital ingredient of any trip abroad – the getting there and back – has now become a nuisance aspect rather than something that can be celebrated, appreciated and enjoyed.

The other day I popped into a sandwich bar to buy something for my lunch and as I was waiting to be served, a man in his sixties walked in with two children, aged around 10 or 11. The man looked a bit flustered, and had the demeanour of someone who wasn’t familiar with the process of ordering custom-made sandwiches. Just to make conversation, I asked the children “well, are you off school for Hallowe’en?”

That got the conversational ball rolling and I learned that the two young people were off school for a whole week and a half. I don’t recall ever getting a week and a half off school at Hallowe’en: to my mind we only ever got a couple of days off! How times have changed! The children’s grandfather chirped up “Jaysus, I don’t now what to do with these two! I brought them in here to give them somethin’ to do. They’re doin’ my head in!” It was clear that granda was on childminding duty… He watched in agitated awe as the children ordered their sandwiches with aplomb, reeling off the names of sandwich fillings that their granda had probably never heard of. Gesturing towards them he said “God knows what they’re atin’! All this stuff here…God knows what’s in it! I tell ya, it’s not like it was years ago, a good feed a’ spuds, ye knew what ye wur gettin’. It was all good stuff. Is it any wonder people’s all dying o’ cancer? It’s the food we’re atin’, the stress, the fumes from all them cars out there. It’s not a bit o’ wonder people’s all sick nowadays. People aren’t living as long nowadays.” I agreed with him, and told him of the centenarians on my maternal grandmother’s side of the family: her family all lived to be ripe old ages, the youngest passing away at the age of 87.

The man paid for the sandwiches, again despairing of the ingredients contained within which he considered potentially devastating to his grandchildren’s health and their overall longevity. Still agitated, he gestured towards the children and said to me “love, wud ye keep an eye on them two a wee minute? I’m away outside fur a wee smoke…”

The irony!!!

Patrick’s maternal side of the family hail from Rostrevor, Co Down. Patrick is a gorgeous little boy who has faced many problems in his short life but his ability to smile shows that he  has the tenacity to fight to achieve the milestones that many of us consider normal.

Here is Ben’s story

Our son Patrick, who was born on 1 August 2014, suffered severe brain damage at birth. As a result of this tragedy Patrick has enormous challenges ahead and we are determined to give him the best shot at defying his prognosis, and we ask for your help to do so.

Patrick was born with no heart rate, blue and not breathing. It took over 10 minutes of resuscitation for him to take his first breath. Patrick was rushed to St. Mary’s hospital in London where he received “cooling” treatment for 72 hours, and during which time he could not breathe unassisted, was unable to suck or swallow, was fed by a tube and suffered major seizures. We didn’t get to hold him until he was over a week old. He spent three weeks in intensive care during which time he learned to feed orally, started to open his eyes and eventually we heard him cry. No parents were ever as happy to hear a child cry! Patrick had several EEGs, two MRIs, two lumbar punctures and numerous seizure medications before coming home with two terrified and exhausted parents. The MRI showed severe global damage to his brain, which was heartbreaking news for us and our families. Patrick has since had an early diagnosis of quadriplegic cerebral palsy with dystonia. We will not know the likely severity for years, but there is persuasive evidence that outcomes for children like Patrick can be improved with intensive early intervention from the right specialists. As a result, Patrick’s weeks are filled with a succession of appointments with physiotherapists, feeding specialists, gastro consultants, neurologists and many others.

We have learned so far in our journey that caring for a child with special needs is traumatic, exhausting and incredibly hard work. However, we are rewarded for the hard work when we see progress, like the first time Patrick reached out to grab a toy after months of holding toys in front of him, and we take great joy in seeing him achieve little “inchstones”.

Therapies cost a lot of money. We want to give Patrick the best opportunity to reach his potential and we need your help to get there. Please help us to do this by giving generously to Tree of Hope, and in doing so help to fund some of Patrick’s treatment and care needs over the coming years.

Please help us raise £50,000 for Tree of Hope to help Patrick receive therapies and treatments to support his long term physical and mental development.

Should we exceed the target amount (or if we do not raise enough funds, or if they cannot be used for any other reason) the funds raised will go to the general funds of Tree of Hope to assist other sick children.

Should you wish to donate to PJ’s fund go to http:// http://www.justgiving.com  Ben Jackson’s page.