Home, sweet home

We’ve been back from the cruise now for a week and a half, and although feeling rested after two weeks away from home, rolling about on the high seas, we’ve come home to a mountain of work. Some of you may remember me mentioning having a new kitchen fitted, whilst we were away, and whilst it was obviously a good idea to have the work carried out in our absence, we arrived home to find the place in chaos. Like nearly all construction projects, the job over ran, and whilst not by much, it was still sufficient to cause more than its fair share of chaos.

Although the majority of the work was complete, many items were either out of place, or packed away in various boxes, and then tucked away in the garden shed. The most significant issue was the amount of dust, which was perhaps inevitable given the poor condition of the room to begin with. The previous owner of the property had a fixation for pine match-board, which he used to line the kitchen walls, but what might once have been fashionable in the late 1970’s, now looked drab and decidedly outdated. It certainly made the room appear very dark, a look accentuated by the fact that whilst pinewood starts off very light in colour, it darkens significantly with age.

Moreover, the ceiling was in poor condition, a fact made worse by this person’s clumsy DIY attempt at covering it in Artex. The stuff was all the rage during the post-war years, but I have never been a fan of  as it collects dust and looks untidy, even when professionally applied. Left to a bodging amateur, the finish is as bad as you can imagine, but fortunately all that has changed, with the installation of a nice, smooth replacement ceiling directly over the old one. The same applied to the walls, as I’m sure you can imagine the damage caused when it came to removing the pine match boarding. The kitchen now has smooth, professionally plastered walls and ceilings, along with a new vinyl floor covering. Also included in the deal were the cupboards, drawers, work surfaces and appliances, including a gas hob, electric oven, and much to our delight, a dishwasher.

We started the clear out of the old kitchen, several few weeks before our holiday, a job that included the room that connects the space to the dining and office area. We spent a significant amount of time boxing-up crockery, cooking utensils and cutlery, taking some  items to the charity shop, whilst disposing of others. It was a race against time, as the deadline loomed for our Sunday morning departure, but we managed by the skin of our teeth to clear the kitchen-cum-dining room, storing items we wanted to keep in our garden summer house. A few days before leaving, we handed over the keys to the two brothers we’d engaged to carry out the work and then left son Matthew in charge of the property.

That worked well for the first week, but for the second one, the lad was dog-sitting for his cousin, looking after three very lively spaniels. Rather him than us, as he certainly had his work cut out with these hounds, but it did give him a break, plus a change of scenery as well.  His cousin’s house also provided Matthew with a place to shower because halfway through the build project, our hot water system developed a fault. The cause was later identified as a build up of sludge, plus a malfunctioning pump, which was relatively easy to rectify. This isn't the first time that something like this has happened during our absence, but in this instance we’re fairly certain that replacing a radiator in the dining room and thereby disturbing the sludge that had built up in the system, was the cause of the incident.

It was straight back to work on Monday morning, but fortunately my in-tray, or should that be inbox, wasn’t too full, although on the home front it’s back to the clutter and the “joy” of sorting through several decades of accumulated junk. I made a rather half-hearted effort before we went away, but now I have some time to go through what has been haphazardly stored in the shed. I trust that Mrs. PBT will do the same, as she tends to keep many items, but I get the impression that this time around she will grasp the opportunity, and finally let go of things she no longer requires, or indeed desires.

That’s more than enough domesticity for now, but in spite of the upheaval remain convinced that we did the right thing by having our kitchen replacement carried out whilst we were away from the property. And as things slowly get back to some semblance of normality, I shall have more time for the pleasurable things in life, such as trips to the pub. I’ve only had time for a couple of pub visits, so far, one of which involved some excellent Goacher’s beer, in one of their tied pubs- the Rifle Volunteer, in Maidstone. Closer to home, there are several pubs that are due to re-open following either refurbishment, or a change of ownership. So, some interesting times in the pub trade, as well as things closer to home.

 

 

 

A day in Liverpool

The day after Bank Holiday Mondays' disturbing events in Liverpool, Mrs PBT's and I spent some time time ashore in the city. The incessant rain didn't help lift the rather sombre mood in the city, although it didn't seem to deter tourists, or indeed cruise ship passengers. There was an air of excitement onboard ship, as Princess Anne had been due to visit the ship that day, and my good lady wife was keen to catch a glimpse of the royal personage. The Princess Royal's schedule was delayed, because quite understandably the royal personage had stopped off to visit one of Liverpool's hospitals where people injured in the previous day's "incident" were being treated. 

It was my wife's idea, rather than mine, to indulge in a spot of princess spotting, although in the interests of marital harmony,  I went along with her. We ended up flitting  around the ship in search of the elusive "Mrs Lawrence", although as things turned out, we'd have been better staying in our cabin. From our balcony,we would have had a bird's eye view of the royal party as they arrived, as well as saving ourselves a lot of dashing about. We apparently just missed the royal personage as we were getting out of the lift, not that it really bothered me. Five decades ago, when I was a student at Salford University, Anne's late father the Duke of Edinburgh, visited paid a visit to the campus in his capacity of  University Chancellor. Myself, plus a group of friends had been hanging around in much the same fashion, trying to catch a glimpse of "Phil the Greek", and were surprised when he wandered across to where we were standing, to say hello. 

That was then, and this was now, and once the Princess Royal and her party had departed, it was time for Eileen and I to go ashore. So, despite the rain, which by now had started to fall in earnest, we stepped off the ship and set off to explore the city. 

We headed along the water front towards the Albert Dock, and after stopping for the obligatory photo of ourselves by the statue of Liverpool's most famous sons, the Beatles aka, the Fab Four, found a convenient coffee shop, next to the Beatle's Experience. I explained to Eileen that there weren't many pubs in the direction we were heading in, and that we'd be better off climbing up the hill towards Lime Street station. She wasn't over keen on the idea, so we agreed to part company, and meet up back at the ship.

So, I set off into the city, in search of a few public houses. I had a few possibilities in mind, although one was probably rather ambitious. That particular pub was the Roscoe Head, an outlet that has featured in every edition of CAMRA's Good Beer Guide. That's 54 issues, at the last count, and the Roscoe is one of just five pubs to have achieved this distinction. Looking at Google Maps, it was about 30 minute's walk from the city centre, not too far, but far enough, especially in view of the heavy rain, so with no firm plan in mind, I set off in a roughly northerly direction to see what I could find. When we first got off the ship, I had a brief chat with one of the advisors from the Liverpool Tourist Authority, regarding the best pubs nearby, and the quickest, plus most convenient routes to them.

The area where the previous evening's incident took place, was still cordoned off, and to a much greater extent than I expected, so I continued up the hill where a block or two away, I noticed an Okell's pub I'd been to before. Back in April 2010, I enjoyed a pint of Okell's Bitter at the Thomas Rigby. I was on my way across to the Isle of Man, where that year's CAMRA AGM was taking place, and had a couple of hours to kill before the IOM sea-cat departed to the island. The Thomas Rigby was inaccessible, this time around, stuck on the wrong side of the police cordon, erected around the previous day's crime scene, but the nearby Railway, was well and truly open. Decked out in the livery of Robert Cain, a legendary, former Merseyside brewer, it looked very inviting, so I stepped inside.

 I discovered a well-laid out, multi-room establishment that was buzzing which, for a wet and windy, post-bank holiday,  Tuesday afternoon, was a real turn-up for the books. I ordered a pint of Higson's Pale, which turned out to be an excellent drop of beer. Higson's was another, equally famous Liverpudlian brewery, before succumbing to the advances of Boddington's of Manchester. 

The Higson's name has now been revived under the ownership of the Home Bargains chain  and, according to the barman, its beers are now produced by a brewery based in Liverpool's Baltic Triangle area.  I noticed the menu board on the wall, and found the prospect of a fish-finger sandwich too good to resist. At just £7.95 it was good value, especially when it turned up with a small wire basket of chips! With a pint of good beer, a tasty and filling lunch, plus the vibes associated with a thriving, and traditional city-centre alehouse, what was there not to like?

Whilst tempted to stop for another, I thought it would be good to visit another pub whilst in the city, so after consulting What Pub, set off along a side street. Unfortunately there was a police barricade at the bottom of the road, indicating I had inadvertently entered the exclusion zone surround the scene of Monday's incident. Retracing my footsteps, I stopped to take a few photos of what I thought was the other corner of the Railway, even though it was actually another fine, traditional pub called the Lion Tavern. I didn't realise my mistake until back on board ship, and only then after stumbling across the Lion in the book I was reading at the time. 

"A Pub All Seasons" by Adrian Tierney-Jones, constituted my chosen reading material for the cruise, and whilst I still haven't finished it, I've read more than enough to know what Adrian is getting at in this real gem of a book. I'll leave out the name-dropping, despite having met Mr Tierney-Jones, but without giving too much away (I will probably write a review of the book, in the fullness of time), the publication can best be summed up by the sub-title- "A Yearlong Journey in Search of the Perfect British Local." Starting with autumn, Adrian works his way through the four seasons, contrasting the mood and the atmosphere that he finds in journeys up and down the land. Two days after our cruise ship departed Liverpool, our intrepid author finds himself in Liverpool where, unlike me, he finds time to visit the Roscoe Head.

His description was enough to make me wish I'd called in at the Roscoe, but worse is to come, as on page 145, Adrian stops off at the Lion Tavern - the very same Lion I mistook for the rear of the Railway. I'd obviously missed another gem of a pub, and one which, if anything surpassed the adjacent Railway. It's obviously easy to be wise after the event, but had I been a few pages further on in the book, then I could have visited the Lion, alongside the Railway.

We're getting near the end now,  and I ended up at the nearby Denbigh Castle, thanks in no small part to the aforementioned police "exclusion zone."  Situated in the quirky named Hackins Hey, just off Dale Street, the Denbigh Castle is one of two pubs owned by the independent Small Hands Company. 

 With its attractive, blue-painted frontage, spacious and well-laid out bar, plus four cask ales, it was quieter inside the pub than was the case at the Railway, and there were fewer customers as well, but the pub had a nice chilled-out atmosphere. A pint of Heaps of Sheeps from Castle Rock Brewery, rounded off the afternoon, before I headed back to the Queen Anne, and a catch up with Mrs PBT's.

Any port in a storm - the James Watt, Greenock

Greenock, is an historic industrial town on the Firth of Clyde, 25 miles west of Glasgow. It was the fourth port of call, on our Round Britain Cruise, and the first one where we could just walk off the ship, and straight into the town centre. This made a welcome change from the tenders, or even busses, that effected the previous ship to shore transfers. 

Mrs PBT's was particularly excited about this easy means of getting ashore, especially as she had spotted an enormous Tesco's, whilst carrying out a spot of research ahead of arrival in Greenock.  The local authority are keen to capitalise on the town's deep-water berth, with its obvious appeal to cruise liners, and have constructed a modern Cruise Terminal, connected by a short walkway to the centre of town.

After disembarking, the pair of us headed into the town centre, and towards Tesco. You couldn't really miss the massive superstore, but being a supportive husband, I thought it wise to indulge my good lady wife's requirement for a spot of retail therapy.  She didn't really need any more clothes, in fact she definitely didn't need any, but somehow she can't resist the siren call of the clothes rack. To be fair, she bought me a hoodie, plus a T-shirt alongside a number of items for herself, but as someone who has been trying to slim down his already sparse wardrobe, a hoodie wasn't a fashion item I was in desperate need of. To satisfy my own "obsession" I purchased a number of bottled beers, from the Loch Ness Brewery, to drink in the cabin, of an evening, and I'm pleased to report that those I've sampled so far, have been very good.

Shopping expedition over, I escorted Mrs PBT's back to the ship, before setting off to explore the town, on my own.  I was in good company, as there were quite a number of Queen Anne's crew, heading off into the town as well. I'm not sure how much shore leave crew members get, but the groups I saw were all in a jubilant mood. They had all dressed down as well, which much have come as relief, particularly for the waiting staff, to get out of their stiff, starched uniforms. I believe the correct term is "de-mob happy!" As for me, a pint or two was on the cards, but in a country where cask is now quite thin on the ground and, totally absent in areas such as the Highlands & Islands (as we discovered earlier in the cruise), where would I find a decent pint?

What Pub threw up a few examples in Greenock, although as none of them seemed very inspiring, the obvious answer was to seek out a place where the presence of cask is virtually guaranteed. This meant, of course, the local Wetherspoons. I'm well aware that I've been quite critical of Tim's "barns" in the past, but needs must and all that, and the old adage of "any port in a storm" certainly applied to Greenock's Spoons. The Greenock JDW is named after local hero, James Watt the famous Scottish inventor, mechanical engineer, and chemist. Watt also gave his name to the unit of electricity, and whilst sharing the same name as one of the two Brew Dog founders, is obviously not the same individual! 

The James Watt, is an imposing, stone-building, which was designed as Greenock's main Post Office. It first opened its doors in 1899, and cost £20,000 to construct. The pub is situated just the other side of Greenock's main retail park, and was a bit of a hike from the cruise centre, but I fancied a walk, even though this would be my second trip ashore that morning. Like many other JDW pubs that began life as re-purposed, former commercial or financial buildings, this grandiose former post office lends itself to be being a pub. It was ticking over nicely when I arrived, with a wide range of customers sat inside, sheltering from the inclement weather that was sweeping down and across the estuary, from the surrounding hillsides. 

When I walked in, I found that a queuing system was in place, and with just one staff member taking customers orders and dispensing the drinks, ordering food was rather an issue. This isn't a problem for those familiar with the process, but for infrequent customers like me, it was rather confusing, as every dish came as part of an offer, that also included a drink. From past experience, I know that drinks included in the food offers, are usually limited to basic swill, such as Ruddles Bitter, GK IPA, plus whichever "cooking lagers" are on sale at the pub. Like I said, the opportunity for me to sit down and browse the food menu, hadn't occurred, and whilst I could have returned to the bar having done so, the queue wasn't getting any shorter.

So what about the beer? Well, along with the usual suspects, Abbot, Doom Bar, and Ruddles Bitter, there was one local beer on sale, in the form of Belhaven 80/-, plus an old favourite, Jaipur from Thornbridge Brewery. I enjoyed a pint of each, with the Jaipur unsurprisingly coming out tops. The 80/- was alright though, and it's good to see this traditional Scottish ale, enjoying a  bit of promotion. I have to say that sadly, I saw precious little cask being poured, during my visit. Fortunately, the two cask ales I tried were both in reasonable form, and made a welcome change to nationally promoted keg lagers, and Irish stouts, that I'd been drinking at some of the other ports we visited, on the cruise.

As you probably gathered, I decided against ordering something to eat at the James Watt, and waited until I returned to the Queen Anne. After all, most of the food on the ship is "all inclusive." That aside, my visit to the pub showed the JDW chain in a good light, apart from the shortage of staff, and the same applies to the town of Greenock, itself. 

Stornoway and the Western Isles

Here are few more thoughts about cruising that have sprung to mind over the past couple of weeks. If you've read similar in previous posts, then please accept my apologies. My first thought concern keeping fit, an area that is particularly important, considering the amount of food on offer, and the easy access to it. Walking is one answer, although there are other activities such as deck quoits, deck tennis, a couple of swimming pools, plus, for the real posers a gymnasium or two. I of course, stuck to the walking and whilst the promenade deck on the Queen Anne lacks the open sea views of the other ships in  the Cunard fleet, it's still popular with passengers. 

Two and a half laps around the deck equate to one mile, but despite signs indicating the direction of travel (clockwise), it's amazing the number of walkers who either haven't seen it, or blissfully choose to ignore it. That aside, walking around the ship is quite sufficient to clock up the steps, and I'm pleased to report that, most days I've clocked up the requisite 10,000 + steps. Using the stairs, rather than taking the lift, is another way of maintaining fitness levels, and as the elevators, as our friends from across the Atlantic like to call them, are often crowded, the stairs make perfect sense. Another point worth noting here, is the age of many of the passengers, and whilst I wouldn't like to guess their average age, I'm fairly certain it will be some way above our age of three-score years and ten.

Our cruise ship docked at Stornoway on Wednesday lunchtime, and once the crew plus the local port authorities had established a "secure area" around the perimeter of the ship, guests were free to go ashore. It was a 15-20 minute bus journey into the centre of Stornoway, with a fleet of  buses, providing a regular shuttle service, although for the fit and reasonably healthy, there was the option of walking into town. 

This was by means of an all-weather gravel surfaced footpath, which was visible from the path. The guide on the ship had announced that the walk would take around 50 minutes, although looking on the map, provided free by the port authority, I think this was a little optimistic. Despite these misgivings, I was tempted to give the walk a try, but as Mrs PBT's said it would be anti-social of me, that put paid to that! The contrast in attitudes between those of the Stornoway port authorities, and those of Invergordon could not have been more striking, (no pedestrian traffic allowed in Invergordon port!)

The following morning, we took the shuttle bus into Stornoway, and were very impressed with what we found. As well as being a work-a-day port, the town is obviously the centre of commercial life, in this area of the Isle of Lewis. We ended up missing the town's sole real ale outlet - the Crown Inn & Harbour Bar, although we didn't look that hard whilst trying to find it. Instead we chanced upon the Star Inn, a cracking little pub looking out across the harbour. Even Mrs PBT's who's not the best known connoisseur of public houses, had to admit it was a real gem. 

No cask, of course, but only to be expected in this part of the world. The beer offerings were Tenants, Amstel, John Smiths, Moretti, and Cruzcampo, a beer that seems to be the new Madri! As I wrote a short while ago, the frequency at which these new, trendy, and "must stock" brands pop up on the bar, is either a sign of desperation on the part of the big international brewers, or evidence of the fickleness of the "premium" lager market. Beavertown Neck Oil was also on sale, and I did witness a pint being ordered. I might have ordered a pint for myself, had I seen other drinkers ordering the beer, but instead, decided to play things safe. After all, keg beers can also suffer the effects of slow turnover. 

Instead I ordered a pint of Guinness which, whilst never my favourite, turned out to be in fine form. The friendly girl behind the bar, who served me my pint, apologised for the slow pour, and explained that she had just put a new keg on. The Star was definitely a "wet led" pub, because apart from crisps, no food was available - as a small group of Americans discovered. They were given directions by the barmaid to a couple of pubs that would satisfy their requirements.

The recommended pub might have been the town's sole cask ale outlet, although I wasn't really paying much attention.  Strangely enough, copies of Gael Ale, branch magazine for CAMRA branches covering the Highlands and the Western Isles, were on display in the bar, so I took one away, to read later. (The biggest CAMRA branch in the world, according to the cover, although we're obviously talking about geographical areas here!) The Star seemed to have its own band of loyal regulars, none of whom seemed perturbed by the steady stream of "strangers" coming and going from the cruise  ship, and all in all the pub was a pleasant and very welcome find. 

Had food been available, then I'm sure we would have eaten there, but instead after doing a spot of shopping. Mrs PBT's can't resit the shops, especially as there were branches of both Peacocks and Boots in town. There were a couple of items I needed from these two stores, so after purchasing our various goodies  we queued up for the next available shuttle bus that would take us back to the ship.

Back on board ship, we discovered that the Queen Anne is the largest vessel to have visited Stornoway. We wondered as much, because we were berthed at the recently opened cruise centre, which was specially constructed to accommodate vessels of this size, and to open up the Western Isles to cruise ships. By the time we sailed away, on Friday evening, the fine weather we'd enjoyed since leaving Southampton (and before that), was on the way out. The skies had clouded over, the wind was getting up, and the temperatures were dropping. Overnight we would be sailing in a roughly southerly direction, and heading for the Isle of Mull. We wouldn't be docking there, but instead would be experiencing what is known in nautical circles as a "cruise by." Unfortunately, the weather the following morning wasn't exactly conducive for us to fully enjoy the scenic views we had been promised, but that's a tale for another day.    

Southampton, via the A272 cross-country route

Our drive down to Southampton the other weekend, followed a different route from our usual one. I shall explain the reason shortly, but for a moment let's reflect on our usual drive which is to follow the A26 from Tonbridge, down to Lewes, via Tunbridge Wells, Crowborough and the Uckfield. 

It's a route I know well, after having worked for three years in Lewes, but as far as speed is concerned, the A26 is not the quickest of roads as it's single carriageway in its entirety. At Lewes, we turn onto the A27, which then takes us into the back of Brighton, close to Falmer and Brighton & Hove Albion's football ground, before continuing on past Hove, Worthing, Arundel and Chichester, before picking up the M27 at Portsmouth. From there it's a relatively straight forward run into Southampton - providing you don't follow the route suggested by Mrs PBT's sat-nav! That's a story for another day, though.

This time around, I was advised by a work colleague to avoid Worthing altogether, as the roads there recently have been gridlocked, due to cable installation, or some other "essential" task. My colleague lives locally, and because of the road works, advised me to seek an alternative route. He came up with the same road as me, which was the A272, a cross-country road that starts just outside Uckfield, and then continues all the way to Winchester. It's not the fastest of roads, as not only does it twist and turn a lot, but it also crosses several of the major routes that radiate out of London, like the spokes on a wheel. The A272 is a road I've long wished to journey along, as it would bring back memories of the time my father decided that taking the cross-country route, that avoided London, back from South Wales, was a good idea.

I think that like me now, dad wanted to experience a part of his youth, which was why after stopping off at Stonehenge (an attraction the family had visited before), he continued on to Winchester where, up on St Catherine's Hill he'd carried out various manoeuvres and other military stuff, as part of his National Service, with the 7th Armoured Division of the King's Royal Rifles aka, the "Desert Rats". Dad was in his element here, reliving the experience of, what he described as, "playing soldiers." He was also fortunate that his National Service only took him as far as Hampshire and Germany, as some unlucky conscripts were posted to active war zones, in areas such as Malaya, Kenya or even Korea, and quite a few of them, sadly, never came back. 

I've a feeling that on that trip we also visited Winchester's imposing cathedral, although that might have been on a different occasion, but whatever the case we picked up the A272 there, and continued on what seemed like a never-ending journey back to Kent. The family lived just outside Ashford at the time, so not only did we have the whole of the A272 to travel along, but there was then the added "bonus" of the rural route across to Tunbridge Wells, followed by the A262 back through Goudhurst, Cranbrook and several other villages further east. 

In short, the journey took an age, but my father seemed to relish it, and it was almost certainly the inspiration for me wanting to repeat part of that monumental drive. There were places such as Petworth and Petersfield, with similar sounding names, that stuck in my mind, there were also several "hursts" along the way as well (Midhurst, Billingshurst), and whilst hurst is a common suffix in the Wealden areas of Sussex and Kent, these places had a certain appeal about them, that like my father, I also wanted to experience again. The fact that some of these places, whilst not quite on my doorstep, are close to home, was also not lost on me either. 

So, shortly after 8.30am, on a bright and sunny Sunday morning, Eileen and I set off on our drive down to Southampton, in order to join our cruise ship. I'm not going to describe the whole journey, but the strange thing is that 50+ years after that journey along the A272, none of the towns and villages we passed through, looked remotely familiar! 

This didn't matter though, and if anything added to the experience, although the drive from Uckfield to Petersfield did seem to take an inordinately long time. The road now bypasses certain towns, such as Haywards Heath and Billingshurst, although I don't think it did 50 or so years ago. There are plenty of twists and turns along the way, and some quite narrow stretches as well. The A272 isn't a road for putting your foot down either, and most of the way we were lucky to make 40mph, but despite the slow progress it was a pleasant and enjoyable drive.

We stopped for a "comfort break" at Midhurst, which seemed a pleasant and attractive town, and a bit later on we passed through Petworth. If anything the latter seemed even more appealing than Midhurst, and it set me thinking, that this relatively unknown part of West Sussex would be a good place to explore further, and get to know some of its pubs. I noticed that Simon (BRAPA), has recently been GBG ticking in the area. I haven't got round to reading his reports yet, although I expect they will make interesting reading. I'm not sure yet whether we will be taking the same route when we return from Southampton, but I will be checking in advance with my colleague to establish the state of play regarding the roads around Worthing. 

Spoiler alert, after consulting my colleague, and finding the roadworks had been lifted, we took the southerly route, via the A27. It was not as attractive, but was considerably quicker.

A quick update as the cruise draws to an end

It's time for an update, and whilst I haven't posted anything for a week, or more, I haven't been idle. Problems connecting to the internet whilst on board ship, to say nothing of the cost, are responsible for my online silence, but I have been busy knocking out posts for when I eventually get home. 

One thing that hasn't changed though, is my inability to post photos, and whilst I don't think it's the same issue as the one affecting Simon Everitt, the end result unfortunately, is much the same. With luck, I can go back over the past four or five posts, when I get home, although please bear with me, as I'm straight back to work the day after we return. 

We're on the homeward leg of the voyage now, having departed our final point of call a couple of hours ago. The location we've recently departed was the
charming Irish town of Cobh, a place that found unwanted fame, if that's the right word, as the last port of call by the Titanic, as it set out on its ill-fated voyage across the Atlantic. It was the place where many of the poorest people embarked on the liner as they set off in search of a better life in the New World, a life that sadly, was not to be for many of them. As for us, all being well, we are due to dock at Southampton, on Sunday morning. 

Cobh itself though was charming, in fact I'd go as far as saying it was picture perfect. Known as Queenstown, until 1920, when its name was understandably changed following the creation of the Irish Free State, Cobh acts as the port for Cork. The latter is the second largest city in the Irish Republic, and the home to two famous brands of Irish stout, both of which are more than capable of giving Guinness, the country's most famous export, a good run for its money. More about Beamish and Murphy's later, as Cobh's style and appeal go way beyond the delights of two, very good, dry Irish stouts. 

The setting, overlooking several large inlets of the Irish sea, not only allows suitable deep water anchorage for large vessels, including cruise ships, such as the Queen Anne. Several fellow passengers claimed that Cobh reminded them of Cornwall, which is a description I would whole-heartedly agree with, as both locations are text-book examples of drowned river valleys, formed by rising sea levels at the end of the last Ice Age.

 It wasn't just the charm of the town and its multi-coloured, pastel shaded buildings, that ticked all the right boxes, for Mrs PBT's and I, it was the easy-going appeal of Cobh itself, and its inhabitants that sold the place to us. The weather helped as well, with the longest and warmest spell of sunshine of the entire trip. That's it for the time being, we've got one more full day at sea, and then it's back to reality - until the next time.