Walking the Capital Ring from Balham to Kingston Vale

31st May 2026

Bored waiting for a parcel to arrive that DHL appear to have lost instead I returned to Balham (Gateway to the South) to complete Section 5 of the Capital Ring to Wimbledon Park and then start Section 6 towards Richmond.

Finishing Section 5 

Leaving the railway station I passed under the bridge and back down Balham High Road to the large Art Deco block of flats, Du Cane Court where I turned right along Balham Park road. Balham Park Road was very long and straight and lined with large Victorian villas. Just after the postbox the road bent to the left and the Capital Ring turned left down an alleyway.

At the end of the alley I reached the first part of Wandsworth Common, a small wooded area alongside Wandsworth Common railway station called St James’ Triangle. A wide tarmac path led me alongside the railway and through the station ticket office to Bellevue Road which I crossed by The Hope pub to enter the second part of Wandsworth Common. Where the path turned towards the railway again I spotted a stinkpipe hiding in the trees so two points to me. 

A bit further on I reached the ponds on the common, which don’t appear to have a name. They did have one bench seat that was in the shade though so here I sat to eat my picnic lunch. I opened a packet of crisps and looked up to see every waterfowl on the pond now on a direct course to my location. A female Mallard came and stood before me staring hopefully up between my knees but eventually realised that no cheese and onion crisps or crab paste sandwich was coming her way and waddled off.

After lunch I carried on, crossing the common by the sports pitches to arrive at Trinity Road opposite the County Arms pub. Here I had my first déjà vu moment of the day. I recognize this place, I’ve been here before. I crossed the road and continued along Alma Terrace where I found the reason I’d been here before, HM Prison Wandsworth. No, I haven’t been inside but I have visited their occasionally-open museum in a building just outside the walls, on an Open House London visit in September 2022.

Today I skirted the prison and headed down the long straight Magdalen Road, taking the more interesting alternative path through Wandsworth Cemetery for most of the three quarters of a mile to Earlsfield Station.

More déjà vu here too as I passed beneath the green painted bridge and left into Penwith Road to cross the River Wandle which I’d followed on a walk in 2019. The Capital Ring does not follow the river though, instead passing along now sun-baked residential streets to Durnsford Road Recreation Ground. Here behind Wimbledon Farmers’ Market I found the only bench that was in the shade and sat down gratefully. So much for the weather cooling down a bit, it was 28°C.

I came out of the park into Wellington Road and turned right by the Wellington Works down an alleyway which brought me out opposite Wimbledon Mosque where I turned right along Durnsford Road and right again into Arthur Road. Here I took full advantage of the shops, getting an iced coffee and a Calippo. At the top of Arthur Road I reached the end of Section 5 at Wimbledon Park Station on the District Line.

Capital Ring Section 5 Photos on Flickr (opens in a new page).

The sensible thing to do here would probably have been to get on a train, so…

Starting Section 6

Section 6 starts outside Wimbledon Park Station and runs for 7.3 miles to Richmond. It seemed like a good idea to do some of that and then find a suitable break point, although none are given in the walking directions. I finished my iced lolly and crossed over the railway, turning right to follow the curve of Home Park Road to reach the entrance to Wimbledon Park. Viewed from the top of the steps inside the entrance the park was a bustle of activity. Tennis (obviously, although The Wimbledon Club is actually the other side of the lake), cricket, a busy kids playground and mass picnicking.

I made my way down the steps and through the park to the lake (via the well-kept loos) and picked my way along the lakeside path trying to avoid the worst of the goose shit. I’ll bet it’s like a skating rink when wet. I reached the end of the path by the lake and realised that I’d missed the right turn by the water-sports centre buildings so did a dog-leg to regain the route alongside the fence around the athletics track. from the corner of the athletics track I cut straight across to exit the park through the large gates into Wimbledon Park Road.

At the bottom of the hill I turned right into Queensmere Road which climbed fairly steeply past very expensive houses and apartment blocks to reach the A219 Parkside. 

Crossing at the lights a bit further to the right I entered Wimbledon Common. After a while the path seemed a little familiar and then I reached Wimbledon Windmill and yes I’ve definitely rambled this way before, in fact I would be retracing my steps for the rest of the walk.

I considered stopping for refreshments at the Windmill Tearoom. It had all the appearance of still operating under COVID restrictions, insisting on everyone ordering at an outside window covered by a sheet of Perspex with a small hole cut in it for contactless payment. The trouble was there was obviously nobody on the other side of the perspex actually taking orders. I have less patience with such nonsense than the two people already queuing so I gave up and moved on. Past the golf club the route turned right downhill along a straight and familiar track to reach the lake, Queensmere, currently all fenced off to prevent people or dogs taking a dip. Turning left up the steep hill I stopped to rest on a tree stump and was passed by a jogger heading up the hill. I say jogger, he wasn’t running any faster than I was walking and looked as if he might need an ambulance by the time he reached the top of the hill.

At the top of the hill I crossed the golf course (which reminded me of walking parts of the London Loop) and wombled on across Wimbledon Common, taking a very short detour to the War Memorial before carrying on along Stag Ride to meet the Beverley Brook by Richardson Evans Memorial Playing Fields. Now this was definitely familiar territory because in 2023 I walked along the Beverley Brook from West Wimbledon to its confluence with the Thames near Putney.

I crossed the Beverley Brook near the pavilion and crossed the next field to emerge from Wimbledon Common onto the busy A3 at Kingston Vale. It was five and twenty to six, still bloody hot, and I’d walked far enough (almost 7 miles as it happened). In case you're wondering no, I didn't see any Wombles.

I waited in the hot sunshine at the Vale Crescent/Robin Hood bus stop for a 265, trying to find shade behind the shelter but not wanting to miss seeing the bus come around the bend. Of course it was running several minutes late. At Shannon Corner I changed to the 131 which took me back to Wimbledon from where I had a train ticket home.

Not before I’d had a beer though. A pint of Guinness in The Hand & Racquet barely touched the sides so I ordered fish and chips which obviously needed another pint to aid the digestion. They were still in extra time when I left to get the train so I didn’t witness the undoubted dejection of the group of Gooners in the pub after the penalty shoot-out which ensured that the UEFA Champions League silverware remained in Paris.

Capital Ring Section 6 photos on Flickr (opens in a new page).

A Trip to Ireland, Epilogue.

A Trip to Ireland, Epilogue.

Summing Up

I enjoyed that. Would I go again? To Ireland yes. To Dublin? Not without a specific reason. I’m glad I went. I feel that I’ve seen what I needed to though. I’d be more likely to take a car across next time (should there be a next time) and explore the south and west of the country. Belfast and the north is another possibility.

The Irish people I met were largely welcoming and friendly. Food was good and the Guinness… well obviously that goes without saying. With the one particular exception it was reasonably priced too.

Getting around, particularly in the Dublin area was dead easy with the Leap Card. The train from Rosslare to Dublin was ridiculously cheap compared to a similar journey in the UK. The ferry experience was far less stressful than I thought it might be. I chose Stena Line partly because of timing but also they were considerably cheaper than Irish Ferries - by almost a third.

On the subject of money

From walking out of my front door to returning to it my spending was as follows:

My hotels cost £837.72

Transport costs (Ferry, Train, and Bus) totalled £261.13

Food and Drink came to £194.90 (no, that wasn't mostly Guinness 😜 )

I make that a grand total of £1293.75

Which looks like a big number (because it is) but of course that’s not all extra expenditure, I’d still have eaten and drunk if I’d been at home and almost certainly travelled by public transport or car too.

I could probably have taken a package holiday on an aeroplane to somewhere stupidly hot with a beach for less. Frankly I’d rather stick pins in my eyes. I’ve done the package holiday thing once, a week on the Algarve in August 2005 - it was her idea not mine. Too bloody hot for me although the place is nice enough. (Actually it's lovely)

The thirty Euros in notes that I brought back from Portugal have now been on a round trip to Ireland as well 😂

And Finally

Having trouble sleeping? Here are 260 photos from my trip for you to look at. 

Either here on Flickr (opens in a new page) or as a slide show below if your viewer supports it.

A Trip to Ireland, Chapter 5.

A Trip to Ireland, Chapter 5.

15th May 2026

With unusual foresight I’d arranged a late (until 1400hrs) checkout from the Beresford Hotel, thereby avoiding having to hang around the city haunting coffee shops or bars while awaiting the time to come to go to my ferry. So I had a lie in. Then I got up, showered, packed my backpack and checked the times of the number 53 bus to Dublin Ferry Port. Several times. Checked the weather forecast for both Dublin and Holyhead. Inconclusive. I went out and got something for lunch and something for later on since I was unsure what if anything would be open after eight in the evening in Holyhead.

About half past one I checked out of the hotel and walked across the road to the Busáras (Bus Station) and checked the departure boards for route 53. It wasn’t there. I checked the timetable again, it definitely said it went from Busáras. Slightly concerned I asked two Bus Éireann guys leaning against the office wall where it departed from. “Ah, that’ll be from outside, go back the way you came in, turn left, left again an’ sure you’ll see the bus stop.” I went out the way I’d come in, turned left, then left again and was relieved to find a bus stop. I was even more relieved after several minutes when “53 Dublin Ferryport” appeared on the upcoming departure display. TFFT. If you are looking for the 53 to the Ferryport although everything online says it departs from “Busáras” the actual stop name seems to be “Beresford Place, Busáras” and it’s at the junction of Beresford Place and Memorial Road. This has been a Public Service Announcement.

I got to use my Visitor Leap card on a bus just once and after half an hour that bus dropped me somewhere in the middle of Dublin Ferryport on a street called Alexandra Road Extension. I headed in what I hoped was the right direction and then spotted a “pedestrians” sign pointing through the barriers around some roadworks which led to the Stena Line Departures shed. I checked in for boarding around 90 minutes before departure, found a comfy seat in the Passenger Lounge and fire up my Kindle. A short while later two uniformed Customs Officers and a drug-sniffing spaniel came round. Fido found one passenger of particular interest so he was taken away, presumably for the full “Moon River” treatment, he then returned to pick up his case and vanished again, returning just in time for boarding. To the obvious relief and some amusement of his travelling partner.

Boarding once again was by bus so by the time the foot passengers were aboard and I got to the Stena Plus lounge (worth the £20 upgrade) those in their own vehicles had snaffled all the best seats, particularly those next to the large portholes. I settled for a comfortable tub chair within easy striking distance of the complementary drinks and snacks and got out my Kindle again. By the time our scheduled departure at 1630 hrs arrived it was apparent that we were already under way, slipping out of Dublin Ferryport and heading east across the Irish Sea. The Stena Plus Lounge was very civilised, helped by having a “no under 8s” policy. Judging by the snoring at least one person found the ambience very restful. A text message alerted me to the fact that my phone had roamed onto the ships ultra-expensive 5G so I connected to the onboard WiFi instead. It wasn’t fast enough to do anything useful but at least prevented the roaming charges. Faster WiFi was available obviously, if you paid for it. I had no need but there were a lot of laptops in use. Not everyone on board was on holiday.

Disaster at Sea! Both of the very fancy hot drink machines started playing up. Thanks to the valiant efforts of the crew in persuading them back into action a mutiny was avoided. Not that the coffee was particularly good - it was still mechanical coffee. Fortunately there was also every flavour of Tango in the fridge. Does Tango prevent scurvy? 😀

Blimey, are we here already? That voyage passed quickly!

Of course there was half an hour’s hanging around in a corridor waiting for a bus to disembark the foot passengers. While we waited some dimwit filled the time giving the third degree to the “drug spaniel’s best friend”. Who was very restrained considering how long the dimwit carried on and on about it. I thought, “you should fucking let it go before you end up with a thick ear” 🙄

Once off the boat I headed directly to the Travelodge - it was the only place available when I made my travel bookings. I say directly but the direct route would have been via the covered footbridge from the station but that appears to be permanently shut. Instead it was up one road, over the railway, back along the other side, and turn 180 degrees again to walk to the hotel. I checked in. I came out again in search of sustenance and walked into the town. Oh Wales! So much lovely scenery, so many grim towns. I popped into a pub which I’ll not name for a swift pint. While I waited to get served one of the “happy” clientele regaled me with, “My you’re tall isn’t it how tall are you but it’s a pint are you taller than me I think he’s taller than me what if I take my hat off?!” Dear oh dear, how come I find them wherever I go? I suspect Ynys Mon has a limited gene pool 😏

I couldn’t face going to the bar again so just had the one and then picked up a Chinese Takeaway on the way back to the hotel. £14.25. They only accepted cash. I couldn’t even offload any of the twenty-year old Euros I’d carried all round Ireland but never needed because everywhere accepted contactless. Fortunately I also had UK cash.

Back in my room I noticed that the unnecessary convector heated had a red flashing LCD display and read “ERROR 20”. The 21st century is overly complicated. I turned it off at the socket outlet. When I turned it back on in the morning it did the same thing. I left it flashing away merrily.

16th May 2026

Leapt out of bed and across the room to turn off the alarm on my phone because it hasn’t occurred to Travelodge that anyone might need a socket next to the bed. Or a bedside table for that matter, only a 6” x 4” x 8” niche. Made a cup of tea, had a shower, and packed. No hair drier but honestly after a week of soft Irish water my hair’s doing whatever it wants anyway 😳

I checked out - well chucked my card over the unoccupied reception counter - and took the zig-zag route back to Holyhead Railway station, this time finding the slight shortcut via the Stena staff car park.

Holyhead Station is split in two. Platform 1 is on the through lines that pass under the closed footbridge. Platforms 2 and 3 are in a long curved train shed and are terminating platforms leading straight into the ferry terminal. Platform 3 has no tracks, a fence along the platform edge and appears to serve only as a pedestrian access to the car park and bus stop outside. A large indoor waiting area links platforms 1 and 2 but is “locked until further notice”, which I think explains the closed footbridge too.

The long curved train shed is obviously designed to accommodate the long and busy “boat trains” of yesteryear. What turned up on this Saturday morning at 0923 was a two coach Class 158 diesel multiple unit.

Around ten or twelve of us boarded at Holyhead. I got a coast side seat at a table by a window. Winning!

By the time we’d stopped at the next two stations the train was full and standing. Several parties were on their way to Chester for a Saturday out out and the beer and Prosecco had been cracked open by 10 a.m. We passed through the station with the longest made-up-for-the-tourists name in the world and picked up even more passengers. People were struggling to board, the train guard could only move from one carriage to the other by getting off and walking down the platform and getting back on. Ticket checks? Not happening. Anyone wanting the toilet better be able to hold it in for an hour. What on earth do Transport for Wales think they’re doing? We arrived at Chester, the train emptied out. Two more carriages were attached and we left for Birmingham. Welcome to Normal Island.🫨

With a bit more space to move I brought out the vegan felafel wrap I’d brought with me from Dublin for lunch. Filled a hole but mostly lacking in flavour. I arrived at Birmingham New Street with plenty of time in hand to catch the 1400 CrossCountry service to Reading. I can’t ride on CrossCountry’s plastic toy Voyager trains in standard class and still have the use of my legs when I reach my destination. Also they’re hellish at the weekend, akin to the Welsh train to Chester. Fortunately I’d bagged a couple of 1st class singles, split at Banbury for a reasonable number of pounds so had a nice solo seat, albeit facing the wrong way, and nice young ladies bringing me complementary tea, pretzels, and cake. Alas no sandwiches at the weekend 😢

We arrived only two minutes late at Reading with half an hour until my train home departed. I arrived home at five o’clock.

Six days, two boats, eleven trains, one bus. One enjoyable adventure and less stressful than I’d feared.

The fridge is empty, better go shopping.

A Trip to Ireland, Chapter 4.

A Trip to Ireland, Chapter 4.

14th May 2026

Thursday dawned and I felt like getting out of the city. The weather forecast wasn’t that great but I decided on a trip to the seaside anyway so took a DART train south from Dublin to Bray. At Grand Canal Dock the station spans the water. This former dockland and gasworks where the Grand Canal joins the Liffey was very run down but has, like the Isle of Dogs in London in the 1980s, been transformed in the 21st century. Now it’s a tech hub, serving as a popular location for multinational technology firms such as Google, Facebook, X-Twitter, LinkedIn, and Airb’n’b as well as technology and consulting behemoth Accenture. I note that before the docks were built the area was associated with lepers. Make your own jokes.

Travelling south out of Dublin there were more blocks of flats and late 20th century buildings than I’d noticed travelling north the day before, though I was on the other side of the train. Just after Merrion the line reached the coast and ran all the way to Dun Laoghaire right beside the water. Through Booterstown the low concrete was separating the track from the water’s edge was continuously graffitied on the track side. That’s a hell of a lot of spray cans, though very little artistic talent displayed. Do better Irish Yoof.

I could see many ships out to sea, all heading north, presumably to Dublin’s docks. Through Dun Laoghaire and still beside the sea the sun came out - somewhat unexpectedly - and I got a view along the sweep of the coast backed by low mountains.

The sun was still out when I alighted at Bray Daly station and walked down the the seafront. It was also incredibly windy! It was a chill wind which meant my coat went back on very quickly as I walked along the promenade. Bray (Bré in Irish) is a proper seaside resort, planned in the 19th century, the railway from Dublin arrived in 1854. Foreign package holidays arrived in the late 20th century resulting in a decline in the towns fortunes but it remains a nice seaside town, not too big and brash. I could still see a queue of ships offshore. “We call that The Strait of Hormuz”, joked the man in the pink and white striped octagonal kiosk where I bought a coffee. We both hoped that the rain that was visible out there in the "Strait" wasn’t heading our way, he’d had to close up the day before due to the weather coming in through the hatches of the kiosk. I sought respite from the wind in a bunker like concrete shelter to drink my coffee.

At the far south end of the prom waves broke on the rocks of Bray Head and there was a brief rain shower. Most of the weather appeared to be staying out to sea and although a mass of dark cloud hovered inland behind the town it soon dried. I decided to follow the cliff top walk up and around Bray Head towards Greystones. So did about three score of noisy school students but they were headed up to the very top of the hill rather than along the cliff walk so soon there was just me. The sun was out, the views were extensive along the well made and mostly tarmac surfaced path and the seabirds plentiful. The Cormorants were sunning themselves on Seagull Rock, presumably clinging on tightly in order not to be carried off by the wind. Below the clifftop the DART trains ran in and out of short tunnels through the cliffs on their way to and from Greystones - just out of Visitor Leap card range alas.

I might have continued all the way to Greystones but after about a mile the path is closed due to significant safety concerns following a number of landslides. There is a big metal gate with warning signs on and many signs and stickers demanding that the route be reopened. There is a big metal fence. There is also a big hole in the fence and an arrow pointing along the very edge of the cliff. Nope, I returned the way I’d come back to Bray. I hope the Bray to Greystones Cliff Walk does get re-opened, from the bit I saw it’s a lovely little trek and ideal with a railway station at each end.

Despite the good surface of the path it was still necessary to watch your step, for many people in Ireland clearing up your dog’s shit doesn’t seem to be a thing. Walking down the hill into Bray I passed three tents on the grass slopes above the town, evidence of the homelessness problem that affects Dublin and the surrounding area. I saw quite a lot of “bin divers” in the city too. The “Emerald Isle” is not isolated from the 21st century social problems of the rest of Europe, including sadly the all too familiar anti-immigrant campaigners 🙁

On a happier note the seaside chips that I had when I got back to the prom at Bray were actual real, fresh-cut not frozen, and absolutely delicious. The gulls stayed away too 😀

Bray had become busier. There were many tongues being spoken because I seemed to have picked a day when foreign school parties had decided it was time to visit Bray. I went to the Spar shop on the seafront to get a bottle of pop, it was a bit chaotic in there, for once I was glad for the self-scan checkouts. In spite of the big black clouds forming in the north I went for a look at the harbour. I got very wet.

I headed back to the railway station. The sun came out. Make your mind up Ireland!

Bray Daly station has an excellent set of murals along the southbound platform depicting the history of the station. I boarded the northbound DART train. Two score of teenage students boarded the train followed by two teachers. “I counted 42” “I counted 45” “Where are the others?” “No! Get on this coach!” “GET ON THIS COACH!” I got off the train and re-boarded at the other end where it was quieter. Except for the weird god-botherer sodcasting religious sermons from his phone.

I alighted at Sandycove & Glasthule, the southern of Dun Laoghaire’s two stations and walked to the harbour. Much of the seafront, around the Baths and harbour looks newly developed with a lot of clean smooth concrete. Development seems to be ongoing with apparently empty units.

I re-boarded the DART at Dun Laoghaire Mallin station and returned to Dublin Connolly, reaching my hotel room at about a quarter to four. A quarter of an hour later the windows were loudly battered by big hailstones for about five minutes. Ireland had produced all the weather today.

Later I walked down to Madigan’s in Earl Street for a last Irish dinner. On the way heads were turned by the sound of a bottle smashing on the pavement and two (or possibly three) drunks squaring up for a bout of fisticuffs. A crowd began to form as a strange circulating dance commenced, the protagonists throwing throwing punches which didn’t connect while shouting “come on then!” at each other. Peak Dublin and it wasn’t yet 7 p.m. 😂

By nine o’clock I’d headed back to my hotel through the dusk, full of Beef & Guinness Stew (and three pints of Guinness). There I backed up the day’s photos, watched some YouTube, had a cup of tea, and fell soundly asleep.

Despite the squealing trains.

A Trip to Ireland, Chapter 3.

A Trip to Ireland, Chapter 3.

13th May 2026

Following a good night’s sleep, a cup of tea, and a shower I went to the Dublin Bus office in O’Connell Street to buy a 3 day Leap Visitor Card. For €18.00 this would give me unlimited travel for my stay in Dublin, on Dublin City Bus services (operated by Dublin Bus and Go-Ahead Ireland), Luas (tram), DART and Commuter Rail in Zone 1. That’s quite a big area which would allow me to explore some places on the coast as well as the city itself. It also answered my “how am I going to get to the Ferry Port on Friday afternoon?” question.

My first trip was on the Luas Green Line tram across the Liffey to the stop at Trinity.

I made my way through the streets south of the river to Dublin Castle. A large part of Dublin Castle was closed in order to finalize preparations for Ireland’s hosting of the EU Presidency. From what I saw in the bits of the castle campus that were open those preparations involved men with brushes and rollers ensuring that the great and the good who will attend hundreds of conferences, meetings, dinners and cultural events will continue to believe that the whole world smells like new paint 😉

I got a coffee at the Silk Road Cafe in the Chester Beatty Library, which was in the part of the castle grounds which was still open, and drank it on a seat overlooking the Dubh Linn Garden with its sea serpent like patterns cut into the lawn. The lawn is either on or near the site of the original dubh linn or ‘black pool’. Here the Vikings set up a harbour and trading base. It was this pool that gave its name to the city of Dublin.

From the Dubh Linn Garden I walked to the colourful Temple Bar area, had a look around the free exhibition in the Photo Museum of Ireland. I crossed back over the Liffey via Ha’penny Bridge, got a sandwich for lunch and found a bench by the river. Of course that was when the rain showers arrived, accompanied by a chill wind. Trams being weatherproof I rode out to The Point on the Red Line. There were many visitors from the far east on the tram, all of whom seemed to want two seats each. Also a ticket inspector appeared and checked tickets and cards. It’s been a good while since I saw one of those in London. The Dublin North Docklands has been redeveloped with many huge office and apartment blocks but here and there short terraces of Victorian houses remain, dwarfed by the new buildings. The Point tram stop is surrounded by large buildings including a trendy hotel, a cinema, and the 3Arena a large live music venue tacked onto the rear of the facade of an old railway goods depot. An unpleasant vicious wind howled through the canyons between the new blocks. I got the next tram out of there and road back through the city to Heuston. By the time I got there the sun was out and the wind had eased. I paid a visit to Anna Livia, better known as The Floozie in the Jacuzzi, who has been relocated from O’Connell Street to Croppies Memorial Park near the river.

The Floozie’s former place is now occupied by a massive shiny spike which has for some months sported an unofficial Palestinian flag that the authorities can't work out how to get down 😂 Three cheers for whoever is responsible.

I took the opportunity given by the break in the weather to walk back along the Liffey, swapping banks at the bridges, past the Guinness Brewery and ending up again in Temple Bar.

Another torrential and horizontal rain squall had me looking for shelter and I popped into the National Photographic Archive Library in Meeting House Square, drawn by a large sign advertising a Live Aid exhibition. This told the story of the famous 1985 simultaneous charity concerts in London and Philadelphia organized by local (born in Dún Laoghaire) singer Bob Geldof and Scottish musician. The exhibition’s walls full of words and pictures feature the performers involved, and how the whole thing was organized. It really can’t be 46 years ago though. I refuse to believe it 😲

I went into the terrible tourist trap that is the Temple Bar pub really intending to do a Wetherspoon and just use their toilets but my resolve weakened I and stopped for a pint because it was raining outside again. Over £10 for a Guinness? WTAF?!. Should have stuck to plan A. It wasn’t even an exceptional pint and their awning leaked so it was raining “inside” too. At least I’ll know better if there’s a next time. Treat this as a Public Service Announcement.

I left Temple Bar and walked through the wet streets to Tara Street station, passing an unexpected ex-London Routemaster bus on the way. RM811 is now providing afternoon tea trips in Dublin, painted in a blue and yellow livery. At Tara Street I caught the 1600 DART train to Howth. I was struck on the train by the number of religious adverts displayed in the carriages, nearly as many as the gambling ads in the UK. Also lots of ads for flooring companies for some reason. Travelling northwards out of the city I noticed several terraces of single storey back-to-back cottages and then the houses got larger and the areas apparently more affluent.

The village of Howth on a peninsula to the north of Dublin has an active fishing harbour and a large marina for leisure craft. (The “ow” in the name rhymes with the thing you use to shoot arrows.) The West Pier is lined with fish restaurants and fishmongers. I walked to the end of West Pier but not East Pier because it was very long and the weather was looking threatening. I imagine Howth is a very busy place in high summer being easy to get to and with tourist boat trips to the island of Ireland’s Eye just to the north. I was shadowed around Howth by a large group of Spanish school students. Also a very large Greater Black Backed Gull - OK there might have been more than one of those.

Having had a good walk around the harbour I considered stopping for dinner but decided that would end up being a rather late return to Dublin so I returned to the station. I walked to the far end of the platform to avoid the noisy students. I arrived back at Connolly Station at 1820 with aching feet, grabbed a can of beer and a salad from the supermarket and spent the evening horizontal in front of the laptop and the TV - having now worked out that the antenna cable not being plugged in was why there was no signal. I now had 8 channels and the only thing on worth watching was Endeavour. No Eurovision of course (not that I’d have watched it) because Ireland and RTE had boycotted that because of the genociders.

I went to bed with a rough idea of a plan for the next day and a wish that the weather forecast was better.

A Trip to Ireland, Chapter 2.

A Trip to Ireland, Chapter 2.

12th May 2026

I had a wee lie in - it was a very comfortable bed - a cup of tea, a bit of time on the laptop backing up photos, then showered and packed. I checked out of the B&B by dropping my key in the box provided and miming a “thank you and goodbye” to Sue who was busy on a phone call. My train to Dublin wasn’t until 1250 so I had a couple of hours to occupy in Rosslare. First stop Supervalu to pick up some lunch for the trip. The clifftop path above the port where I’d eaten fish and chips the previous evening carries on south east past the RNLI cabin and since it was a sunny morning I decided to follow it and get some exercise before spending two and three-quarter hours sitting on a train.

It was breezy but warm enough that I soon had to take my jacket off. The cliffs tumbling down to the beach along Moran’s Bay were covered in bushes and flowers and populated by small birds. If I squinted a bit I could see Tuskar Rock out in the blue Irish Sea. I’d seen on the map that there was a memorial up here to the 61 victims who perished on 24th March 1968 when Aer Lingus Flight 712, a Vickers Viscount 803 named St. Phelim, crashed into the sea off Tuskar Rock. Despite a long investigation a firm cause for the crash was never established. I wasn’t sure quite sort of memorial to expect but it was so understated that I walked straight past at first without noticing it.

I walked as far as the outdoor gym on a semicircle of grass then turned and walked back towards Rosslare, putting my jacket back on as I was now facing into the chill wind. At the RNLI cabin I turned down the steep steps to the port road and then through the small car park and along the boardwalk to Rosslare harbour Beach. This long sandy strand was populated by just me and a couple of dog walkers. From the beach I made my way to the railway station via the Ferry Terminal building because that appears to have the only public toilets in Rosslare Harbour. I took a seat in the bus stop style shelter on the platform and read my book while waiting for the train. Which was nine minutes late arriving. There is very much not a lot at Rosslare Europort station, one platform, no benches other than the perch in the shelter, no information display, not even a bin bag blowing in the breeze 🙂

On the Iarnród Éireann website where I’d booked my ticket there is a seat picker but it doesn’t give a clue as to which way the train depicted is travelling. Like others before me I took a guess at what would be a forward facing seat on the seaward side of the coach and like others before me I was wrong on both counts. On the plus side my ticket from Rosslare Europort to Dublin Connolly which took over two and a half hours cost only  9.99€ (£8.64). For context a twenty minute ride from my local station to Reading costs between £7.60 and £9.10 depending on the time of day. 

Iarnród Éireann put your name in lights above your reserved seat - not sure how I feel about that - so swapping seats wasn’t really an option, especially as the train filled up as we progressed north and most seats were occupied by the time we left Wexford. The train slowed up considerably passing through the centre of Wexford, running right alongside the quayside and then it followed the River Slaney through Enniscorthy before swinging left to follow the River Bann.

The train did quite a bit of swinging as the line followed most of the bends in the rivers. Nice countryside views though. At Arklow the line turned inland to follow the River Avoca before returning to the coast at Wicklow so I was seeing quite a bit of south east Ireland and by the coast we remained, passing through Greystones, Bray, and Dun Laoghaire to arrive at Dublin Connolly at around ten to four, still nine minutes late. Apparently due to a bridge strike somewhere around Grand Canal Dock station which required a reduced line speed so it wasn't just our train that was delayed. It was only a short walk from Connolly to the Beresford Hotel which would be my home for the next three nights. I checked in and paid my £547.40 which included a late checkout on Friday which I’d forgotten that I’d arranged until the receptionist mentioned it. My room was on the second floor and was large, with a large bathroom containing both a bath and a separate shower. It looked out over a narrow side street called Frenchman’s Lane with Ryan’s bar right opposite and the Dublin Loop Line railway the other side of that at the same elevation as my room. I would get a view of every passing train. I would also know every time that a train passed because the wheels of every train squealed loudly on the curve 😀

Later on I went out for a walk and to get my bearings. In any new city I usually head first to the river so I found my way to the Liffey, walked along Custom House Quay and North Wall Quay for a way and then back into the city along Mayor Street.

It was time to find somewhere to dine. Somewhere not too fancy, where a lone diner wouldn’t be out of place, where good food and beer might be had without arranging a mortgage. By luck I wandered into Madigan’s inNorth Earl Street, an Irish pub with fantastic decor, all polished wood and stained glass and welcoming staff (Gerry and Jackie(sp?)). The food was good too, also the Guinness. Two pints of which and three large sausages with veg and mashed spuds was £30, quite reasonable and the pub was a nice place to spend an hour or two people watching. Even with the "owd fella" at the next table, evidently a regular, doing a fairly good Father Jack impression 😂

After dinner I went for a further explore, down Connolly Street past the famous GPO. However it had turned chilly and I was regretting not wearing a coat so I returned to the hotel via Abbey Street. On the way I popped into Lidl because I fancied some sort of cake. I thought better of it when I saw that the queue for the (self service only 😦) checkouts snaked all the way around the inside of the shop. I pushed my way out through the ‘in’ barrier setting off the alarm because there was no other way out, got a funny look off the security guard, thought sod you pal, and went to Supervalu instead.

Back at the hotel I caught up with YouTube on my laptop, had a cup of tea and a slice of something very sweet and turned in. Despite the fact that the trains were still squealing (fortunately they don’t run all night) I slept rather well.

A Trip to Ireland, Chapter 1.

A Trip to Ireland, Chapter 1.

I have somehow reached my seventh decade without ever visiting the island of Ireland.  I thought I should put that right. I don’t do airline travel so I went by train and boat, meaning I paid a visit to Swansea on the way and a very brief visit to Holyhead on the way back.

10th May 2026

I like to travel as light as I can so at 1100 on a Sunday morning I hefted a 40 litre backpack onto my shoulders and walked to the railway station to catch my first train. This took me to Reading where I changed onto a GWR IET to Swansea. Amazingly both these trains ran on time, quite an achievement for GWR, particularly at the weekend. No one could claim that this was a comfortable ride since the seats on these trains were never designed to be comfortable and are now after some years use quite knackered. I arrived in Swansea at about half past two, too early to check into my hotel so I went for a walk down the High Street to get a coffee and to see what had changed since my last visit in 2019 prior to riding the Heart of Wales railway line to Shrewsbury. I discovered that Castle Square was now a large building site behind hoardings and that Turtle Bay restaurant had closed down so no curried goat for me tonight.

The Grand Hotel is an Art Deco landmark right opposite the railway station so I’d have no trouble getting my train the next morning. It’s also an easy walk to the city centre which would give me something to do that evening. I checked in and was given a nice room on the second floor overlooking the station, despite which it wasn’t noisy.

I settled in, had a cuppa, had a sit down for a while then headed back out for the evening, walking down to the marina and then the beach, along the prom in the evening sunshine, and back into the city centre where I succumbed to the temptations of Taco Bell because it was cheap and easy. Don't @ me.

Once fed I went down to the River Tawe and then back up to the castle and to a nearby bar, Sessions by Mumbles Brewery. Very nice local beers and what’s that you say? Buy one get a second free because it’s still Happy Hour? Oh well, if you insist 😀

Some of Swansea’s finest, who had obviously been on it all day started kicking off. Not sure who upset who but eventually there were five of them all threatening one who they’d decided had upset one of the women and much squaring up and reddening of tattooed necks ensued. A couple of private security people were summoned by radio and the cabaret was curtailed. I finished my free pint and returned to the hotel, on the way passing a tattoo parlour which had a life-sized cardboard cut-out of the actor Warwick Davis inside the doorway and I have no idea why? 

11th May 2026

After a very comfortable night’s sleep I showered, dressed, packed, and checked out with plenty of time to grab some food for the day’s travels before catching the 1104 train to Fishguard Harbour. I had a brief moment of panic entering the station because I couldn’t find my ticket but it had secreted itself inside my wallet when I’d put it in my pocket. Phew!

The station announcer at Swansea that Monday morning seemed to have had too much sugar, peppering his announcements with a variety of funny voices, accents, and inflections. Way too happy for a Monday. The train arrived and I managed to get a seat on the left facing forwards, which would get the best views as we wound our way along the south Pembrokeshire coast before turning north to cross the peninsula to Fishguard. At Fishguard Harbour station the platform is adjacent to the Stena Line terminal, in fact the station is the ferry terminal, no chance of getting lost between train and boat.

I checked in and obtained my “Boarding Card” and “Stena More Members Card”, both actually just flimsy pieces of till-roll paper and took a seat to wait for further instructions. Through the window I could see the boat moored alongside bearing a large three-legged cross with the words “Isle Of Man Steam Packet Company” around it emblazoned on its side. Because Stena Line’s usual vessel was in dock being repaired we would be travelling on a borrowed boat, the somewhat smaller Ben My Chree. (Stena have since sent me an unexpected 20% discount code for any Fishguard-Rosslare or Holyhead-Dublin sailing if I travel before April 27th next year as recompense for not having the usual ship.) 

The only way to get foot passengers aboard was using a minibus to drive us the 100m or so from terminal to ship. Which meant all those who’d driven their own vehicles aboard had got first dibs on the seats while we were still in the terminal. I went up on deck to watch as we left port and for the first time since 2007 I left the UK mainland (if you don’t count the Isle of Wight).

It was breezy but not cold, actually quite pleasant when the sun came out if a little noisy with the exhaust stack adjacent to the public outside deck, so I remained on deck along with quite a few others for the whole crossing. Eventually most of the alarms on the expensive cars below stopped sounding. Except for the big Audi SUV. When I made a brief visit to the heads I discovered that inside the ship was quite as chaotic as I expected and had the weather prevented staying on deck it would have been bloody awful. Three and a bit hours later I got my first sight of Ireland, it was much smaller than I expected:

Oh, but that’s just Tuskar Rock, a ship’s graveyard six nautical miles off the Wexford coast which has 176 shipwrecks listed around it and one Vickers Viscount airliner. The rest of Ireland was appearing off the starboard bow. Another half an hour passed, we arrived in Rosslare Europort and the ship was neatly reversed into a parking spot alongside the seaward jetty ready for us to disembark. 

Which took ages for us foot passengers as once again we waited for shuttle buses. The bus took us on a great loop through the port to Immigration where an Irish Customs lady checked our documents (I’d blown the dust off my passport, not strictly needed because of the UK & Ireland Common Travel Area but I’ve no other photo ID). Then the bus drove all the way back around the port to the terminal building where we were turfed off to make our own way out. I followed the pedestrian signs out of the port, climbed the long steep steps up to the RNLI lookout cabin since it looked like the shortest way and then through the town? village? of Rosslare Harbour to my B&B, Ferryport House. I had a warm welcome from Sue, who pointed out where I’d be able to get food, although I’d already scoped out the local chippy on my way from the port, the facilities of the hotel. She supplied a large bottle of chilled water, explaining that the water in the taps is drinkable but comes from their borehole so I might prefer bottled, handed me my keys and pointed my towards my first floor room. The room was large, the whole place was spotless, the view was of the backs of the semi-detached houses in the next road but who cares for one night, and there was a generous supply of tea, coffee and milk which would put most chain hotels to shame.

Having limited time in Rosslare I had a cuppa and then headed out to explore. First stop Tuskar Takeaway the chippy I’d spotted earlier. I had a Fish Box Meal, fresh fish in batter with homemade tartare dip and mushy peas, chips & drink for €14.95 (£12.95) was good value and delicious. I ate it on a bench in the evening sunshine overlooking the Europort and overlooked by a noisy beady-eyed and ultimately disappointed Black Headed Gull which was perched on top of a lamp post.

I watched Ben My Chree leave harbour and a small sailing fishing boat pass by heading north and then I went in search of what turned out to be a rare commodity in Rosslare Harbour - a litter bin. Having eventually found one and responsibly disposed of my takeaway box I walked down to Rosslare Harbour “town centre”. This is mostly the SuperValu supermarket whose building also contains a cafe/pizzeria, the Post Office, a pharmacy, hairdressers, and a dog grooming parlour. On the other side of the road was a petrol station with a convenience store and “The Dock Boutique Hotel, bar, and eatery”. What there wasn’t was a proper pub. I consulted the map. The Kilrane Inn, in the village of Kilrane 15 minutes walk down the road. Off I went. My first pint of Guinness in Ireland, it had to be done. At €5.80 (£5.02) it would also prove to be my cheapest pint of Guinness in Ireland.

Suitably refreshed I walked back to my B&B as the sun set over County Wexford. I was a little confused on opening the door to my room to find the TV was playing. It hadn’t been when I left so either it was switched on but on a channel that wasn’t broadcasting when I went out or I’d had a visit from a Leprechaun while I was out.☘

I slipped into the largest most comfortable bed in the world and slept like a log.

The next day I’d be in Dublin…