Kat in the North

“Rest is a tonic”. That’s how our Airbnb host summed up our second (and certainly not the last!) stay on a family run working farm in Northern Ireland, where we had at our disposal an entire bungalow with two bedrooms, three beds, a living room with a smart TV and super comfy sofas, a fully equipped kitchen and, most importantly, a proper outdoor hot tub (not one of those cheap, inflatable things from ASDA) – with unlimited access. I have been trying to find a similar place in the North West England and I can mostly see sad excuses for a jacuzzi that automatically switch of at midnight, or are limited to 3 hours a day. Sure, electricity is expensive these days but so is £200/day for a shed in someone’s back garden. Is it any wonder that UK holiday bookings are down?

“Our” Airbnb is an hour’s drive from Belfast and represents fantastic value for money. Have I mentioned unlimited views (and sounds) of sheep, cows, chickens (including free range eggs) and an excitable but very friendly border collie called Sally ? Needless to say, early May Bank Holiday 2025 is already booked and this time I am going there for an additional night, most likely flying from Manchester on Thursday after work, and coming back to Liverpool on BH Monday.

We stuck to a very simple plan: first half of a day was dedicated to exploring local area, followed by a few hours in a jacuzzi, then a movie break and another hot tub session until 11 pm or so. Carrickfergus was our choice for Sunday trip. The town itself was a bit depressing, although we found a friendly bar and some stunning murals. The main attraction was the castle of course: I admit that the stories I heard from the tour guide could out compete Game of Thrones: John de Courcy and his exploits, sieges that led defendants to eating virtually every living creature within castle walls including rats…until they caught eight enemy soldiers and ate them too. Those were the days !

As were were strolling the streets of Carrickfergus (“the rock of Fergus”), admiring the murals, I wondered if this town is divided like Londonderry and indeed, it has a Scottish and an Irish part.

We found refuge in Ownies where I had a tastiest pint of Guinness EVER. Guinness doesn’t like being transported and it never tastes just as good outside of Ireland. As I was in exceptionally good mood, I even posed with a pillory and then fell on my knees in castle’s chapel. Crime, punishment and atonement…

Drizzly Saturday weather didn’t spoil our trip to National Trust Mount Stewart. We didn’t spend long in exquisite gardens, but we took a really good tour of the house, where in each room a volunteer would entertain us with stories of past and present inhabitants, the Scottish Stewart family. Current heirs still live there for half a year, and spend another half in Venice. We left the place very impressed; unlike some historical houses Mount Stewart was packed full of splendid furniture and art. My friend has since done some research and it turned out that the 7th Marquess of Londonderry was involved in secret talks with the Nazis, apparently out of fear of fast spreading communism. I am not shocked; I remember an old article in The Guardian which claimed that British aristocracy were, before the war, pretty fond of Mr Hitler for precisely same reasons: they were mortified of what would happen to them if Britain were to turn into a communist state.

Politics aside (none of it, or Stewart family members involvement in Ireland’s fate, was mentioned by the lovely volunteers who probably wanted to avoid difficult subjects…), this was one hell of a fine house and certainly very well spent £14.

I keep promising myself that I will, eventually, spend a day or two in Belfast. Internet is full of stories of how people fly to Europe for day and have a whale of a time for less than a return train fare from Manchester to London. Indeed, it would only cost me around £50 to fly to Belfast in the morning, only to return, say 10 hours later. And, if I could combine it with a day in Dublin, all the better!