M Piper, Greengrocer

Self, M Piper, and Mrs D's gooseberry jam (June, 2022)

My quest for Mrs Darlington's beetroot chutney has borne fruit, in a sense.

It transpires that my local greengrocer, Michael Piper, purveyor of fine fruit, vegetables, preserves, and conserves, stocks Mrs D's products.

His shop is located at 23, Belmont Road, Strandtown, Belfast.

A dear friend is sending me two jars of Mrs D's excellent beetroot chutney, so today I purchased a jar of the gooseberry jam instead.

A Peculiar Tea

Still recovering from retinal surgery, with a depleting gas bubble in one eye, I decided to cycle down to the railway station and get a train to Botanic, a mere hop, skip, and jump from University Road, Belfast.

The ancient Burberry trench coat was unearthed; the trusty whangee brolly brandished.

When I alighted at Botanic station I had some time to spare, so I wandered into the Oxfam charity book-shop on Botanic Avenue (where the Arts Theatre used to be).

They invariably have a selection of vintage books, if not exactly "antiquarian."

It was approaching five o'clock, so I strode the short distance from Botanic Avenue, along LOWER CRESCENT, and on to University Road.

A Peculiar Tea is almost directly opposite Holohan's restaurant.

I recall the premises fondly as Beatrice Kennedy's, a delightful establishment which offered the most delectable wheaten bread and perhaps Mr McCarthy's signature dish, seared scallops on Clonakilty black pudding. Sublime.

I dined at BK's on my birthday in 2008.

A Peculiar Tea was established by the local and celebrated chef, Gemma Austin.

Its decor and ambiance are different from BK's, and the theme is somewhat akin to Alice in Wonderland.

I had the six-course Tasting Menu last night.

Since it was the occasion of my birthday, the staff very kindly offered me a complimentary drink, so I had a glass of Prosecco, with a juicy raspberry floating on top.

Guinea fowl, bone marrow, jus

The presentation and service were very good indeed, and, given the amount of time that must have been expended in preparing six delicious and quite exquisite courses, all the crockery and cutlery needed, it was good value at £45.

Cod, champagne sauce, capers

Guinea fowl, cod, venison, sorbet, and other delicacies were presented beautifully and with culinary craftsmanship.

I'm sure Aunt Dahlia's chef Anatole, that master of the gastronomic taste-buds, would have approved.

Venison, celeriac, etc

The final course, a minute pudding, was served with a little lighted candle on top; and I was treated to a rendition of Happy Birthday To You by staff and patrons in the dining-room.

County Down Beef

In Northern Ireland, supermarket meat origin labels can be confusing; where precisely the meat is slaughtered, and where it is packed.

I saw this yesterday in a very large supermarket at Knocknagoney, County Down.

With this in mind I think it's best to purchase red meat at one's local butcher.

Recently I visited my butcher, saw a fillet of beef behind the counter, and a good, thick slice was cut for me.

That evening I fried the steak, roasted a few potatoes, fried an onion, and had it with béarnaise sauce.

Needless to say, the steak was really tender and juicy, as you can see in the image.

Something Fishy

The trusty pushbike has been well utilized during this pandemic. You've likely seen it in a few articles I've written.

I purchased it about twenty-two years ago, at Halford's, and it's a fairly sturdy urban kind of bike.

This morning I recalled that Edward Murray of Something Fishy, a fishmonger from Portavogie, has a mobile seafood stall at Comber Road, Dundonald, on Wednesday mornings.

I think they also usually have a stall at St George's Market in Belfast.

This morning, however, I mounted the two-wheeler and cycled from Belmont GHQ to Dundonald, a journey of three miles perhaps.

Enid Bennett, whose husband and sons ran a hardware shop in Comber, used to inquire if a merchant was easy to pay - "are they easy to pay?"

Something Fishy is easy to pay. Just remember to bring cash with you. I was prepared, and I'd brought my wallet with a few banknotes in it.

I fancy breaded cod tonight, so I bought a good piece of that, and a portion of their battered scampi.

The piece of cod was a fiver; the scampi, £2.80.

Portballintrae Visit

Seaport Lodge, September, 2019

Earlier in the week I spent several days in the seaside resort of Portballintrae, County Antrim.

This coastal village, near Bushmills, has always been popular, with its delightful sandy bays, Bushfoot Strand, the little harbour, and its general location on the Causeway Coast.

We used to spend weekends here at the Beach Hotel with friends.

Alas, that hotel was demolished many years ago and has been replaced with modern apartments.

The Bayview Hotel, however, remains; not the original building, which was also demolished ages ago.

I spent two agreeable evenings in the lounge bar of the Bayview, contented with my iPad and headphones.

Catch of the Day at the Bayview Hotel

On the first evening I had a bar meal comprising a blue cheese and beetroot salad, followed by the "Catch of the Day": smoked cod, mashed potato, spinach, surrounded by a creamy sauce.

This food was delicious.

Thereafter I removed to a banquette-style seat near the front door and Reception.

I have acquired a pair of state-of-the-art noise-cancelling headphones, Bluetooth (wireless), which cut out virtually all outside noise except whatever you're listening to on the iPad or other device.

Quite remarkable technology.

The next morning I paid a brief visit to Coleraine, one of my favourite towns.

On the way home, I made a small detour to Bushmills Garden Centre, a few miles outside the village itself.

For some inexplicable reason I've developed an interest in gardening, albeit on a modest scale.

I was on the look-out for a plant that likes dry conditions and the garden centre was promoting Sedums.

I'm apprised that this variety thrives in sunshine and doesn't mind dry conditions, so a spot between two thirsty trees in the border ought to satiate it.

I chose a lovely Sedum Spectabile "Brilliant".

When I purchased it there was a bee eating the nectar, adhering to it like a magnet.

It refused to budge (lest it had discovered the irresistible Belmont bouquet), so some gentle persuasion was required, viz. some of the Belmont blowing.

*

After breakfast one morning I strolled the short distance to Seaport Lodge, once the maritime residence of the Leslies.

Seaport Lodge commands one of the finest prospects in Portballintrae, with its little private harbour.

Unfortunately it has lain derelict for many years, though the owner is finally restoring it as I write.

Seafood Thermidor

The next evening I motored into Portrush, past the celebrated Royal Portrush Golf Club, to the harbour, where I had the Seafood Thermidor at Ramore Wine Bar.

I rather like the Ramore complex, which has several different bars and restaurants.

Just do not expect the conventional type of restaurant where you can reserve a table in advance, order at the table, and await service.

At Ramore wine bar you are shown to a clearly numbered table, peruse the menu, and walk up to the bar counter where they ask for your number, take your order, and you settle the account there and then.

This unconventional system works very well for Ramore and I find it perfectly acceptable.

During my break in Portballintrae the weather was mostly sunny, dry and quite warm, something I took full advantage of.

Perma-tan Belmont.

*

THE French Rooms is a charming restaurant in the centre of Bushmills, just along the street from the Inn.

Their opening hours vary, and at the time of writing dinner is only served on Friday and Saturday evenings; so I was fortunate to get my favourite (and lucky) Table Eight.

The last time I was seated at Table Eight an unknown American couple paid for my meal (unknown to me, because they had paid for it and departed some time before I'd finished my meal).

For this happy reason Mrs Bolton recognized me instantly and greeted my like an old pal.

Perhaps they ought to re-name Table Eight "Lord Belmont's Table".

For dinner I had the goat's cheese, served in a little, tied paper parcel on a wooden platter, with home-made chutney, lemongrass-infused olive oil, and rustic bread.

The main course consisted of sea-bass, garlic cubed fries, and beetroot gratin.

Needless to say, it was all delicious and superb; beautifully presented, too.

After dinner I repaired to the Bushmills Inn, ordered a beverage, and settled down at a small table with the iPad and headphones.

The next morning it was time to pack up, tidy up, and motor back home to the Belmont GHQ.

The Krazi Baker

The Ulster Fry is, to my mind, one of our most celebrated staples, renowned throughout the civilized world and long associated with our Province.

All right, perhaps there is a modicum (!) of hyperbole there, though why not?

We pride ourselves on the hearty Ulster Fry.

The Mad Hatter cafeteria in Enniskillen, County Fermanagh, made a very good one.

My late father did not cook much at all, though, when he did stand over the old stove at my uncle's cottage in the Mourne Mountains, his speciality was the Ulster Fry.

Potato farls, soda farls, eggs, sausages, rashers were all essential ingredients.

Sometimes wild mushrooms were picked from the adjacent fields beside the little whitewashed cottage, which stood at Glassdrumman, close to Spence's River.

My uncle adored the Mourne Mountains; in fact, when he was a young man (he was 18 in 1946)  he cycled from Belfast to the cottage he rented from the Newells at weekends.

We knew the Newells, who lived at their homestead further down the lane, not far from the main road to Annalong.

Jack was a strong character, who bellowed at friends and strangers.

My uncle purchased his own cottage at the other side of Spence's River about 1978.

HAVING been in foreign climes for awhile, I fancy the said Ulster Fry; and who should come to mind?

None other than that celebrated County Down artisan baker himself, Mark Douglas, better known as the Krazi Baker.

The Krazi Baker has a stall at Newtownards market on Saturdays from at least 6am.

Mark told me, however, that they are there, baking those most excellent farls, scones, brioche rolls etc from four-fifteen!

Mark has a terrific website which tells his story to a greater extent than I need to elaborate on.

At the moment Ards market is the nearest place for Belfast customers, though I think he runs occasional stalls at other venues.

Hot Cross Buns

HOW TO COOK PERFECT HOT CROSS BUNS

Do you ever go through phases, where you crave real home-made food? Take the humble chip, for instance.

The triple-cooked chunky version, cooked to the right method, with the correct type of oil, at the appropriate temperature, can be supreme.

Timing matters, too.

I like Hot Cross buns.

Lest you employ a chef, you'll buy these traditional Easter buns from a bakery.

If you are one of those consumers who aims for perfection, however, I can suggest a recipe from the renowned culinary author, Felicity Cloake:-

Makes Sixteen

200ml milk, plus a little more for glazing
3 cardamom pods, bruised
1 cinnamon stick
2 cloves
¼ tsp grated nutmeg
Pinch of saffron
20g fresh yeast
50g golden caster sugar, plus extra to glaze
450g strong white flour
100g butter
½ tsp salt
½ tsp ground ginger
3 eggs
150g currants
50g mixed peel
3 tbsp plain flour

1. Heat 200ml milk gently in a pan along with the cardamom, cinnamon, cloves, nutmeg and saffron until just boiling, and then turn off the heat and leave to infuse for 1 hour. Bring back up to blood temperature and then mix the strained milk with the yeast and 1 tsp sugar.

2. Tip the flour into a large mixing bowl and grate over the butter. Rub in with your fingertips, or in a food mixer, until well mixed, and then add the rest of the sugar and the salt and ginger. Beat together 2 of the eggs.

3. Make a well in the middle, and add the beaten eggs and the yeast mixture. Stir in, adding enough milk to make a soft dough – it shouldn't look at all dry or tough. Knead for 10 minutes until smooth and elastic, then lightly grease another bowl, and put the dough into it. Cover and leave in a warm place until it has doubled in size – this will probably take a couple of hours.


4. Tip it out on to a lightly greased work surface and knead for a minute or so, then flatten it out and scatter over the fruit and peel. Knead again to spread the fruit around evenly, then divide into 16 equal pieces and roll these into bun shapes. Put on lined baking trays and score a cross into the top of each, then cover and put in a warm place to prove until doubled in size.

5. Pre-heat the oven to 200C and beat together the last egg with a little milk. Mix the plain flour with a pinch of salt and enough cold water to make a stiff paste. Paint the top of each bun with egg wash, and then, using a piping bag or teaspoon, draw a thick cross on the top of each. Put into the oven and bake for about 25 minutes until golden.

6. Meanwhile, mix 1 tbsp caster sugar with 1 tbsp boiling water. When the buns come out of the oven, brush them with this before transferring to a rack to cool. Eat with lots of butter.

Are hot cross buns what they used to be, or has our year-round greed taken the shine off them? Which modern additions do you approve of (please, no cranberries, we're British!), and what do you eat them with? (To start the ball rolling, I'll offer black pepper Boursin – an inspired topping idea from my friend Sharon.)

The Favourite Night

Strand Cinema, Holywood Road, ca 1936

When I was a lad in short trousers I was taken to the cinema quite often.

The Astoria and The Strand were both owned by the same company in the 1970s, ABC Cinemas, and there were matinees and a cinema club for schoolchildren.

They even gave us little metal enamel badges.

The Astoria was at Ballyhackamore, though it was demolished in 1974 to make way for a new telephone exchange.

The Strand Cinema, built in 1935, survives.

Strandtown House, the residence of Gustavus Heyn (1803-75), owner of the Belfast Steamship Company, used to stand here.

Strandtown House: Gate Lodge

Strandtown House and its grounds comprised two acres.

I had the customary coffee and bun with my aunt yesterday morning in Bell's and declared my intention to go and see The Favourite, a historical period drama about the rivalry between to female courtiers in the service of Queen Anne.

Timothy Belmont invariably adheres to his word. Ask any of his chums.

Accordingly, I left Belmont GHQ and made a beeline for Strandtown, viz. Belmont Road, close to the Strand cinema and Bennett's bistro, my venues.

It's quite a long time since I've darkened Bennett's threshold.

The staff showed me to a small table, where I made my self comfortable and perused the menu.

The Belfast Fish Pie caught the old eye, so I ordered that with a pot of tea.

They have a long list of desserts written in chalk on a blackboard, so I swivelled round, inwardly digested the list, and fancied the apple crumble.

Comfort food!

the grub was all tip-top, with a home-made appearance and taste.

The fish pie was rich, cheesy, creamy, with abundant and various chunks of fish, accompanied by a small sort of ramekin of mixed vegetables.

Plentiful big pieces of apple proliferated the buttery, golden crumble.

Full marks.

Crossing the road at Gelston's Corner, I entered the Strand cinema.

I don't think it has changed massively since I was last there, either, so I purchased a ticket and waited until the film began at eight-thirty.

The relatively recent business park beside the cinema used to be its car-park.

The Favourite is doubtless a good and authentic historical film, with all those period costumes, palatial country houses (Hatfield House was used, as was Hampton Court Palace).

Queen Anne, Abigail, Lady Masham, and Sarah, Duchess of Marlborough

Perhaps I am being somewhat pedantic, though Sarah, Duchess of Marlborough was constantly referred to as "Lady Marlborough".

Sarah was Countess of Marlborough, however, until 1702, when her husband was advanced to a dukedom.

Non-royal duchesses are, to my knowledge, styled "Your Grace" or simply "Duchess".

I suppose we cannot be too critical that merely one split infinitive was used, though whether educated noble families split their infinitives three centuries ago is debatable.

All in all a very good film, amusing at times.

It's unfair to compare it with The Green Book, a movie I saw recently, though I enjoyed the latter more.

Mrs D's Chutney

What a fine February day it is.

The lark's on the wing; the snail's on the thorn, as Jeeves once remarked.

I happened to be collecting an item in Boot's local pharmacy and, striding past Warwick the butcher, I glanced into the window display.

Mrs Darlington's jams and chutneys were on display and I can tell you that the beetroot chutney is very good indeed.

So good that I bagged the raspberry jam and another jar of chutney.

Mr Warwick greeted me with a "ahh, Lord Belmont".

Now I'm wondering how many of the local populace recognize me?

Nu Delhi, Belfast

Great Victoria Street, Belfast, is a major part of Belfast's Golden Mile.

Certainly during the Troubles this street was buzzing, despite the bombing campaign which destroyed many businesses and livelihoods.

From the Grand Opera House, the Europa Hotel, the Crown Liquor Saloon, and numerous other establishments towards Shaftesbury Square and Bradbury Place, it remains one of the liveliest parts of town.

All of the said establishments are still there and continue to thrive.

I called for the old school pal, NCS, and we motored in a westerly direction into town, where I managed to find a tight space at the Great Victoria Street end of Wellwood Street.

It was cold, windy and wet.

Our venue, the Nu Delhi Indian restaurant, is on the first floor of a building beside Bruce Street and Hope Street.

It used to be the premises of the house-furnishers, Donaldson & Little.

It's probably necessary to reserve a table in this large restaurant at weekends.

We had booked a table and the place was practically full when we arrived at seven o'clock.

The staff gave a good impression on greeting and tending to us during the meal.

As far as Indian cuisine goes I usually opt for something on the mild side, so I ordered Desi Chicken Masala with pilau rice, accompanied by peshwari naan bread and a glass of lassi.

NCS had a popular lamb dish, I think, and we shared the bread with poppadoms and three types of chutney.

While NCS was getting some fresh air at the open balcony, I had a look round and my eyes focused on the ceiling, one of those non-ceilings, bare, un-plastered, concrete, loose cables, vents.

My meal was good, mild-to-medium hot, I should say.

The bread was light and freshly made, I'm sure.

My meal cost about £20 (we went Dutch).

Thereafter we hopped on to the lift, emerged at Great Victoria Street, and walked to Robinson's Bar or, rather, Fibber Magee's.

I don't know whether you've ever frequented this bar, though it's at the rear end of Robinson's, a former alley called Keyland's Place.

Keyland's Place was largely demolished to make way for Blackstaff Square, the most direct means of entering Fibber Magee's.

It's a kind of spit-and sawdust theme bar, a Victorian general merchant's, probably conceived twenty-five years ago by the proprietor of Robinson's.

Robinson's Bar was fire-bombed and demolished in 1991, so Fibber Magee's, one of those renowned faux Irish pubs, dates from that era.

The atmosphere or ambiance is very lively indeed with merry revellers, a few of whom were raucous; singing, dancing to a live duo of singing guitarists, bare wooden floorboards, wooden stools, wooden benches, dimly lit.

It has a large, unlit fire-place.

It's undeniably popular and the musicians were playing their own version of well-known pop songs.

I was sitting beside a Yorkshire plumber (who lived near Guiseley), who, with his wife, was staying with friends in Bangor, County Down.

He'd certainly had his fair share of stout or whatever, and kept repeating himself on topics like Retirement, Skiing etc.

I'd had enough of it all by ten o'clock, and bade farewell to NCS, who decided to remain for the duration.

The Tarte Tatin

I have posted this picture of my sumptuous pudding at The French Rooms for a loyal reader, who inquired about whether I'd had dessert at The French Rooms.

Here it is in all its splendour.

The French Rooms

I've been spending a few days at Portballintrae, County Antrim, on Ulster's north coast.

The weather has really been very good, mostly sunny in fact.

I explored Ramore Head and the headland at Portstewart, places I was unfamiliar with.

On Friday evening I dined at The French Rooms, a restaurant, café and artisan shop in Bushmills.

Bushmills, probably my favourite village in County Antrim, is a mere hop, skip and jump from Portballintrae.

It usually suits me to dine early, so I had reserved a table for six-thirty.

On arrival I was shown to a lovely little table, directly opposite the bar counter, which happened to have particularly comfortable leather chairs.

In fact I quipped to the waiter at the time that they were reminiscent of some ancient Bentley or Daimler.

The staff here are engaging and courteous.

Having perused the excellent menus, I opted for Spicy Prawn Pot on Spicy Leaves as a starter.

The trusty nose-bag was donned and I tucked in to a dainty little pot of prawns, dressed in a kind of seafood sauce.

I had motored in to the village, so simply had iced water with the meal.

After a short interval my main course arrived, viz. Cajun French Sea Bass, oven-baked and drizzled with a dill-infused rapeseed oil dressing.

I also had creamed purée potatoes and roast beetroot and cherry tomatoes with it.

The sea bass was delicate, moist, mild, boneless, and complemented my vegetables famously.

I seldom indulge in three courses; the fine list of puddings, however, seduced me, as it were.

Tarte Tatin, the traditional Gallic apple dessert, with toffee sauce and fresh whipped cream, proved to be irresistible.

The thinly-sliced apples almost literally melted in the Belmont mouth.

The layer of pastry underneath was barely discernible, though complemented it perfectly.

During the course of my dinner I chatted with the waiter, recounting tales of The Ugly Ducking in Corralejo, Canary Islands, which was so outstanding and popular that it had to turn away most passers-by.

Another restaurant across the street gained the extra business.

This was the case with The French Rooms last night, so it is advisable to book ahead for dinner.

I had the iPad and headphones with me, the plan being to settle self in the Bushmills Inn a few doors up, so I approached the counter to settle my bill.

To my utter astonishment the staff apprised me that my bill had been paid for by an American couple.

They had been seated at a table twenty or thirty feet away, though I never caught their eyes or even encountered them.

I still have no idea who they were or where they were staying.

This was an opportunity for another good turn, so I gave the staff a good tip instead.

I don't think I've enjoyed myself so much at a restaurant for years.

Best Veggie Bangers

For the benefit of those of you who don't follow me regularly, I happened to be digging and shovelling at a little wood beside Greyabbey, County Down, during the week.

This wood is owned by the National Trust.

I was chatting with a fellow volunteer about a favourite topic, viz. food, and he apprised me of a certain brand of vegetarian sausages.

Geoff's wife and daughter are both vegetarian, though he is not.

However, he recommended Tesco Meat-Free Lincolnshire-style Sausages.

They are in the freezer section and are sold in packs of six.

Dear readers, I am not vegetarian.

I had a home-made rump steak burger several days ago.

However, I am not averse to trying healthy alternatives to pork sausages.

Accordingly, I purchased a packet of the said sausages.

I fried them gently in butter, fried a finely-chopped red onion, and boiled a few potatoes.

I had these veggie sausages with onion mash, tomato, and my home-made coleslaw.

I will understand if some of you are sceptical when I tell you that these veggie sausages are as close in texture and flavour to the real thing.

It is true, though.

I have consumed Quorn sausages, and the Tesco Lincolnshire-style ones are considerably better.

I am convinced that I could fool a few pals if I presented these bangers to them in a blind tasting.

In conclusion, readers, you must try them for yourselves and please do let me know what you think.

Madame Valerie

I spent some time in central Belfast this morning.

I had hoped to find more heraldic information about the Chearnleys of Salterbridge, though my search in the library proved to be fruitless.

A couple of vintage advertisements in an early 20th century Burke's amused me.

Even the apostrophe is missing on Burberry's name (the founder was a certain Thomas Burberry), so this poor grammatical habit began many decades ago.

I don't suppose too many readers shall recall Hooper & Co of 54, St James's Street.

I did, however, nip into Mark and Spencer's Donegall Place store and made a beeline for the food hall.

On the way home, I passed the new Patisserie Valerie café, located opposite City Hall, at Donegall Square West, where their display of hand-made cakes proved to be irresistible.

I fancied the Mixed Berry Tart.

Incidentally, Patisserie Valerie was established in 1926 by Madame Valerie; and her first café was situated at Frith Street, London.

Tastes of British Isles?

I cycled into central Belfast this morning in order to get some groceries in Marks and Spencer's Donegall Place store.

The food hall is in the basement and has extended considerably since the early 1970s, when M&S opened.

Indeed, Marks and Spencer are to be complimented for their loyalty to the Province throughout the worst years of The Troubles.

There's a handy separate entrance for the food hall at Donegall Place.

I happened to be browsing at the Pies aisle when I spotted several items with a little logo emblazoned Tastes of the British Isles.

We have the English Rose; the Scottish Thistle; and the Welsh Daffodil.

However, Northern Ireland and its shamrock or flax-plant is excluded.

As one of my friends has pointed out to me, the problem could be that these products are also for sale in the Irish Republic alongside those labelled as "Tastes of Ireland", aimed at an audience there which includes products produced in Northern Ireland.

My friend remarked that their advertising team really ought to have thought this one through, as obviously the island of Ireland is, geographically, part of the British Isles.

This was poorly done from a sensitivity perspective and very silly on their part.

It would be fitting for Marks and Spencer to issue an apology to the people of Northern Ireland.

OC Dinner

Last night I attended the Old Campbellians' annual dinner at the College.

Campbell College stands in about seventy acres, I imagine, off Belmont Road, Belfast.

My old pal Dangerfield (!) called me earlier in the day and offered to collect me.

A lively fire was blazing in the vestibule, where we met the President of the society, Bill McKelvey.

Having relieved myself of the overcoat, we made a beeline for the makeshift bar which was located in the central hall.

I rather enjoy these reunions, seeing old, familiar faces again.

I had a good chin-wag with Richard Sholdis, whose family once lived in the Mourne Mountains beside Spence's River.

I reminisced about my uncle's cottage, the well in the moor behind it, how we obtained water with a metal pail; and when the Sholdises arrived, how they let us use their outside tap for fresh water.

The good old days!

I was pally with his younger brother, David.

Eventually we all trooped in to the dining-hall, a large chamber with a lofty, vaulted ceiling.

Needless to say, the grub was good; the company, convivial.

Our guest speaker was Sir Ronnie Flanagan, GBE, QPM, Chief Constable of the Royal Ulster Constabulary from 1996 until its demise in 2001.

I met Sir Ronnie earlier in the evening and recounted an anecdote about Sir John Hermon, OBE, QPM, a predecessor of his in the RUC.

As a matter of fact, as a Knight Grand Cross of the Order of the British Empire (GBE), Sir Ronnie is the third most highly decorated person in Northern Ireland, afte the Duke of Abercorn, KG, and the Right Rev the Lord Eames, OM.