For those who don't know, Portballintrae is very close to Bushmills, a larger village, celebrated for its whiskey distillery.
Today, after breakfast, I motored along the coast to Portbradden, a spectacular old cluster of fishermen's cottages at the bottom of a cliff.
There is a National Trust holiday cottage here; and my acquaintance Con Auld was in residence at his charming cottage, decorated and beautified in his inimitable style.
I brought Con an apple pie, though I was a bit early for him. I might call again some afternoon.
Thence I drove further along the coast, to Ballintoy harbour, another spectacular place, renowned nowadays as a Game Of Thrones setting.
The little tea-room and cafeteria, Roark's Kitchen, was open; and I noticed that fresh chowder and wheaten bread was on the menu for lunch.
Two well-coiffured elderly ladies were seated outside, apparently "people-watching"; because, as I passed, I overheard one of them - a woman of some corpulence - make a remark about the "scallywag wearing skinny jeans".
The irony of it.
On my way back to Portballintrae I stopped at the whitewashed little Ballintoy Parish Church, where I took the opportunity of photographing several headstones in the adjoining graveyard.
The bridge over to the old castle originally had a drawbridge, though this was later replaced with an arched bridge.
I ambled across the main road to the ruinous and roofless St Cuthbert's church, which presumably was once used for divine worship by family or servants at Dunluce Castle.
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