Castle Archdale Memories

We spent many happy occasions at Castle Archdale Country Park on the shores of lower Lough Erne in County Fermanagh.

My first visit must have been in the late 1960s, and we kept returning during the seventies and eighties.

I should begin by saying that Castle Archdale was the seat of the Archdale family, of whom the ARCHDALE BARONETS  were a scion.

In 1862, Castle Archdale was one of the largest estates in County Fermanagh, comprising 27,410 acres.

I think some members of the family still lived on the estate till the sixties, before selling it to the Northern Ireland Government for use as a country park and caravan site.

Interestingly, Castle Archdale once had its own private railway halt, near the main entrance to the demesne, between Enniskillen and Irvinestown.

The manor house, located on a hill above the lough, was a noble edifice built in 1773 to replace the old castle some distance away.

It had three storeys over a basement; a six-bay entrance front; a doorway with Ionic pilasters; and a three-bay side elevation.

The manor house was requisitioned by the Royal Air Force during the 2nd World War.

It was known as RAF Castle Archdale from 1941-1957; ruinous by 1959; and finally demolished in 1970.

I imagine the Archdales never returned to their old home after it had been requisitioned by the RAF.

Here is a most interesting link with photographs of it as a RAF Station.

Incidentally, the Northern Ireland department of Agriculture forestry service had a habit of demolishing country houses on estates they acquired, viz. Riversdale, Castle Archdale, Belvoir and Tollymore, to name but a few.

The foundations of the manor house remain; they've been tidied up to form part of a feature along with the courtyard and stable yard behind.

I vaguely remember seeing what remained of the old house in the late sixties, when I was a boy: There were two large, green water-tanks elevated above the house which could be seen miles away on the lough - a good land-mark to aim for.

Staying at Castle Archdale was a wonderful experience for me.

Elements of the flying-boat base still remained: concrete platforms, steel shackles and a refuelling jetty complete with an old fuel pump!

We used to keep our boat there, motoring out to the islands of Lough Erne on fine, sunny days when the lough was tranquil and peaceful.

We often visited White Island or Crevinishaughy Island, which I loved with its old derelict lodge and cottage.

Lusty Beg Island, where my father and I met Charles FitzGerald, the columnist, and watched him having a spat with somebody about the speed of their boat on the lough, broadening the argument out to a frank exchange of views about local politics!

He  had invited us on to his boat for a drink earlier.

The swell from the arrival of the other boat doubtless caused the argument, along with the subsequent spillage of red wine!

At that time the prominent Northern Ireland politician Bill Craig owned Gaffer Island and his boat was frequently tied up at the island's jetty.

Either the Union Jack or the Red Ensign flew from the jetty when he was present.

The Craigs had a static caravan on the little island and there were rumours that he had been warned not to build a permanent home there.

I cannot validate the truth of this claim; though perhaps the truth was more banal and he couldn't get planning permission.

We often noticed Bill Craig seated in the lounge bar of the old Manor House hotel, quietly reading his newspaper with a drink and minding his own business.

His boat was called Gaffer Goose or Gaffer Duck.

We had a sort of circuit of hotels and restaurants which we frequented in those days: the Manor House Hotel at Killadeas; the Lough Erne Hotel in Kesh; the Encore Steakhouse, Ballinamallard; and the Hollander in Irvinestown.

The Manor House Hotel was a small, country house hotel then.

We probably went there more often because it was quite close to Castle Archdale.

The proprietor was, I think, Raymond Noble and I have memories of him wearing a naval sweater and taking us down to the games-room in the basement for a spot of snooker.

He was follicly challenged!

Needless to say, I preferred the hotel in its original state compared to now.

There was one very spacious lounge bar, another large dining-room and a residents' lounge.

These were the main rooms on the ground floor.

The Hollander in Irvinestown was another firm favourite: It had a cosy ambiance and the walls were adorned with old black-and-white pictures of flying boats on Lough Erne.

The food was good there, too, a speciality being duck served in Chef's own inimitable way.

Jim Holland ran the bar; his son was the chef; and his wife managed the kitchen.

There was an establishment in the nearest village, Lisnarick, called the Golden Pheasant I think; for some reason we didn't visit it often.

I seem to remember reading the Newsletter newspaper in the car with my father at Lisnarick; and there was an article about the then Lord Grosvenor being involved in a light plane incident while giving his friend, LORD BELMORE, a lift.

The 6TH DUKE OF WESTMINSTER was called Gerald, Earl Grosvenor, in those days.

His parents, the 5th Duke and Duchess, lived at Ely Lodge Estate.

He'd have used the local airfield, St Angelo's, near Enniskillen.

In Victorian times the Marquesses of Ely were the largest landowners in County Fermanagh; and the Archdales were not far behind them.

Of course we have revisited Castle Archdale on innumerable occasions since then.

I last stayed there, up at the courtyard, in about 2004 for a few days.

I invariably pay Castle Archdale a visit every time I'm in the county.

First published in April, 2009.

Pottinger Memorial

Armorial Bearings of Sir Henry Pottinger at St George's Church, Belfast

St George's Church, High Street, Belfast, is directly opposite the Merchant Hotel.

Prior to checking out of the hotel in July, 2011, I paid this elegant Georgian church a visit.

Click to Enlarge

There is a memorial plaque on the wall to Lieutenant-General the Right Honourable SIR HENRY POTTINGER Bt GCB, the first Governor of Hong Kong.

The supporters in Sir Henry's coat-of-arms are a mandarin holding a scroll in his right hand; and a Scinde soldier.

Sir Henry was born on the 25th December, 1789, at the family residence of Mount Pottinger, Ballymacarrett, County Down.

Henry and his two brothers attended Belfast Royal Academy in Academy Street, off Donegall Street, Belfast.

He left, however, at the age of thirteen, when Lord Castlereagh obtained for him a cadetship in the East India Company.

Henry Pottinger rapidly learned the principal languages of East Asia and gained a reputation as an exceptionally experienced soldier and traveller.

Consequently he was rapidly promoted and, in 1840, Lord Palmerston, then Foreign Secretary, appointed him Envoy and Plenipotentiary to the Emperor of China.

Following the Chinese defeat by British forces in the first opium war, Pottinger, in 1842, obliged the Emperor to sign the Treaty of Nanking, in which Hong Kong was ceded to the United Kingdom.

Pottinger became its first governor.

After serving in other colonial posts, Pottinger, his health declining, decided to return to the UK, but he died in Malta in 1856 and was buried in Valetta.

Despite his remarkable achievements, Pottinger was never really accepted by the establishment.

Despite being granted a baronetcy in 1839 (seemingly a hereditary peerage had been considered), his County Down accent was said to have been mocked by some aristocratic English politicians, and such financial rewards as he received were grudgingly conceded.

It was for this reason that, after his death, his brother William had a plaque erected in St George’s Church, Belfast, on which he bitterly lamented the ungracious treatment of Henry, which he attributed to “Hostile Influence” in governing circles.

The marble memorial in the church reads: 

ON CONCLUDING HIS SUCCESSFUL TREATY WITH CHINA,

IN THE YEAR 1842,

HE WAS DESTINED FOR THE PEERAGE

BY HER GRACIOUS MAJESTY QUEEN VICTORIA THE FIRST,

BUT LOST THIS HIGH DISTINCTION THROUGH THE SAME HOSTILE INFLUENCE

WHICH WAS EXERTED IN VAIN TO PREVENT PARLIAMENT REWARDING

HIS EMINENT SERVICES TO THE STATE

The Mitred Earl

In February, 2012, I bought two used books at the Causeway Book Shop in the village of Bushmills, County Antrim.

Sadly, that former Aladdin's cave of historic reading material, glassware, pottery etc has since closed down.

One of the books was The Mitred Earl by Brian Fothergill, a fascinating history of Frederick Augustus Hervey, 4th Earl of Bristol and Bishop of Derry, often simply known as the "Earl Bishop."

The Earl-Bishop's main residence in Ulster was Downhill House, near Castlerock, County Londonderry.

The book is a National Trust Classic published by Faber and Faber.

It's worth every penny if you can bag it from Ebay, a charity or second-hand book shop.

Watermill Restaurant

Watermill Lodge

It is always a true pleasure to visit County Fermanagh.

I was there for four days several years ago.

The main road from Belfast to Enniskillen is so good now that one can drive for a good part of the way at 70mph; though the Augher-Clogher-Fivemiletown section is at 30mph through the villages.

I stayed in Lisnaskea, the county's second town, I gather.

Belle Isle, the Duke of Abercorn's beautiful County Fermanagh estate and island,  isn't far from Lisnaskea, so I motored over to have a look around and chatted with the staff in the visitor office.

I usually visit the Fermanagh National Trust properties so, having been invited to a private dinner at Crom estate on Wednesday evening, I revisited Crom the next day for a good walk to the old castle, the walled garden on Inisherk Island, and through sections of woodland.

I also visited Florence Court on Wednesday; and Castle Coole, a National Trust property and seat of the Earl of Belmore, many of whose paintings are on display in the mansion house.

Lord and Lady Belmore today live at the Garden House on the estate and their elder son John, Viscount Corry, keeps one of the wings at Castle Coole.

As a matter of interest I counted 28 chimneys on the main block and 14 on Lord Corry's wing.

A highlight of my trip to County Fermanagh was dinner at the Watermill Restaurant at Kilmore Lough, about two miles south-west of Lisnaskea.

Kilmore Lough is navigable from Upper Lough Erne and, indeed, there were lots of cruisers and boats at the quay.

Watermill Lodge is one of the most charming places, with a thatched roof, little ponds, herb gardens, streams, rockeries and more.

Pascal Brissaud's attention to detail is remarkable.

Even the lavatories have curving mosaic tiles and stone spouts, skin to little streams, from which water flows into the hand basins.

Large bellows table

The Lodge is filled with character; the staff, smartly turned out, courteous, charming, diligent.

I sat at a table near the bar.

I perused the menu at length and chose prawn cocktail as a starter; not a common prawn cocktail, though, this one was served in a shell with juicy prawns.

As you'd expect, fresh breads were presented in a basked with hand-carved pats of butter.

The wine menu, by the way, has one of the finest selections in Northern Ireland, including several costing over £2,200 a bottle.

There is, should one require it, a helipad in the grounds (!).

For my main course I had the duck, served with creamed potato, sauce and a garnish (putting it simply).

I ordered a dish of mixed vegetables as well.

My pudding was a Pascal Special: dainty, little profiteroles.

I do not pretend to any kind of restaurant critic, though I thoroughly enjoyed my meal and of course the extraordinary location and ambiance of this restaurant and guest-house.

I hope to base myself here the next time.

Shelter for Turnstones

When I was on holiday recently I spent the day on a little beach near the village of El Cotillo, on the island of Fuerteventura, Canary Islands.

Fuerteventura is renowned for its strong winds, though in my experience this can range from a gentle breeze to very strong, including what amounts to sand-storms on some of the island's beautiful beaches.

Many regular visitors to these beaches bring wind shelters with them.

I have one now myself, called the Quechua Arpenez 0.

This small wind-breaker measures almost three and a half feet in height, weighs two and a quarter pounds (about one kilogram in continental weight).

The bag containing it measures fifteen inches by three and a half inches (38cm x 9cm).

If you're taking hand luggage with you on the flight this bag shall fit easily into your baggage.

DAILY avian visitors to Cotillo Beach are the most captivating little birds, Turnstones, which forage along the beach and rocks for food.

Sometimes they are heard before they are seen because their call is quite distinctive.

I had some bread with me, which they seemed to appreciate, though apparently their preferred foods are insects and molluscs.

I have never seen turnstones literally turning stones over with their beaks in search of food.

Are there any in Northern Ireland?

Barcelona Visit

Palacio Moja in La Rambla

Barcelona, Spain's second city, is one of those places you hear a lot about though have never visited.

A friend of mine suggested that we pay it a visit for three or four days before he started a new job.

Catalonia, an autonomous province of Spain, is hot at this time of the year, so we both travelled lightly (I wore the usual navy blazer, light blue shirt, a pair of linen shorts etc).

I think I made a mistake in wearing the suede Chukka boots, because miles of constant walking chafed part of a small toe.

These shoes are normally comfortable (I wear them all the time), with their Dainite soles.

Despite wearing ankle socks I fitted a plaster to the toe and this did the trick; though I tended to wear my very comfortable espadrilles from then on.

Can any readers recommend traditional, light walking shoes (excepting trainers, flip-flops, sandals etc)?

Barcelona is served well by pubic transport: we tended to use the Metro underground service which is not dissimilar to the Tube in London.

A highlight of the trip was intended to be a visit to the Sagrada Familia Cathedral, though we were to be disappointed because it was fully booked up for days (if not weeks) in advance.

Instead we hopped on to one of those open-top double-decker sightseeing buses, which proved to be an enjoyable experience.

This bus passed the Barça football stadium, an ancient convent in the hills, Gaudí's house, and many more "must-see" places.

Roof of Gaudí's House

The Regent Street or Bond Street of Barcelona is Passeig de Gràcia, where I stopped twice for refreshments at a pavement café.

Gaudí's House

Antoni Gaudí's house is quite fabulous, notably the scaly colourful roof.

The famous La Rambla street is in the city centre, off Catalunya Square.

It has a wonderful market which sells fresh seafood, cheeses, fruit etc.

On Wednesday I lunched at the Marquess of Comillas's palace in La Rambla, in a manner of speaking (!).

Main Staircase

The Palacio Moja now contains government departments, a tourist information centre and a cafeteria on the ground floor.

I had a nutritious dressed salad comprising abundant lettuce leaves, sliced apple, walnut, and crumbled stilton cheese, accompanied by a large glass of freshly-squeezed, sweet orange juice.

Barcelona, by the way, has a large marina filled with super-yachts, some with four or five decks.

I wondered if some belonged to members of the Barça football club.

I should think that two or three days would suffice for a visit to this cosmopolitan city.

Post Tardiness

Fret not, dear readers. The posting this morning was later than usual because I'm not using my normal BT connection.

The wifi where I happen to be can be, shall we say, hit or miss.

I shall try to post articles during the evening, when I tend to have a more reliable connection.

I dined at an old favourite earlier: Avenida Restaurant, Corralejo, Fuerteventura.

The food is relatively simple and unpretentious, as is the restaurant.

The standards, however, are first-rate.

My chicken escalope, served with crisp and dry chips, lettuce and tomato slice, was as enjoyable as ever.

Always order a half portion, lest you have the appetite of a hippopotamus.

One is brought a complimentary basket of fresh bread and strong alioli (my preference).

The bill came to a mere €5.90: a bargain.

Glorious North Antrim

I've already said it many times though, for the benefit of new readers, I shall reiterate and reaffirm my great fondness for the village of Bushmills in County Antrim.

I stayed at my aunt's holiday home in Portballintrae for a few days and, driving past the little railway halt, a huge - not to mention grand - marquee came into eyesight in a large field beside the river Bush.

It was directly opposite the Bushmills Inn Hotel.

I should fill you in on a few preliminary details first.

The landlords of Bushmills and the entire area used to be the Macnaghten Baronets, of Dundarave estate (beside the village).

The Macnaghtens owned about 6,700 acres of land during the Victorian era, including the Giant's Causeway.

A few years ago the present Baronet sold his estate, including Dundarave House, to Dr Peter FitzGerald CBE, founder of Randox Healthcare.

Dr FitzGerald's plans for the development of his land (now 1,300 acres) include corporate hospitality, shooting, fishing, and his personal passion, polo.

Still with me? The massive marquee outside the village was erected by Randox for a charity polo tournament in aid of - correct me if I'm wrong - The Prince's Trust.

I had been informed of the cost of the tickets and speculation that a member of the Royal Family might attend.

Belmont, dear reader, was a mere bystander.

I did spot Mrs Joan Christie OBE, the Lord-Lieutenant of County Antrim; and the local constabulary looked exceptionally smart, wearing shirts and ties etc.

Speaking of the Northern Ireland police, they have a very good pipe band.

They marched proudly along the field, entertaining the spectators.

Judging by four flags flying from the marquee, there were four teams, namely, Northern Ireland, Scotland, the Irish Republic, and South Africa (I gather that Dr FitzGerald's sister is a horse-trainer or owner there).

Basement room at Downhill House ca 1930s

EARLIER in the day I motored through Coleraine and over the river Bann to Downhill Demesne, a property of the National Trust.

Downhill House, Castle, or Palace, whichever you prefer, was a seat of none other than the Right Honourable and Right Reverend Frederick Augustus Hervey, Earl of Bristol and Lord Bishop of Derry.

Let's abbreviate that to the Earl-Bishop.

The Bishop's Gate

I parked outside the Bishop's Gate, had a chin-wag with the staff in the lodge, and ventured forth into the glen.

Not, however, before I paid homage to the headless statue of the Earl-Bishop's brother George, 2nd Earl of Bristol.

The Earl-Bishop erected a magnificent mausoleum or monument to his brother (and patron) in the grounds, within eyesight of Downhill House.

The 2nd Earl's statue stood within this monument.

I walked towards the coastline, where the roofless shell of a belvedere or summer-house now stands.

It was built for one of his daughters, the Lady Mary Hervey (who married the 1st Earl of Erne).

Back at the Bishop's Gate, where the stonework is embellished with an earl's coronet, crests, mitres etc, there is a secondary entrance in the form of a tunnel, for the use of servants and tradesmen.

Portballintrae Visit

I spent a few hours at the Bayview Hotel, Portballintrae, County Antrim, last night.

I had a Nero Wolfe detective novel and, of course, the iPad.

The Bayview Hotel is well established in the village and, in my experience, the staff are generally very welcoming and friendly.

Earlier in the day I'd been to the seaside resort of Portrush, in the same county.

I sought a full-size wetsuit and tried on one that fitted me like a glove, so decided to buy it.

Back at the hotel I was reliably informed that the healthcare company, Randox, is organising an event in a large field beside Bushmills, beside the river Bush.

An enormous marquee has been erected and I'm wondering if this would be an equestrian event, such as a polo match.

I motored into Coleraine, County Londonderry, this morning.

I'm fond of Coleraine, particularly the Diamond where the town hall is situated.

There's a very strong wind blowing today, so I may not christen the wetsuit (!)

El Roque

Five years ago I visited El Roque.

Perhaps I ought to revisit it.

I walked the shortish distance from El Cotillo to this tiny pueblo in 2011.

Having wandered round a bit, El Roque was eerily quiet, almost deserted in fact.

There was a very small shop.

Most properties were whitewashed walls; a few locals chatted to each other.

I photographed a picturesque little villa with a fruit and vegetable garden, including banana and lemon trees.

The bus stops here en route to El Cotillo and Corralejo.

First published in  March, 2011.

New York: I

We have now arrived in New York, USA, and are based at our hotel near Times Square.

It is exceptionally cold, even during daylight hours; to such an extent that we've both invested in two pairs of ear-muffs.

Although the streets are dry, heaps of solid ice lie at the roadsides.

We're spending several days here.

We ate at a local diner called Junior's last night.

This morning we breakfasted there, too: French toast, crispy bacon, syrup, large glasses of orange juice, unlimited coffee.

Our bill this morning was about $55 for breakfast, including the tip.

Now that I've paid for wifi at the hotel ($20), for two days, I hope to send several more articles.

Bombay Masala

I dined again with my pals, Susan and Derek from Worcestershire, at the little Indian restaurant near Music Square, Corralejo, last night.

It's called Bombay Masala. Isn't it a wonder the Political Correctness Police haven't changed that to Mumbai?

The Indian family who run it are utterly charming and courteous.

The decor is unpretentious and unsophisticated.

We ordered small glasses of beer.

Having considered the menu, I chose the Kashmiri Chicken; while the others had the lamb and chicken bhuna.

We shared two portions of pilau rice and one large piece of peschwari naan bread.

My curry was enjoyable and tasty, though I have to declare I prefer the Korma version.

The bill came to about €51 excluding the tip.

They offered us the usual brandy or liqueur and the conclusion.

Thence we ambled several yards across the Square to La Plaza café bar, where a middle-aged singer-guitarist dressed like a cowboy was playing to three boisterous young women tourists.

His rendition of Bamboléo is legendary, I gather (!).

Suitably fortified with liqueur coffees, we strolled back to base. 

Piazza Grande: II

Alas, the weather in the Canary Islands has been poor recently, to put it mildly (!).

We have endured very strong winds, heavy rain, and local flooding.

In fact I've asked my aunt to send me a pair of Wellington boots instanter!

Nevertheless, I met my new friends from Worcestershire and we struggled against the Elements en route to the fine Italian bistro café, Piazza Grande.

Unsurprisingly they had few patrons owing to the inclement conditions outside.

The three of us took a pew inside, where we ordered a bot of red plonk and perused the menu.

We opted for a kind of daily "Special" which consisted of small, battered, hollow cushions of some sort, with a plate of cured meats and cheese.

This was all rather good.

For pudding I had the apricot and almond tart with whipped cream.

Thence we made a beeline for the so-called Music Square in Corralejo, which was totally deserted.

The restaurateurs had all succumbed to the ghastly weather.

One of the few establishments to remain open was a bar called The Blue Rock. We wandered in, had cocktails, and thereafter departed for home, as it were.

Letter from Corralejo

At the moment I'm seated outside the little Italian café, Piazza Grande, in central Corralejo.

Instead of the usual coffee, viz. Leche Leche Largo, I'm enjoying a salubrious mixed smoothie fruit juice  drink.

Since last Wednesday we have endured heavy rain, local flooding, strong winds, and cooler temperatures.

Today, Monday, is calmer. The signs of the thunderstorm remain, however, with some large puddles.

The tennis court resembles a swimming pool!

I've encountered some interesting people during my time here; indeed I'm dining with two of them in two days' time at a Brazilian restaurant.

Tomorrow evening I look forward to a bite of dinner at a Danish establishment called The Ugly Duckling.

It has a limited menu which, to my mind, is good.

Corralejo Sculptures

There are two sculptures at the old quay, Corralejo.

Corralejo, Fuerteventura, remains essentially a fishing town, though tourism must be its principal source of income now.

The maritime heritage is reflected in these sculptures, of families whose fathers, husbands, sons, or brothers, put to a cruel sea to earn a living.

It reminds us of the hope and despair; the relief and heartbreak of fishermen's families.

Piazza Grande

I had a bite of supper at an agreeable little Italian bistro or café called Piazza Grande last night.

It's located at the children's playground in Plaza de Los Niños, Corralejo.

There was intended to be a live musician, though inclement weather called that off.

So I ambled inside, took a pew, and ordered a G&T

The menu is on a blackboard.

In the interim the bar staff placed a complimentary plate of garlic pizza slices beside me.

After some perusal I went for Granny's Raviolacci, three very large pieces of pasta with salty, though tasty, bits of bacon, or its Italian equivalent, atop.

The nosebag was quivering with anticipation, given that I had a hearty appetite on this occasion.

I overheard two other diners inquiring as to the name of the red house wine, so it must have been acceptable to them.

The bill, including two Beefeater gins and another basket of garlic bread, came to €21.