Stomach Ulster

Warrenpoint Town v Linfield

Dundela Reserves v Knockbreda Reserves

Glentoran v Coleraine

I have a very variable tolerance of flying.  I have a completely irrational fear of it and being a fat fucker, it leads to self-conviction that I'm about to suffer a mid air heart attack.  However, a year of temperance means I am now exactly half the size I was 12 months ago.  So, I've decided to give it another go.  So rather foolishly, I committed to flying out to some Bulgarian lamp post next weekend in order to start a rail assault on Syria.  Finding out that this flight takes four hours, was not the sort of test I wanted to see whether not needing a seatbelt extension would actually reduce the mass hysteria down to tolerable levels.  

So on Friday I decided to have a quick jaunt from Manchester to Heathrow to see if it was bearable.  And it was.  So I was at Heathrow early on Friday morning, with plans for the train back up north.  But why stop there?  A quick perusal of flights showed one heading off to Belfast and an enquiry about tickets revealed a not too astronomical sum.  Into the departure lounge and a check of the footballing scene showed an evening game in the Northern Ireland premier league, and on the Saturday midday reserve games and a myriad of afternoon kick offs, with a very cheap evening flight back to Manchester.  Game On, as they say on signs outside St Roch's.

So for once, the first picture isn't of a Northern 158 at Sowerby Bridge, instead, a plane at Belfast George Best City Airport.

The Irish don't do things by halves and their version of the B-road grass verge walk of shame is a pavement down the hard shoulder of the M3 motorway, as the pedestrian route to the airport station.

Belfast City airport is like London City airport without the core clientele of money launderers.  Just as London City had the extremely ropey Silvertown as its station, Belfast has Sydenham.

The station is close to the Harland & Wolff ship building yards, which built the Titanic, and hereby inflicted Celine Dion and twats doing 'king of the world' scenes on pedalos.  The cranes lumber on in the background.

This gave the first end of row of housing mural.  This one apparently depicts an apprehensive Johnny Logan during through his lesser known paramilitary phase.

My train arrived in from Bangor, one of the exceedingly ugly Spanish built CAF C3K units.

This took me a couple of stops, through Titanic Quarter, to Belfast Central.  This was built in the 1970s as a replacement for Great Victoria Street, which kept getting blown up.  So it could withstand a similar fare, Central was thus made out of eight foot thick re-enforced concrete and is encased in security fencing, giving it the aesthetic appeal of the exercise yard of a maximum security prison.

I was heading onwards to Newry, right on the border with the republic.  This is a relatively new station, and isolated beyond the normal limit of Northern Ireland Railways operations at Portadown.  This means the only usual services to it are the flagship Belfast-Dublin express 'Enterprise' services, which are one of the two remaining loco hauled services in Ireland, which is celebrated with bespoke carpets in the waiting lounge.

They are push-pull operated, with a driving trailer at the Dublin end.  The coaching stock is De Dietrich, these are basically full length versions of the Eurostar coaches, which are shorter as they are articulated to facilitate high speed running.  Articulated means the bogies are shared between carriages, whilst these ones have wheelsets at either end of each carriage.  How dull is that?

Passing Windsor Park, with condemned coaching stock in Adelaide yard in the foreground.  This is actually ex-Gatwick Express coaching stock that NIR bought to use as peak time loco hauled commuter services.

They only operated for a short time, on an early morning run in from Portadown, but used to be a good opportunity for some very rare NIR 071 haulage.  This was my last spin on them in January 2007, the previous evening having been spent at the roped off playing field of Ballinamallard United, which was hosting Premiership level football two seasons later.

Heading southwards, the day had cleared up giving some lovely views over the Mourne Mountains.  Normally when I'm in Europe, I've sorted out travel coupons which rail staff get for free travel abroad, but have to be applied for in advance.  Fortunately, I had brought my European staff card with me which gets tickets at quarter rate.  Even so, I was pretty shocked that a first class single for an hours travel on their premier train came out at £2.25, so normally a tenner?  About a tenth of the equivalent mainland price.

An hour later, into Newry.

My set headed off for the hour or so run to Dublin. Although it might look like the loco is clagging up nicely, it is downhill here and it is actually the generator van giving off the exhaust.  The locos are meant to provide electric supply to the coaches, for light, heat and air con.  However, this type of coaching stock is more power hungry than Boris Johnson, so it was sapping the locos ability to actually move the train, resorted to having a separate generator in an adjacent coach to provide power.  I promise that is the end of dull railway stuff for the day.

The station is situated quite a way out of town.  I flagged the connecting bus as the walk desribed itself as a section of a hiking route 'exploring the ancient volcanic landscape of the Ring of Gullion Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty'.

The reality was a mile and a half down the hard shoulder of the town's bypass.

Growing up in West Berkshire in the 1980s, my knowledge of Newry is always mis-hearing on John Craven's Newsround that it had been bombed, and wondering what the Irish had got against Newbury.  My game for the evening was in the until today, unheard of location of Warrenpoint.  This was a short bus ride away and I had an hour or so before It departed, so I went and had a look at the town museum, which was closed.

So the back up plan of the Showgrounds, home of Newry City.  The slightly isolated location, and the propensity to get blown up, meant the club didn't get to the top of the Irish leagues until the 1990s.  However, a dispute between the manager and the chairman saw the former sue the club in 2012, and the latter choosing to shut it down rather than pay up, perhaps also influenced by having half a million pounds of other debt, with a phoenix club set up.  

The showgrounds have been home to the clubs since the 1950s.  The two stands here were aded ten years ago.

I gouldn't get into the ground itself, so these are a few 'over wall and through gaps' shots.

This was the main stand until the new ones were built, and the only one present when I'd watched a game here, but now appears to be out of use.

There is no such thing. 

The new club, also called Newry City, are climbing back up the leagues, currently at the second level championship.

Wandering back into town takes you passed the Páirc Esler home of County Down GAA, who have five all Ireland titled to their name.

It also houses as the local Newry Shamrocks side

However, the ground was on firm lockdown and the only partial view was from the adjacent rather novel joint premises of a car dealership/carpet superstore.

Fine wines, Ulster style means four different colours of WKD.

My journey into town took me to the bus station for my onward move.

This was a pleasant run down a dual carriageway along the shores of the Newry river estuary that took me to Warrenpoint.

Warrenpoint was a small waterfront settlement that became popular in the 18th century as a tourist population.  It continued to grow when ships became too big to navigate the shallow lough up to Newry, and a dock was established.  These two remain as the town's prime industries.  So a wander across the main square.

Took me to a surprisingly active container port, with St Vincent Grenadines registered MV Saga moored up after a passage over from Spain.

Further along the waterfront and the view across to Omeath in the Republic.  A ferry operated but it seemed it is now only for the summer season so my planned nautical exploits were thwarted.

And a very dramatic view out across Carlingford Lough and out into the Irish Sea.

Instead it was a trek out along the Upper Dronmore Road.  The football ground is located some way out of the town, and seemingly halfway back to Newry, there were signs of activity.

Although signed as a household recycling centre, this was definitely a football ground.

Warrenpoint Town 1 v Linfield 4, Danske Bank Premiership

Warrenpoint are relative newcomers to the footballing world, having only come into existence in 1987.  For a long time they competed at a local level, latterly in the Mid-Ulster League, and it was a title win in that which saw promotion to the Football League structure in 2010.  Championship 2 was won at the first attempt, and then fortunes shone on them as Newry City's demise described earlier, give Warrenpoint the unexpected bonus of higher grade available players, which resulted in a play off win and promotion to the Premier League in 2013.  They survived a couple of seasons but were relegated with the final kick of the season in 2015, however last season saw the win the Championship and return to the top level.

Linfield were formed in 1886 by workers of Ulster Spinning Company's Linfield Mill.  They were founder members of the Irish league in 1890.  Since then they have go on to win fifty odd league titles, in both the combined Ireland and Northern Roland League.  They are the Protestant club for Belfast, which means following the religious doctrine of helping old ladies across the road and respecting those of a different religious persuasion, understanding that you all have a common aim of improving mankind through gods work.  Oh, apart from the catholic rivals quitting football after a mid game riot that broke their forwards leg.  And a few fracas in European games against clubs from the Republic, meaning they have had to play home European fixtures in Holland and Wrexham.  Religion eh, funny old business, though things do seem to have mellowed in recent times.

Warrenpoint moved to Milltown Stadium in 1997 having previously played at the more central but changing room devoid Clonallon Park.  Originally just a railed off pitch, Milltown has been added to as the club have progressed up the leagues.  When they first reached the premier league, they had to share at Dungannon Swifts, until Milltown was brought up to the required standard.

The original cover is on the near touchline, which offers a couple of rows of seating in a slightly elevated position.

  
To meet seating requirements of the premier league, two further seating areas have been constructed on the opposite touchline, those these are quite awkwardly sited, at ground level and behind floodlight pylons, as they have had to be accommodated around the substantial dug outs and media room that sit astride the halfway line.

The most recent addition has been a decent sized covered terrace behind the far goal line.

The near end remains as hard standing.

The teams entered the fray.

But happily, their keeper had also brought an @keepers_towel.  What I didn't realise was that this keeper has also made over fifty appearances for Man United.

As at South Shields a few weeks ago, the lack of raised terracing on most of the sides makes it very difficult viewing when there is any decent sized crowd present, as there was today.  This was the most uninhibited view, from the terracing at the far end.

Northern Ireland's all time leading international goalscorer patrols the touchline.

Linfield vie with Glentoran as Northern Ireland's best supported club, so had travelled in numbers, and every one of them appeared to have brought a flag.

They got to see their side take the lead.

Only to see Warrenpoint equalise almost immediately with an extremely precise curling shot from the corner of the penalty area.

Wandering around the ground, the lack of elevation makes pictures either ruined or enhanced, by the presence of spectators.  I tend towards the latter, as I'm usually more interested in the crowd than I am the football. 

Into the second half and Linfield regained the lead.

And added a couple more.

The game ended 1-4, which took Linfield to the top of the league.  Warrenpoint were a very friendly club and all the officials were very welcoming and helpful.  However, the ground is a modern necessity for the evils of grading, and whilst fine for what is required and the resources available, isn't the sort that I get that excited about, but its lovely location and hospitality does still make it worth a visit.

After the game, a steady walk back into town took me to a moon lit square, where I found I'd been reading Sunday's timetable so had an hour to wait for a bus.  I got to see a seemingly never ending convoy of Linfield supporters coaches heading towards the motorway.  I think at least half were needed just to carry the flags.



I was sharing the bus shelter with four feral youths who took it in turns to run away from various cars that would pull up and below ''yeah, you'd better run" at them, so god knows who they had upset.  The entertainment was broken by a ships horn and the churning of bow thrusters which alerted me to the arrival of the MV Clipper Pennant, which shuttles between Heysham, Liverpool and here with its cargo of, well whatever it is that people in Warrenpoint, Heysham and Liverpool buy off each other.  

  
Sometime approaching midnight my bus arrived.

Which dropped me off somewhere in Newry, but no where near the advertised bus station.

A walk through the centre revealed the city to be one of those places that looks better at night.

But I was able to locate my hotel, which seemed to have suddenly become quite evocative in the darkness.

The following morning and back through the centre of Newry, with it actually not looking too bad in the light.

It was along a different trunk road hard shoulder out to the station.  Another example of my favoured use of car number plate signage.  This household getting VFM by prefixing the house designation with 'number'.

Before I worked on the railway, I had a short spell in logistics.  Whenever we tried to build a new distribution centre, there were strict planning stipulations to make the place look as least like a distribution centre as possible.  So Newry station, now looks more like a distribution centre than any distribution centre does.  It really does appear the architect had run out of colour toner on the day he was due to present the design, and winged it, and somehow the railway fell for it.

My train was another Enterprise service, and rolled in an unannounced ten minutes late, which the train staff heroically turned into a twenty minute late departure through general dicking around.

Irish railways have a strong tradition of never intentionally showing any signs of operational competence, preferring instead to just let various disasters unfold.  At Portadown, the all stops service into Belfast was put out three minutes ahead of us, with no opportunity to get around it on the way, so we crawled the rest of the way behind it.  What was unexpected was that in Belfast, it diverts into Great Victoria Street terminus, before heading back out on its way to Bangor, but was allowed to do the whole move ahead of us so I managed to miss a 1 hour ten minute connection in Belfast, which even by Irish standards, was quite an achievement.  

Eventually a unit did arrive.

This took me out along the south shore of Belfast Lough.

To the recently much smartened up Cultra station.

My unit headed off to the coast, whilst I was heading to my third local transport museum in as many weeks.

I know what you're thinking, the only transport history Northern Ireland has is Titanic, Delorean and armour plated Land Rovers.  Well, I was hear to prove you wrong. 

OK, not the best of starts, but I'm sure they'll diversify soon.

Bugger.  

Before I could get to the petrol bomb stained RUC vehicles, I diverted to have a look at the excellent rail display.

This was the prime display of kettles, although it was designed, built and operated by the Free State. 

A collection of narrow gauge industrial locos from Bord na Móna and Guinness, probably paired together as their products both taste the same.  

The lack of coal deposits meant the Irish were early adopters of internal combustion powered rail vehicles, which included these buses on rails from the 1930s.  Ninety years later, I travel to work on a Pacer, showing that evolution on the railways is at a pace that the DUP would approve of.

Until mid morning the day before, I'd never even heard of the place, now it seemed omnipresent.

This was a display showing how the 19th century engineerng structures were still in place.  Except it used the very strange pairing of a model of an English locomotive with some seriously rare Hornby XPT coaches, this being the Australian high speed train.

I did visit the Titanic exhibition, which was very good.  This was a good bit of class warfare, showing in colour the survivors from each class of travel, which those that died in grey below.  Basically, two thirds of the first class passengers survived, as shown in the foreground, whilst to the left shows the number of third class passengers that died.

To compete with Coventry's Peugeot 405 estate, and Glasgow's fake Escort XR3i, Belfast offered up a Ford Mondeo with a few stickers on it.  Although there was more interest in those than there was in the combined collection of pre-1930s cars.

This fella offered me a cheery goodbye, donning what I hope is next years Reading kit and sponsor. 

It was back to the station for a train into Belfast.

Passing the Inverary Avenue home of East Belfast FC, which was an option for a decent @nonleague_train...

...however, the slightly partisan artwork led me to postponing the visit until I fully understand religion.  And para-militariasm. 

So instead I completed full circle or rail use for the trip, alighting back at Sydenham.

Where a walk through suburbia took me here.  I would point out that I wasn't trying to picture such dereliction, but this was the only unhindered view of the signage.

What on Google earth appeared to be the main stand was actually a kick boxing gym, and previously the social club. 



Instead, this rather impenetrable alternative has arisen. 



It's window budget apparently having been focused on these rather fine engravings that led into the social club.  A gathering of occupants preparing for the screening of the Old Firm game, pointed me towards the fire escape which was also the entrance into the ground.

Dundela Reserves 4 v Knockbreda Reserves 1, Championship Development League – North Division
Dundela were formed in 1895 as a works team of a local dairy.  They have. Outlying played at intermediate level and it seems that most of their success has come in cups, primarily an Irish Cup win in the 1950s. 

Knockbreda were formed in 1948 as a church team.  They stayed at this level for some time, before a march up to Intermediate level in the 1990s saw them join the Northern Intermediate league.  Having moved to suitable facilities, they were included in the newly formed Championship 2 in 2009, which in effect is step 3 of Northern Ireland football, and have since risen to Championship 1.

Wilgar Park has been home to Dundela since 1900, and oh, what joy.  For every bit Warrenpoint was not my sort of ground, this was truly glorious.

An extension of the old social club offered a terraced cover, affectionately known as the Hen run.

  
A small section of seating was located within it. 

This is painted at the back of the stand and is indeed the Merseyside club, though I can find no details of what the connection is. 

The rest of the ground was semi-fenced off, but an improvised access arrangement was in place so I made my way round.

Behind the goal was a continuation of the side terracing along half the length of the goal line.

The far touch line did have a full length open terrace but this is in the process of being removed.  Flats are being built here with the proceeds funding the conversion of the pitch to 3G, and the installation of floodlights.

Though this seemed to be the visible signs of the work on the ground.  It may take some sign.

No one seemed to be showing any concern about me accessing the building sites, so I was able to get some unusual shots. 

This being one of my favourite ground views for some time.  In the background can be seen the shipyard cranes, and indeed, one of Dundela's main rivals are the excelelntly named Harland & Wolff Welders FC.

I'd been absorbed in the wonder of the ground, so forgot the game was going on.  Until an attempted knee-capping resulted in one player being carried off, and I think his assailant was sent off, the visitors certainly had a player less after the event, though I didn't see any cards waved.

Another look at the wonderful main stand, as the ref races the home winger.

Game photos framed by earth moving heavy plant - No.1 in what I hope is a very long series.

The only disappointment was that both sides steadfastly refused to engage in massive punted clearance, so this shot was the highest I'd got so far.

Fortunately the away defence did finally relent.

The home side took the lead just before half time.

The away keeper had an @keepers_towel but the second half started with him showing disdain to the careful hanging that such wondrous objects are worthy of.

Great footballing backdrops to rival both Glasgow Perthshire and Runcorn Town.

The second half saw me relocate to the splendour of director's box, and was immediately rewarded with another goal for Dundela.

Which was soon followed by a penalty which was successfully converted.

And another, which I couldn't be bothered to move for.  'Duly dispatched'.

There was a least four nano-seconds gap between the home managers cry of 'clean sheet' being followed by a horrendous backpass from one of his defenders being intercepted by a by now quite lonely Knockbreda forward who shot into the open goal. 

One last wander around the building site.

As the game finished 4-1, and I bid farewell to a quite excellent way to spend a Saturday lunchtime.

A ten minute wander down a hill took me to here.

Which was the location for my next game, although slightly less picturesque close up.

Glentoran 0 v Coleraine 0, Danske Bank Premiership

Glentoran were formed in 1882.  Due to their rivalry with Linfield, I'd always assumed that they were a catholic club but infact, they are also predominantly Unionist, but with a more relaxed stance on catholic players and to some extent, supporters.  They's had a fair amount of pre-war success with eight Irish league and six cup titles, however, the demise of Belfast Celtic in 1947 saw Glentoran emerge as the main rival to the dominance of Linfield, and this has seen them increase the tally to 23 League and 22 cup wins, as well as at the heady heights of 413th in the UEFA rankings, nestling nicely between Latvia's Liepājas Metalurgs and Estonia's Santos Tartu.  They are coming up for an unprecedented ten season gap since their last title win.

Coleraine is located on the north coast, round towards L'Derry.  The football side were founded in 1927, as a merger of the towns Olympic and Alexandra sides.  They played at an intermediate level with a bit of cup success until the arrival of former Celtic player Bertie Peacock in the 1960s saw them rise to prominence in the Irish League, winning it in 1974 as well as capturing three Irish cup wins in the same decade.  More recent times have seen a period of financial strife, but they have emerged for that amid a long run in the top division.

The Oval has been home to Glentoran since 1892.  It originally ran perpendicular to its current layout, but a major redesign in 1903 saw it assume its current position, and the bowl shape still present today was formed.  The next redesign was done by the Luftwaffe, with the ground situated adjacent to Belfast's docks and shipyard, it had numerous direct hits from wayward bombings, and the grounds current guise dates mostly from the post-war rebuilding.

Dominating the ground is the huge main stand, built in 1953 from the proceeds of selling such players as Danny Blanchflower to Barnsley, and Billy Bingham to Sunderland.  It has a capacity of 2,600 seats, and is similar design to the old main stand at Wigan's Springfield Park, though I can't ever remember that as being so imposing.

Opposite is a large cover which for many years was the home terrace.  However it has now had seats installed, solely to give the ground a half decent capacity for European games.

The end terraces are wonderful relics to grounds passed, with further grass banking at the rear of the Sydenham end.  A veritable fagan's army of orchestrated kids were putting up a myriad of banners.

Halfway up the hillside, the equally traditional 'piss-up-a-wall' men's bogs seem tot have been abandoned.

The Oval is undoubtedly one of the must-do locations for groundhoppers, especially as there are now firm plans to completely rebuild it.  This attracts cranks from across Europe, with the inevitable toilet cistern stickering. 

A slightly different view of the main stand, the size of it meaning the lower tier has now had its own roof added.

The teams emerged.

I'd taken the opportunity to sit right at the back of the upper tier of the main stand, which gave a fantastic view of Belfast, people's heads, and lots of opening pressure from Coleraine.  

More for the 'lost souls at football' album.

Coleraine continued to be the better team, but the game changed when a late tackle by one of their forwards caused a fracas.

To which the offender was duly sent off, and can be seen exiting at the bottom, to some constructive words of advice from the home supporters.

This somewhat blunted the away threat, and with Glentoran struggling to string two passes together, I started to take more interest in the keenly contested kids game going on atop the mountain behind the goal.

I have to say, there was a distinct advantage in winning the toss and choosing which direction to be shooting.  Still not as steep as Chard.

There was also a @nonleague_train, a Bangor-Portadown service passing behind the visitors on the terrace.

The flags were all in place around the perimeter fence, which brought some colour to the ground.

But also prevented any pitchside viewing, which was only a problem in that a gale was blowing and the fence offered some protection against the early signs of hypothermia.

It was 0-0 at half time and the second continued in much the same vein, with Glentoran appearing to be having an off day and Coleraine hampered by being a player down.

The away support had decamped from their first half position on the large terrace, to the small section behind that was open behind the end they were attacking.

The game was heading for a stalemate, until in the 94th minute a clumsy challenge on a breaking home forward saw the ref give a penalty.

So, an undeserved win for the home side.  Well, no.  The penalty taker had other ideas and, despite going for soft placement rather than blasting it, somehow managed to clear the wall in the background with one of the worst penalty attempts I have ever seen.  Still, at least I didn't have to say 'duly dispatched'.

And so the game ended, a very entertaining 0-0, which kept Coleraine top.

There was a convenient post match flight back to Manchester as the ground is only a short walk from the airport, though predictably, down the verge of another trunk road.

The airport terminal has had its pre-fix added in the style of a provincial nightclub, making it look like the entrance to something off Hitman and Her.

Waiting in the departure lounge and a disgruntled youth in a tracksuit dumped a kitbag on the table in front of me, then set about furiously grunting into his phone.  On noticing the badge on his holdall, and closer examination of the person themselves, I realised that this was none other than the forward who had just put his penalty somewhere into Antrim.

On the plane within an hour of the final whistle, a fourty minute flight and a couple of swift train changes later, saw me back into Sowerby just over three hours after the game was over.

So an unexpected but highly enjoyable trip across to Ulster, and with flying now back on the agenda, this should see a monthly weekend of continental football, starting next weekend with Saturday games in Sofia, the overnight train to Istanbul, and a few more Turkish amateur grounds to clear on the Sunday.