Party of Five

By the middle of October, we still hadn't managed to have a proper trip with our newly extended family. As we were going to be in Glasgow at the start of half term we decided to continue west and make Belfast the destination for Georgie's first outing.

We couldn't check in to our room at the Quality Glasgow Central until 3.00 p.m. so decided to wait in one of the lounges on the first floor. Despite having allegedly had a £1m makeover in 2003, everywhere was shabby (sadly not in the style of Cath Kidston's "Shabby Chic") and musty smelling. The floors were sticky. Crossing the marble lobby was like doing a Neil Armstrong impression.

To kill some time before checking in, I looked around the Logie Baird Suite and some of the corridors. None of the chandeliers had all its bulbs working. Wallpaper was peeling. And there was the stale cigarette, boozy, sweaty smell that permeated the walls. I began to think I had made a dreadful mistake in booking this hotel.

The receptionist hadn't noticed that our bargain deal was to include dinner so while she was making the change I idly picked up some leaflets on the desk - they were dusty. Our early start meant we would miss out on a cooked breakfast - my favourite part of any hotel stay - but we were advised that a continental breakfast could be delivered to our room before 7.00 a.m. Having taken possession of the cardkey to room 261 and we moonwalked across to the lift.

The lock was temperamental. We opened the door to be greeted by two more doors. One immediately in front of us leading to the bathroom and one to the right leading to the bedroom. Now this is the quirky bit…The bathroom overlooked the main concourse of Central Station while the bedroom was outside of the station and we found ourselves gazing at glass panels and air conditioning units. I liked it.

Later that evening I decided to go exploring along fire exits and up staircases. The original tiled flooring was in evidence as was some beautiful wood panelling. Each stairwell was dimly lit with just a bare bulb. The fifth floor appeared to be staff accommodation and dumping ground for old furniture. The sixth floor was locked, at least from the stairwell I entered it but appeared to be an equipment/machinery floor. The seventh floor was in complete darkness. At each landing the view over Glasgow was magnificent but worryingly the windows could open freely with no locks at all in evidence.

If this hotel was empty and abandoned I would have been in my element wandering around the dusty old place. If I hadn't have had Emily with me I would have explored the 7th floor. As it was, I had to keep reminding myself that this was a working hotel and we had paid to stay here.

We went to the hotel's Entresol Restaurant which was as shabby as everywhere else with one exception - the carpets were filthier. Dinner was either help yourself salad bar or soup followed by a carvery. We opted for the salad bar which consisted of unappetising plates of cubed cheddar, potato salad and pasta. There were a number of tiny flies hovering above a bowl of yellow rice.

At the carvery the chef neither knew nor cared what the various dishes were. Neither did we and we ate some. Pudding was a choice of lemon meringue pie or fudge cake. Surely they can't go wrong with a lemon meringue pie? We don't know, we were given strawberry gateau. The staff were pleasant enough but presumably not used to having guests that stayed more than an hour, let alone for dinner.

Our 'bargain' rate no longer seemed such a good deal. For the first time in my life I was relieved to be having a continental breakfast rather than a cooked one.

We settled down for the night although I got up at various times to check out the view of the station. It was strange to see a huge station being virtually empty yet still brightly lit up from the shops. The bedroom, in contrast was in darkness, it being outside the bright lights of the station. Like I say, quirky.

The continental breakfast arrived at 6.00 a.m. and I was glad to leave and search for real coffee.

We caught our train. By the time we reached Stranraer over 2 hours later, both Lucy and Emily had been sick all over themselves, their clothes, the seats, the floor…and I still hadn't had real coffee.

In the waiting area there were signs warning us of "expected behaviour" which mostly is to do with not getting drunk, assaulting staff and singing sectarian songs.

The vessel is big, and quite beautiful from the outside. Inside it is a bit like a bingo hall or amusement arcade.

Women with black eyes sat drinking Guinness and big boys threw the cushions out of the toddlers soft play area. The atmosphere was leery and I found myself humming "I predict a riot". I bought a coffee and read the depressing Belfast Telegraph.

We arrived at Belfast port at 11.45 a.m. when I realised I have made yet another mistake. For £2 extra we could have booked a "Belfast tour" which would have allowed us to board the waiting tour bus and go straight into town. Instead, we called a taxi from the freefone inside the departures building.

Belfast reminded me in a lots of ways of Glasgow. Parts of it have been gentrified, the waterfront has been developed and there are lot of posh shops but I was left wondering who actually shopped there. We did have a lovely lunch in Caffe Metz. As we didn't have a plan of action we did a lot of wandering around. There were the usual shops you find in every city nowadays and not enough speciality shops for my liking.

We came across a Doctor Martin shop and I tried to get them to take a camera for our 36 Cameras project but was told that they couldn't accept it because of "security implications" and I was reminded that this was "Northern Ireland, you know". Duly chastised I left the shop and then realised we no longer had our suitcase. Where the hell was it? Would it have been blown up by the security services? With a newly heightened awareness of security measures I fought to keep tears away remembering that there was a large clock inside (long story, don't ask) which right now was probably ticking away loudly.

Having recovered the suitcase and wondered around a few more shops we decided to make our way back to the ferry terminal.

The return journey was uneventful and we found the Lakeview Guest House in Stranraer quite quickly.

The owners were pleasant and the rooms were newly refurbished. Breakfast was a delight - a wonderful contrast to the previous night's experience.
We took the girls to Agnew Park in the morning which must be a lovely place to spend a few hours in the summer. There wasn't enough in Stranraer itself to hold our attention so we boarded the Glasgow-bound train and broke our journey at Ayr.

Ayr was a real surprise. I hadn't realised it was as pretty or had as many shops (speciality and charity). We spent a wee while there before continuing our homeward journey.

We arrived home shortly after 7.00 p.m. having been travelling all day.

So, was it worth it? The hassle-factor of travelling with 3 young children cannot be overemphasised. I don't think Belfast was sufficiently pleasant to justify the journey. Could it have been better? Well, had I read a review of the Glasgow hotel first, had I combined the trip with some specific event or activity, maybe. Would I do it again? Hmm. I'd like to visit Ayr again. One thing is certain. We will definitely be using our Family Railcard to go on lots of short day trips but the thought of longer journeys fills me with dread.

JB