The trip posts continue, and it's about time. We arrived home on February 9th, and it's already April 25th. The memories are not as fresh as they were.
We had Liverpool on our list because our son is a Beatles fan, and this is Beatles Town. It was good to have a bit of a rest, though. Frank and I stayed in, most of the time, and let Steve have his tour of all the old haunts of his heroes. I did go to Mathew Street, and looked at the Cavern--the new one. But when I came to the souvenir shop and found there was nothing that tempted me, I hurried back to the hotel and told Steve to carry on and get his souvenirs.
The hotel, the Marriott, was all right. Quite ordinary. There was a swimming pool, so we made use of that.
When our second night was over, and we were preparing to leave, that's when the old feelings of being taken advantage of began to nag.
Why on earth did we have to fly to Belfast? Our next stop was to be Edinburgh--also not necessary. That agent, once again, was more interested in her commission than in our trip. Anyone who has ever travelled in the United Kingdom knows that trains go everywhere. Including from Liverpool to Edinburgh or Aberdeen, and certainly to Inverurie. Occasionally, it may be necessary to go by bus. But I cannot fathom why we had to go to Belfast.
Half an hour in the air to Belfast. Four hours sitting in the Belfast airport. Then half an hour in the air to Edinburgh. Then overnight in Edinburgh. Then train to Aberdeen and to Inverurie. At last!