JOURNEY TO BELFAST - MY OBSESSION WITH GREAT BRITAIN

OCTOBER 2025

In the world travelers’ fraternity, of which I count myself as a full-fledged member, some countries/regions just burst out in their prominence as the location of important and significant experiences that have shaped our lives forever. For me, it was Britain. A rail journey through Egypt and the Sudan, a consulting job in Bangladesh and a chance meeting with a French painter of seascapes from Wales; following up on all these seemingly disparate events, led me to the UK. From those experiences, Britain has become a very special place of inspiration for me. In Durham, Rhosneigr, Aberdeen and Oxford, to name just a few, I enjoyed personal discussions with characters I have met along the way; all of these fueling my further obsession with travel and adventure. Repeatedly, my quest for further insights into subjects/places that piqued my interest, invariably led me to Britain, cementing this “special relationship”[1] indeed forever. In my case, due to my “British Obsession”, I recall past sojourns to the UK, the sensations and memories that attracted me to the UK, now set in the scene of October 2025. Let’s see how I manage it.

During these trips, I never trod the tourist track but spent my time prowling through old bookstores along Charing Cross Road; enjoying a Sunday afternoon concert at the Church of St Martin – in – the - Fields at Trafalgar Square; other significant events include using chopsticks for the first time and learning my first two words of Polish dzień dobry from the hotel receptionist. 

One of the fruits of my bookstore visits is the massive four – volume tome tipping the scales at 12.6 kg (nearly 28 pounds of books) The Story of the Great Cape to Cairo Rail and River Route 1887 - 1922 published by the Pioneer Publishing Company in 1923 and edited and compiled by Leo Weinthal, C.B.E, F.R.G.S.. It was a suitably lavish tribute to one of the most glorious failures of the empire, the project conceived by Cecil Rhodes as "The Iron Spine and Ribs of Africa". These books helped provide me the stimulus and motivation to explore that continent’s railways and accept a contract for work in South Africa starting in 1981. As I was on my way to Bangladesh at the time, the bookstore owner kindly agreed to keep them for my until my return to London, several weeks’ later. I and the books then flew back with me to my home in the USA, then to South Africa where we remained for 30 years, before reluctantly returning back to USA. But while my enthusiasm for travel may not have begun in England, my many trips to the UK certainly provided me with resources and personal contacts that served to stimulate my imagination and added spark to my desire for rail travel in far – off places.

But it was on my way to Moscow in December 1974, that I stepped first trip to British soil, giving me a brief glimpse of Britain, if only from a Heathrow Airport and a nearby hotel room. The Trans – Siberian Railway was the main dish on my itinerary and though it was a cold and snowy winter, I was keenly anticipating the journey and experience. This was my first sojourn overseas and it proved to be the precursor of many travel adventures forming my future career first working, then living, overseas. The Heathrow transit lounge was under construction, with thin plywood walkways where passengers in their winter boots stomped rhythmically as if the Soviet troops were to be my escort to Sheremetyevo Airport. I was to make many trips to the UK, including more extended stays than the two – hour transit stop back so many years ago.   

People, not touristic places, were the milestones of my UK ventures. These travels have resulted in treasure troves of first – hand historical nuggets from Richard Hill about railway operations in the Sudan (where he went in 1927, holding several positions with the colonial railway administration) during the dual colonial period of the Anglo – Egyptian Condominium; a visit to the Sudan Archive, which Mr. Hill established at Durham University^[2]; a chilly January weekend in Rhosneigr, Anglesey, North Wales, with a painter of seascapes and his wife who made pottery figures; spent time with fellow South Africans resident in the UK while undertaking a consulting assignment in Bangladesh but between trips to South Asia, prowled endlessly through used bookstores along Charing Cross Road, sat at a Sunday afternoon concert at the Church of St Martin – in – the – Fields and learned my first Polish expression Dzień dobry from a hotel front office attendant. In that city’s Chinatown, I learned to use chopsticks (the waiter was so patient as he said they had no forks; but showed me until I achieved a modicum of success); I also became accustomed to travel in the city and to know that, while London’s double – decker busses are an interesting ride, they are totally unreliable during rush hour; routes are often cancelled, and long traffic delays are common; the Underground is a much more reliable commuting option.

When the White Rabbit was instructed to read the paper that proves valuable in the case of the Knave of Hearts in Alice’s Adventure in Wonderland he was told: “begin at the beginning”. That is what I will do, beginning with a description of three auspicious events that opened the UK doors for me.  

1 – A rail trip across the Sudan and a visit with Sir Richard Leslie Hill

2 – Channel Crossing by Ferry and meeting a French Seascape Painter from Wales

3 – In London during a consulting assignment in Bangladesh during South Africa’s Apartheid Rule 

First Trip: Cairo to Khartoum, 1976

It was my neighbor’s posting as Air Defense Attache at the US embassy in Addis Abeba that prompted my first trip to the Sudan.  He invited me to visit any time I was in the neighborhood, so, naturally, I made it my business to be there. My somewhat circuitous trip to Ethiopia, (October 2076) included Istanbul and Cairo, then boarded an overnight train to Sadd El Aali (just south of Aswan, about a kilometer south of the High Dam). From Sadd El Aali I endured a ramshackle ferry across Lake Nassar to Wadi Halfa in the northern Sudan where I boarded the train to Khartoum. It should be noted that the actual performance of the train ignored the 6 pm timetable arrival time in Khartoum, arriving only early the next morning in the Sudanese capital. My welcome at the Meridien Hotel was somewhat muted as the King of Saudi Arabia and his entourage had occupied the entire premises of the hotel; but that is the subject of another adventure travel story. From Khartoum I flew to Addis. But during that trip, I became intrigued by the trip on the Sudan Railways and hungered to delve into its history during the time of the British occupation.

For the journey across the vast expanse of man-made Lake Nassar there was only a ramshackle ferry operated by the Nile Navigation Company to the northern tip of the Sudan at Wadi Halfa where I boarded a Sudan railways “express” train to Khartoum. Since that rugged ordeal of a trip over the 1.067 meter – gauge Sudan Railways, which tracks mostly lie buried in the sand and whose trains run days, not hours, late, I had become fascinated with the Sudan Railways and became hungry to uncover its history. Further research found that the rails were laid under British occupation on the territory then known as the Anglo – Egyptian Sudan. During the early years, both freight and passenger trains operated strictly to the schedule; however, over the years, neglect crept into the maintenance practices and operational procedures. A commentary on the time – keeping of the Sudan Railways can be seen in the comments during the early years of the company:

Of the Sudan Railways in 1926, the Sudan Railways General Manager wrote in his report to the London Institute of Civil Engineers:

"Owing to the length of journeys and to the fact that trains are liable to be held up for a whole night or longer, by sand - storms or rains, a very considerable degree of comfort is necessary." (Sir Fredrick Pinckney)

The General Manager of the Sudan Railways in the 1978 Annual Report, wrote that train performance was not exactly as planned:

"the record of train punctuality was very much affected by heavy rains and winds, engineering works, engine failures, etc.  However, a small number of freight and passenger trains arrived at destination on time." 

That was more than seventy years ago - British rule has ended, the Anglo-Egyptian Sudan has long since been dissolved, and independence gained in 1956.  What used to be an efficiently operated railway system with most trains adhering to published schedules (except for the environmental hazards cited by Pinckney) is now a sparsely-funded corporation of the Sudan Government, with many formerly main routes, abandoned.  There are frequent well-founded allegations of corruption, and trains struggling just to reach destination with little regard for punctuality.  These problems have impeded internal transport and have contributed to the economic decline of the Sudan. The railway extends more than 4,000 km across the country, but over half of the lines are abandoned.

Military and strategic purposes were the motivation of early railway development in the Sudan.  With General Gordon isolated in Khartoum during the late 1880's, the British attempts at military penetration for a rescue attempt prompted the construction of railway lines from both the north and east.  The northerly route was built from Wadi Halfa to Saras, a thirty – three mile railway designed to by-pass the second cataract of the Nile, and to follow the Nile all the way to Khartoum to facilitate Gordon's rescue.  The line from the east began at the Red Sea port of Suakin (just south of the present Port Sudan), heading southwesterly into the desert towards Khartoum.  While both lines were built, British forces were unsuccessful in reaching the embattled capital, and like Gordon himself, were ultimately destroyed by the fanatical forces of the Mahdi. 

In 1896, twelve years after the fall of Khartoum, and the death of its protector General “Chinese” Gordon, General Kitchener completed the railway line from Wadi Halfa.  He chose the direct route 930 kilometers across the fierce Nubian Desert, to join the banks of the Nile at Abu Hamed, where the line continued to follow the river southward to Khartoum.  He was able to avenge Gordon's death and recapture Khartoum and most of the Sudan.  Following the British victories, the country was known as the Anglo-Egyptian Sudan, being jointly ruled by England and Egypt. Railway branch lines to the south and west were completed during the late 1950's, just after independence, primarily for political reasons to try to unify the diverse ethnic groups of the country.  

My search for information about the railway development in the country which now captured my fascination led me to a book published in 1965 by Richard Hill, Sudan Transport.  Correspondence with the publisher, Oxford University Press, led me to contact Richard Hill, who was living in Oxford with his Italian wife, Juliana. Richard held various positions in the management of the Sudan Railways while in the British civil service, also he was a lecturer at Durham University having developed a bibliography of the Anglo-Egyptian Sudan and created the Sudan Archive at that institution.

Richard Hill turned out to be one of the great pioneers in the study of the modern history of the Sudan. I contacted him and, during my subsequent trip to the UK, arranged several hours’ conversation one afternoon with Richard and his wife Juliana, at his Oxford home. Richard and Juliana spent time together in the Sudan as well as throughout the middle east, including the lands of Palestine (under Ottoman Rule). During my visit Juliana was showing signs of dementia and about every five minutes during my discussions with Richard, entered the room and exclaimed: “The road from Rome to Florence reminded me of the road from Jaffa to Jerusalem”. Richard was kind and patient as after each exclamation of his wife, he responded: “yes, dear, thank you very much”. This continued for much of that afternoon in Oxford. 

Weeks later, I delved into the Sudan Archives at Durham University which he established, finding many fascinating old manuscripts from the colonial days. Sadly, Richard passed away a few years following my visit. In his obituary by London’s The Independent newspaper in 1996 he was described in the following manner:

“Richard Leslie Hill was born at Ramsbury, Wiltshire, in February 1901, a month too late (to his chagrin) to call himself a Victorian. He owed this sense of history to his father, also, like all first-born Hills of Ramsbury, but his tall, spare figure, latterly bald, his neat moustache, gave him an aura of precision, conspicuous also in his fine italic hand. To all, he observed unfailing courtesy. It flowed from him naturally, like the perfect charity to which it was the natural expression. In his own field omniscient, he gave knowledge freely; what he did not know he sought humbly, for humility was as natural to him as charity.”

I recall that day, meeting him and his wife in Oxford, as one of the most interesting and informative conversations and certainly deepened my understanding of the transport history of that central African nation, and learned first - hand about his experiences during the days of the Anglo-Egyptian Condominium (until it terminated in 1956). Officially, both countries had authority but in fact, most national issues were the responsibility of the British Government. Unfortunately, that central African nation is currently in the throes of a devastating civil war.

Second Trip: Calais to Dover Ferry led me to Rhosneigr, Wales

It was a summer’s afternoon in July 1978 when I boarded the Calais – Folkstone ferry and soon fell into conversation with Louis Noel, a painter of seascapes who was resident in both Amiens, France and Rhosneigr, Wales. He told me he was interested in taking a freighter cruise around the world but did not know how to go about it. I promised to do some research and we established correspondence during the ensuing months. In January of the following year, I visited Louis and his wife Cathy (a ceramic artist) at their home on the island of Anglesey, North Wales. Typical of small Welsh villages, on the main street in Rhosneigr, their house was unheated so on that cold January evening, my bed was prepared by laying several hot water bottles on the bedsheets, under the blanket, about an hour before retiring. We enjoyed a splendid lunch at the Bull Bay hotel^[3] where one of our fellow diners bore a shivering likeness of Adolph Hitler. After driving around the island I became convinced that the rumor is true: sheep amounted to the vast majority of the island’s population.

Third Trip: Bangladesh Consultancy

It was a railway consultancy in Bangladesh that prompted my five-month stay in London. While a resident of South Africa during the 1980’s, I accepted a World Bank  - funded consultancy with an English management consulting firm, for an economic analysis of the Jamuna Bridge in Bangladesh. Five months in London, which included two trips to Bangladesh for field work. The purpose of the study was an attempt to economically justify the building of a rail/road bridge over the Jamuna River. This involved a five-month stay in London, which included making two trips to Bangladesh.

The Anti-Apartheid movement had no more active venue that London. During my stay in London, I became well aware of the anti – Apartheid movement world-wide. I made contacts with several South Africans in the UK, including Dr David Simon, professor of development geography at the University of London. During each of my subsequent trips to London, lunch with David was usually included during my days in the city. I also had the opportunity to see the movie Cry Freedom, which was banned in South Africa.

As South Africa’s Apartheid Government still ruled during that time, the UK became a hotbed of the anti-Apartheid movement with non-stop demonstrations in front of South Africa House at Trafalgar Square. I did, however, attended cocktail parties at South Africa House and was one of the guests who, when leaving the building, were unseen by the demonstrators in front as embassy staff ushered us out through the private side entrance on Duncannon St.

Those five months in London made that city my second home at the time – and I thoroughly enjoyed my time as a temporary Londoner.

Now, enroute to a conference in Belfast, I was embarking on a return trip to the UK; first stop, London.

UK Adventure – 2025

My Gatwick-bound bird in Tampa

Eight hours after leaving Florida’s sunny skies behind, a steely grey sky and a cold wind, soon to be lashed with rain, greeted my mid-October arrival at Gatwick airport. I would have two days in London before heading to the far north of the UK on the Caledonian Sleeper to Ft. William. A Thameslink train to St Pancras, followed by a caffe latte amid the rushing commuters and intercontinental travelers at the station, and I was truly in London.

First surprise of my Gatwick arrival was the sight of the The People’s Monarch which depicts the late Queen Elizabeth at the time of her coronation and at her Diamond Jubilee.

The Queen

It is 38 square metres and is comprised of 5,000 photos of UK citizens.  

I was determined not to become a victim but the UK has been plagued recently by railway strikes and I was taking every precaution – checked online sources weeks before the trip, sent emails to Great Western Railway. My conclusion that such a disruption would be unlikely. Though a bit risky, I planned to visit Peter for Sunday roast lunch, a consulting colleague from a recent project in Turkey. He lives in Worcester, about a two-hour rail journey from Paddington Station; but I would be leaving the same day, begin my rail adventure to the north by Caledonian Sleeper, departing from Euston at 20;20.  I went up to the ticket agent in the station to enquire:

”Are the trains to Worcester running on time….any threat of a disruption? There could be a strike, engineering works, birds on the tracks….”? The agent responded calmly: “Oh, there are many more reasons for a possible disruption: if it rains, Government refuses to pay us, etc.”. With this depressing news, I bought my ticket, nonetheless.

At first, all appeared normal, as my Worcester-bound DMU (Avanti operated) departed Paddington moving well until and arrival at Oxford, when the announcement that immediately brought a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach: “this train is now terminated”.  

My Avanti express to Worcester - at Paddington

It was in Oxford more than 45 years ago, when I spent a pleasant few hours at the home of Sir Richard Leslie Hill, talking about his experiences in the British Colonial Service in that East African country.

While I could have continued to Worcester on a later train, but, as my return train to Paddington was also cancelled. I admitted defeat and returned to London. (Great Western Railway kindly provided a full refund). So, I became a victim of the great train strikes of the UK though it was the only such incident during my two-week trip.

Later that evening I successfully escaped London on the Caledonian Sleeper, slowly drifting northward out of Euston station, leaving the frantic Sunday evening crowds behind. Some delays as the train had to move northward over the East Coast main line due to ongoing engineering works – but no matter – I was embarking on my UK rail adventure in earnest.

Happily on board my Caledonian Sleeper, and anticipating a grand introduction to the Scottish West Highlands region, I settled in enjoying a tall frosty beer before a late evening meal in the restaurant car - sleeping soundly until the dawn broke with views of the hill country of southern Scotland, shrouded in mist at first, then as the morning wore on, revealed themselves in full glory. After a light breakfast of haggis, black pudding, sausage, ham and eggs, I arrived in Ft William for a half-day’s meander to Ft. Agustus, Loch Ness and Isle of Skye.

Caledonian Sleeper

Scotland - early morning

Reservations on the Jacobite steam train had eluded me for many months.  Seats are sold out as soon as they are offered, and typically only by checking wait lists for cancellations each day, can a prospective passenger find a place. A German colleague booked his Jacobite trip one year in advance. But fate smiled on me that day, several months before, when I managed to grab one seat. In the teeth of a cold, wind-driven rain, I finally boarded the Jacobite steam train to Mallaig, returning later in the afternoon. The trip turned out to be nothing special; an interesting ride to the coast, a mediocre meal at a local café, and a return to Ft. William. Not one of my great rail adventures of all time.

Jacobite

The iconic “castle by the sea”

Next day, in a light drizzle, I boarded the early morning train to Glasgow Queen Street; changing stations to Glasgow Central for my connection to the ferry terminal just to the north of Stranraer, about 150 km south of Glasgow in the far southwestern part of the country. Meaning “the fat nose” in Scottish Gaelic, Stranraer was the site of the battle of Loch Ryan in 1307 during the Scottish Wars of Independence.  The Scottish forces led by Dungal MacDouall, entered the Bay of Stranraer but were successfully repulsed by the English supporters with MacDouall summarily executed. About 15 years ago, the ferry terminal was moved about 10 kms northward to Cairnryan on account of deteriorated quays and siltation of the navigation channel to Stranraer. The move was to benefit the ferry lines, however, the economy of Stranraer has been declining ever since and it now only a quite village by the sea.

Discovering my namesake Castle Kennedy was first on the agenda the next morning. As I made my way to Cairnryan and my Stena Line ferry to Belfast, I paused for a quick stop at the remains of Castle Kennedy. The site of the castle lies about 3 miles from Stranraer and was constructed in 1607 by the Earl of Cassilis as a mansion house on the site of an earlier castle. My taxi driver found the location easily, but our time was cut short as the custodian of the castle is quite a contrary individual, and shouts angrily at visitors to get away from the property. Enough time to get some quick photos then continue our journey to Cairnryan and my date with the Stena Line ferry to Belfast.

Iconic castle by the sea

The Irish Sea was kind to me that day and the Belfast ferry was a pleasantly smooth trip. My three days in the capital of Northern Ireland were indeed, an eye-opening experience. I was there for a “Beyond Convention” of my travel club with the Troubles of Northern Ireland was the theme.  Belfast days were filled with periods of sun, followed by grey clouds and brief episodes of wind-driven drizzle.  

Professor Dominic Bryan of Queens University summarized well the crux of the conflict, though between Protestant and Catholic, as not religious, but a political and nationalistic struggle over the status of Northern Ireland. The “Unionists” were protestant and wanted Ireland to remain with the UK and the Nationalists were Catholic and wanted a separate Republic. The Irish Civil War of 1922/23 ended in partition of Ireland, which continues this day, but the violence associated with infamous “troubles” which paralyzed the region during the late 1960’s and early 1970’s. The “Good Friday” agreement finally ended the bloodshed with disarmament in 2005. There is a rumor that the US declaring the IRA as a “terrorist organization” following events of 9/11 in the US hastened the disarmament agreement a few years later. But tensions remain.

Segregation remains to this day in Northern Ireland. The southern part of the country has become the Republic of Ireland and part of the EU, the north, remains with the UK. To this day, schools and residential areas remain segregated in this Apartheid state. Contributing to the tensions in the country, Catholics live predominantly in the poorer agricultural areas and generally feel hard done by the Unionists. High concrete “peace walls” demarcate these separate areas – Catholic on one side, Protestant on the other. I saw similar walls separating Jerusalem from the West Bank. Not much peace there, either.

Apartheid map of Belfast

Superficially, Belfast is calm, but tensions remain. Visits were made to the Irish Republican History Museum where many remnants of the “struggle” were on display, and in contrast, a Museum of Orange Heritage (Unionist perspective). The Orange message to visitors was one of calm in the city, tensions were a thing of the past. However, when we privately asked a taxi driver what would happen if an Irish Republic flag were displayed in a Unionist neighborhood, he replied: “it would be vandalized within minutes”.

Memorabilia

How to compare Belfast with Dublin? At Belfast Grand Central Station, as I waited for my Dublin train, I fell into conversation with a middle-aged lady, native of Belfast, about comparing her city with its larger neighbor to the south. “Given our history, Belfast has developed into a lively cultural center, to a higher standard than Dublin, with a rich history.” She then commented on the high prices in Dublin – the third most expensive city in the EU.

It was the dreaded "engineering works", just over the border into the Republic, that delayed the departure of my Dublin-bound train by three days. While the border between the North and the Republic is unmarked, the contrast between Northern Ireland and the Republic became immediately evident from my train window.  The drab dark brown row housing typical of old English factory towns of the North gave way to modern single - family residences in towns of the Republic. In each town of the Republic, modern factories and warehouses dominated were prominent – very little economic development was visible in the North.

By comparison, Dublin is a much larger and cosmopolitan city than Belfast, with about 1.5 million population compared with just over 350,000 for Belfast. As an EU member (though not part of the Schengen area passport-free zone) Dublin’s focus is Europe and has attracted many international companies and its economy is strong, boasting of one of the highest per capita GDP in the EU. Told to me by a Belfast resident at the railway station, the Republic of Ireland has the third highest cost of living in the EU. I suppose that is another indicator of prosperity.

Last year, my neighbor posted a photograph of the “Tom Kennedy Bar” in Dublin; I just had to visit. The management welcomed me but demurred when it was suggested that I be awarded a free pint. Paid the price, drank up and went elsewhere for dinner.  The next day I recrossed the Irish Sea on the Irish Ferry Ulysses, sailing to the Welsh coast at Holyhead, then on to London by train. At the Welsh border, there was a surprisingly cursory passport check – no verification that I was in possession of the ETA (Electronic Travel Authorization) which was (is) required for US passport holders to enter the UK. But this is not surprising – many sea boarders seem to have lax immigration and security checks. A few months previous, I entered the state of Washington at Seattle by ferry from Vancouver Island. A visual passport check and no security inspection marked my US arrival.

A few minutes out of Holyhead, my London – bound train blasted through the village of Rhosneigr. My memories of that village conjured up a cold January night was spent in that village back in 1979, visiting Louis and Cathy Noel, painter of seascapes and ceramic artist.  Louis and I had a drive around the island of Anglesey (reportedly greater population of sheep than people), stopped in the Bull Bay Hotel restaurant for lunch. But since those days, Louis passed away in 2014; fate of Cathy is unknown. So Rhosneigr, full of memories, just whizzed past my window.

Not only in New York

Arrival back in London’s Euston, where my British rail adventure began just 10 days before. Easy transfer to my hotel on the Victoria Line and I settled in my tine London hotel room; then ventured out for a pub meal close by Victoria Station.

Victoria Station – Vivid memories of my trip on the famous “Night Ferry” in 1977. Called “the boat train” it consisted of sleeping cars direct from Victoria to Paris Gare du Nord operated by the Compagnie Internationale des Wagon-Lits with coaches shunted directly on to the rail ferry for the Channel crossing from Dover to Dunkirk. A relatively long crossing of over five hours in order to maintain a convenient arrival time in Paris at 09:00. Departing from platform 2 at Victoria, passport and customs inspections were performed on the platform so passengers were not disturbed during the night crossing. I must admit, when I rode this iconic train in 1977, sleep came with difficulty as the shunting on to and off the ferry was quite a noisy process – not conducive to restful sleep. But soon, the wheat fields of northern France were sliding past my window, and Gare du Nord was soon at hand.   

Having lived in London for six months (with two trips to Dhaka) in 1988 during a consulting assignment for a World Bank – funded project in Bangladesh (economic justification for constructing the Jamuna Bridge), London began to be familiar to me. During those days I lived in Kensington, commuting to the office on Southwark Street daily by bus or underground, I found many favorite spots in the city. Pubs for a quick beer, day trips out of the city on British Rail, Sunday afternoon concerts in the Church of Saint-Martins-in-the-Fields as well as full orchestral performances at the Royal Festival Hall. During my working days in London, I would often leave my office, stroll along the Thames to the Royal Festival Hall. If there was an interesting event, I would stop for the evening. If not, a walk across the Hungerford Bridge which would take me close to many friendly pubs near Charing Cross Station for an evening brew and dinner. Only in London can one find nearly every day a classical music concert or recital somewhere in the city.

Namesake bar in Dublin

This trip I arranged to attend two concerts in grand old churches: Vivaldi’s Four Seasons and Beethoven Piano Trio and a lunch with a long-time South African colleague, Dr David Simon, at a riverside café at the Royal Festival Hall The area is now known as the Southbank Centre, containing both the Royal Festival Hall and the Hayward Gallery.   

Last days in London consisted of meetings with a Canadian railway consulting company, a British railway fan, married to a Russian lady from Tashkent (friend of my wife) and a quick trip to the world’s largest map and travel bookstore, Stanford’s, in Covent Garden.

So, many people ask me: “which was the best place – England, Scotland or Ireland?” I think the proud words of my late colleague who shared my office in South Africa many yeara ago, Hugh Farquharson (from Aberdeen), ring true: “Les Ecossais sont superieurs”.

[1] Winston Churchill thus described the situation between the US and the UK in 1946

[2] From 1927 to 1945 Hill worked in various positions at Sudan Railways and in the British administration of Sudan and then taught at the University College of Khartoum, History of the Middle East until 1949. The Sudan Archive at Durham University was founded in 1957, the year after Sudanese independence, to collect and preserve the papers of administrators from the Sudan Political Service, missionaries, soldiers, business men, doctors, agriculturalists, teachers and others who had served or lived in the Sudan during the Anglo-Egyptian Condominium (1898-1955).

[3] According to the Daily Post on 1 September 2020: “The Bull Bay Hotel is said to be haunted by five ghosts. It was closed in 2016 and has lain empty since then. When open, local legend claimed it was haunted by a former owner and four other ghosts.” Perhaps one was Adolf Hitler and I did see his vision on that day?