After I had recovered my composure about my second potential nude sleepwalking venture, we headed out of town, stopping at the glorious beach. Way too cold to swim, of course, but lovely to walk along:
A few hours drive from Portrush brought us finally to Londonderry/Derry, where Bloody Sunday happened. It's also one of the oldest walled cities in Europe and very pretty. We spent some time walking around the wall before we got our day's fix of political murals.
Meg atop the Roaring Meg:
Stopped in this pub briefly, where an old drunken lady sang along to the Westlife music video and asked H if she could kiss him:
We spent a long time watching this car get repo'd:
Finally, we got to the Bogside, home of the nationalist murals and the Free Derry corner:
There are many more where that came from, but I feel I've been overselling these murals. Finally, reluctantly, we left Derry and Northern Ireland. You could tell immediately when you crossed the border into the Republic, as the road got suddenly much narrower and shittier. We stopped in a supermarket for supplies right before Donegal and saw this notice by the bathrooms:
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