I had a few Sunday School excursions about late 1960s, train rides with Mum from Portrush to places like Belfast Zoo and maybe Shane’s Castle. We didn’t do big holidays, I think no car in those years, so I guess those were special days out, but sorry to say I don’t remember them much. Me, I didn’t travel well, and too long on the swings at Belfast Zoo, in the evening I had a dizzy turn and vomited into the kitchen sink. I suppose that was better than being sick in the living room over the carpet and furniture. Not sure if mum saw it in that positive way though.
Sheila Kane says that she “only ever went on one Sunday School excursion – and hated it. About 5 years old, to Belfast Zoo, in the old days when it was basically a compact, smelly, animal prison. It rained all day and I’m sure the animals for once in their lives felt better off than us, as at least they had shelter. We had lunch in some hall somewhere, with over-sweet, iced buns and limp sandwiches – one of which was Mars Bar and apple – two perfectly lovely treats, sandwiched between two thickly buttered slices of white bread – just wrong!
“Later, the homeward journey, we stopped at a café with long, refectory-type tables and had chips and deep fried chicken drumsticks … fine at the time, but later not so pleasant to see regurgitated on the bus by a travel-sick child a few seats in front of us. It may have been this experience that put my mother off taking me on excursions, and the Troubles meant excursions only came to Portrush, not left from Portrush. The late 70s my mum and my wee sister ventured on a few excursions so I guess things and venues had improved – thankfully by that time I had a Saturday job and was unable to accompany them!!”
The story of trains to Portrush is of excursions there from towns and cities all over Northern Ireland. The first train to Portrush was 1855, to great rejoicing. But soon, demand was overwhelming! The Sabbath School excursion day in July 1857 was of upwards of 10,000 children arriving in the Port. But it was a disaster: the teachers were run ragged; there was a swimming fatality; trains were ultra- over-loaded, so many people standing, with people perched on the roof; 3 hour queues for the train at Portrush, with kids just arriving at Coleraine station at midnight; and in the days of disconnected train operators, the walk over the river to the other station for the Derry train, but the last one has already gone. Arrangements? – ‘the absence of all of them’. The day is described as ‘execerable”.
A hundred years later, much improved! There is nice home movie footage of the excursion by steam train from Strabane to Portrush in 1953, Coronation year. Social history though, the 1950s were the end of the Causeway tram and of the steam trains; and Dr. Beeching Cutts arrived in the ’60s; and car ownership was increasing, and foreign holidays, and in the sizzling 70’s the Recreation grounds and swings and cinema were starting to open on Sundays to relax and enjoy, replacing strict and solemn Sabbaths, and those special excursions came to an end.
Most of this Portrush Tales series are written from point of view of Portrushian. But here, the writer is Iris Elizabeth – her of Hunt The Workers of CSSM fame – and she writes from her perspective of living elsewhere, Aghadowey, and of coming to Portrush for the annual Sunday School excursion, in the early 1960s.
David: hmmm, so what do I know of Aghadowey? Well I remember as a kid going to the stock car and bike racing on a Saturday evening, getting carried back through the crowds on dad’s shoulders. And a Bushmills school trip to a creamery – was it to Aghadowey or was it Ballyrashane? – and that in their lab area Philip Liken fainted at the sight of all the milk and fell,
So, Iris: “Well, I was raised in the heart of the Aghadowey countryside, in the village of Cullycapple, where with the other children I attended Cullycapple Primary School. How many children attended their primary school during the summer months in the 1960s? Well we did, for it was home to the Cullycapple Afternoon Sabbath School, run by Aghadowey Presbyterian Church, under the watchful eye of the Minister, Dr Davey, and also Mrs Hunter of Mullaghinch.
“Mrs Hunter saw to it that we attended the annual Church Children’s Day in Church in May. For the girls in particular, it was an occasion for new clothes. I well recall my blue crimplene “costume”, jacket with pleated skirt, worn with white ankle socks and patent shoes, topped off by my cousin Sandra’s discarded blue floppy hat. I would wear that same outfit, minus hat, on the annual Sunday School Excursion to Portrush, the following month. No T-shirt and shorts ensembles for us!
“Each local Church had its own Excursion Day, and ours was the last Friday in June. A day off school with the Head’s full approval! Another bonus – you boarded a double-decker bus and were allowed to sit on the top deck! Trips by bus were reserved for dentist and medical visits normally, and that bus was a single decker.
“We progressed along the country roads, picking up children and Mums (never Dads) from large farms and from smaller cottages, through Coleraine, and on to Portrush – and that moment coming past Magheraboy where the sea came into view brought an excitement that stays fresh in my mind until this day.
“Once in town, we were deposited opposite Barry’s. We were generally with the Warke family from next door, four youngsters ranging from two years older than me, to the baby. In my teens I would have gone to help another neighbour Mrs McKergan with her four.
“An early lunch was served in the Methodist Church halls, This was a boon to those mothers who could not have afforded café prices – some churches gave money for the meals instead. My now husband, aged about 9 then, saved his pocket money and bought his Mum a “meat tea” in a café near where the Ramore is today – a sweet child indeed! Our meals consisted of tea, no juice as I remember, with finger sandwiches (the bliss of not being forced to eat crusts), and an assortment of buns. This was served twice, and no complaints ever made about the same food being produced later on. It was a veritable treat for country youngsters made hungry by the unaccustomed sea air.
“Some had saved for a full year and made a beeline for the amusements – we didn’t see them for the rest of the day. We generally headed to the West Strand. There was a little shop where buckets and spades were purchased. The previous year’s never survived an Aghadowey winter, being used as year-round playthings. I had my cousin Sandra’s out-grown swimsuit – yes, I was a small replica of Sandra throughout childhood – a natty ruched blue nylon affair, and on arrival on the beach, was wrapped up in a towel and modestly attired in it by my enthusiastic Mother, who loved the sea and the beach. She never did realise that her child hated the feel of sand, and that “about to fall over” sensation when the water lapped the ankles! Mother and her friends paddled in stockinged feet, wearing their best “costumes” and relished the experience. Sandcastles were always built, and topped off by any convenient shells, feathers or pebbles. And of course, you had to write your name on the sand with that spade.
“All year round we saved for the day. I’m sure for some families saving those pennies that was a challenge but on that day we were equals, buckets and spades in our hands, replete with finger sandwiches and wee buns. The Queen’s own children were no happier than us.
“The afternoon was thus spent disposing of those pennies. Aged seven or eight, with my old toffee tin money box rattling in a very satisfying way, I treated myself to my first bottle of perfume called “California Poppy” which despite its modest cost bore more than a passing resemblance to Opium of more recent times! Steel bracelets, and wee cars for personal use, and mugs with seaside slogans for fathers and grandparents back home were purchased. Plus, that essential – the Portrush rock, pink, tooth-breaking, cellophane-wrapped with that little picture of the port on the side. A must-buy for Aunties, big siblings, or for yourself to remind you of this glorious day.
“A candy floss was another essential buy, at the Arcadia, but not good on a windy day! And I was not allowed this indulgence until after the photographer had taken the obligatory picture for posterity. He would wait around at the Arcadia, with a camera round his neck, and took photos of most excursion folks, and after the exchange of money and address, the print would arrive a few days later by post.
“Next stop, the kiddies’ pool – paddling in your Sunday best, so no splashing allowed, and a highlight for me with my dislike of sea paddling.
“A run into Barry’s would be thrown in too. I had no head for heights and shamed my mother by having to be rescued by the man who ran the Helter-skelter from half-way up the stairs. Mum had worked in Portrush in the 50s and she always maintained that the Ghost Trains made for a top adventure, but I was the timid sort, and the neighbour’s children were full of mischief, so that ride was always side-lined.
“After another Methodist tea, back at the bus stop, now too tired to consider that climb to the top deck, for the return journey.
“Looking back, people can go to Portrush any time nowadays. Family cars are the order of the day, and you can even go the beach for an hour after school. Busy people go on Sundays, which would have horrified our older generations. Children don’t have to wear white frilly socks on the beach, and sea-side food is a chippy tea. Paddling pools are the blow-up variety for the back garden, and as for a photographer, no need as the average family takes photos on the phone.
“But I reckon that what we gained in prosperity and ease of access, we lost other ways. The community spirit that prevailed as we joined together as children on that double-decker bus ride was something special. The provision for the less well-off families, and the often work-weary farmer’s wives, in those Methodist Hall teas. The happy memories invoked by that photograph in the family album. The sheer joy of glimpsing the sea meeting the sky from the top of a bus, and the seed of knowledge being sown, that this was indeed the handiwork of a Creator God, who made all things, humanity included, and declared them “very good”.”
David: Oh thank you so much Iris for the great memories there, so evocative! So interesting, the perspective of someone coming to Portrush for special annual excursion day, compared to locals, familiar and perhaps spoiled with access to beach and Barry’s etc.
Me, I think of the issues that you mention – of society, of community mindedness, of looking out for one another, supporting those maybe not so well-off at the moment – those same themes and needs, they just change and morph and develop, but are still here. Maybe I look and see the needs met via great community work and activites, led by workers and church folk and organisations like REACH in Portrush, and charity work, charity shops raising funds, Christmas shoeboxes, food support, volunteeers, youth workers, activity leaders, sports groups, etc., working to support others and make life that bit better.
But I have been away from Portrush for quite a while, especially in these grotty Covid times, and maybe others can add in their views and memories on all that.
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David: I reckon excursions were going out of fashion and faded away come the Troubles, but my neighbour Helena writes of her excursion, mid-60s:
Helena Alcorn Espie: Well yes I remember Sunday School Excursion. How exciting! Train trip to Belfast and a pocket full of money given to me by several relatives and I would be wearing my best clothes (I always loved dressing up – hence pantos!).
I remember having a carriage to ourselves – me, Mum, Dad – and you could put the window down and look out. The journey seemed long and there were tunnels along the way which plunged you into darkness. Belfast was amazing so many people and BIG shops. Woolworths. C&A and others. I always seemed to get a tennis racket and balls and pick ‘n mix sweets at Woolies. We would have had lunch somewhere.
On arrival back at the train station to go home we would talk to the others about the day out and I would see what other children had. I would be tired on journey back to Portrush.
Portrush Tales 
Perhaps Iris would be interested to know that I passed at least two weeks each year between about 1956 and 1971 with my uncle and aunt, Hugh and Ethel Torrens and cousins Lorna, Margaret and William at Mayoughill – a village about 3 miles from Cullycapple. My Mum (Rae McConaghy) who features in some of the other articles was formerly Rae Torrens, and was born and raised in Mayoughill !
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I love this one David,
One of my favourites in your series!
The sickness! 😂 I think every child (and adult with sick bag at the ready) can relate to this.
The anticipation, excitement and rich food all jumbled up in our tummies – ignited by the movement of travel whether it be car bus or train. Cool!
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