1000 Brussels

Stayed the night in the Hilton Nottingham, a pleasant facade with a (presumably) Victorian/Edwardian hotel behind it. Comfortable enough, though the staff were fairly unhelpful. The oddest thing was that my room was too cold, while just outside the door the corridor was far too hot (it must have been 30 degrees at least). Somewhere, there is an air conditioning unit having a duel to the death with a boiler.

Then off to Mansfield on the Robin Hood Line, a (hurray!) reopened railway running between Nottingham and Worksop that reopened to passenger traffic in 2000. And very handy it is, too, though it won’t win any awards for scenery at the Nottingham end. The station building at Mansfield Town is particularly fine – opened by the Midland Railway in the late 19th century, but with the yellow local stone making it look a little bit Georgian.

Mansfield seems to be recovering a bit from the end of coal, with lots of redevelopment and many fast, boring roads. You can see the football ground, Field Mill from the railway station, which is rather lovely, although some of the terraced streets that presumably used to surround it have been replaced by pale-brick warehouses containing Burger King and Blockbuster.

Simon Jenkins, a columnist I usually disagree with, has a good article in today’s Guardian, in praise of the steam engine. Jenkins, who is fascinated by others’ fascination with trains, talks about the revolutionary nature of rail travel, and the engineering marvels that the great steam trains certainly were.

Now that the great steam trains of the past are mostly confined to pottering at 25mph along enthusiasts’ lines, like great pandas scratching out their fur in the zoo, I still think that there is something glorious about train travel. A Southern electric train may not be the great belching beasts of old, but it is still the social, communal form of travel, linking the hearts of cities and villages through hundreds of welcomes and departures, with thin iron lines, rushing over bridges and level crossings, a pure and solitary vehicle, no matter how many trains there are elsewhere on the network. For all the crowds and mess on the railways today (and ever), it’s a world away from the visual clutter and congestion of the roads, or the spare utilitarianism of air travel.

To Belfast for the wedding of Niamh Rooney and Bill Stewart. The wedding – and the city – is very friendly and welcoming. The city is still a little shabby and beaten up in places, but thankfully the bride and groom are not.

We stayed at the Crescent Townhouse, off Botanic Avenue, which is an unpretentious boutique hotel, if there is such a thing. The staff were very, very friendly and only occasionally inefficient – I’m still disappointed at not getting toast at breakfast on Saturday, almost as much as at the unrequested 0630 wake-up call.

Wandered around the shops on Saturday morning before taking the inevitable bus tour, which covered the murals on the Falls and Shankhill Roads as well as the more usual docks, city hall, etc. Saturday afternoon, we went out and about with Colin, a friend of Bill.

We started with an adequate coffee at the trendy but faintly annoying bar Apartment (Donegall Square West), and took a stroll round the City Hall. City Hall – rather OTT, and resembling the offspring of Leeds City Hall and Saint Paul’s Cathedral – is celebrating its 100th anniversary, and has an exhibition of its history which is almost interesting, but is horrendously let down by being entirely phrased in the first person (my city, my mayor, etc.). This might work for three years olds but doesn’t work for me – just reminds me of the My Computer icons and similar ghastliness.

We then headed down to the Ulster Museum. It’s a good museum, but it has bizarre opening times (only afternoons at weekends, but all day during the week?). Finally, out into the country for a stroll around Giant’s Ring, a fortification on the edge of Lisburn.

To Chelmsford for a meeting this afternoon, and lunch in the Acanteen cafe on New London Road (address). A nice stripped-wood cafe, with a good range of sandwiches and drinks. Didn’t try the coffee, but the ambience was very good. A scrambled egg on toast was OK, but a bit bland and accompanied by rather tough sausages. My host’s chicken soup looked better.