Waiting for the ferry I watch Strangford Lough tighten and boil whitely through a last narrow chute.  Somewhere beyond a horizon made brief by sullen clouds, it spills into the Irish Sea.  Beyond the crossing sits the Portaferry quay and behind it a steep hill.  It is a sunless Monday morning in October.  Bored commuters ignore the scent of salt water and the screaming gulls.  When they hear the bass rumble of the ferryboat’s diesel the m... Full Story