It was much more exciting driving up. There was the anticipation of the event. There was the pouring rain - always nice while driving. There was the thick fog - so thick that using my high beams made visibility worse. But the trusty app "Autoaddress" got me right to the destination.
This app is made specifically for driving in Ireland. As long as you have google maps on your smart phone, and I believe it's pretty much always included, you are good to get to anywhere you want - even on a boreen. I love that word.
So, you open the app, type your destination in the search bar (I put in House of Stories Ballyduff) and it finds the exact spot on the map and gives you the Eir Code - like a postal or zip code. Save it as a favourite, give it a name and add other details if desired. Ta-da. You are ready to roll. Same voice as the google lady telling you where to go - very very nicely.
This beats using a GPS because I'm not usually going to an address like we know in North America, like a street number and street name in a given town or city. I won't bother to bring the GPS next year - the phone will have to shoulder the directional burden.
Well, I got to the House of Stories in back of beyond in the dense fog. I was even on time. Because it was already dark I couldn't see exactly what it looked like but you could tell it was a white washed cottage with a red door and a thatched roof. Here it is:
http://www.storiesfromthehearth.ie/?page_id=12
Inside the fire was lit and catching nicely. The chairs were in place, including the rocker beside the fire, and all had cushions. I declined to occupy the rocker.
Paul opened the evening with a quick overview for newcomers - I was one of only a few and had indeed come the farthest if you think of my coming from Canada. He opened with a song and an explanation of the 'stick'. The stick is passed around and he who holds it holds the floor. When it comes to you there is no obligation to tell a story, sing a song, recite a poem, read something, etc. But this evening everyone did. I told the story of the 4 little old ladies driving at 22 kph. If I haven't told you that joke (I did embellish a little to make it into more of a story) remind me the next time we're together. It was well received.
Using my lovely guidance system I was able to easily navigate the way home. Actually I probably could have done it without a voice providing instructions. Aside from the "rural route" which had few alternatives on which to get lost (even for me), I'm very familiar with the route.
I had met John O'Neill in Greystones for lunch and commissioned some research in Dublin. He is familiar with the archives, library, registry of deeds and valuation office and can accomplish in a short time what would take me a long time.
I was supposed to get an allergy shot but got a phone call while in The Burnaby Pub in Greystones, that the doctor had been called away on an emergency. They won't administer allergy shots unless there is a doctor present in case of a bad reaction. I've never had a bad reaction and the office is in a medical building practically bustling with medical personnel and a pharmacy well loaded with epi-pens. However, I now have an appointment for tomorrow morning at 9:45. and the clinic is an hour's drive away. That is if the weather is good, road conditions are fine and there are no traffic tie ups. I shall depart here 90 minutes before the appointment just to be sure.
After that I'll drive back to the Rocktavern and Tom Byrne is going to take me to Three Wells near Aughrim to see where his uncle Pat used to live. I will also catch up on some family news and stories during our journey.
Thursday evening I shall become educated about the Hedge Rows of Ireland and their ecological contribution and actually why they need to be there. They mark off every field and line all the roads, or at least the rural ones. That's on at the library so if it's not raining I'll walk. Parking there is very limited - five cars. Of course there may be fewer than 5 of us being enlightened that evening.
So what did I do last week that went unreported? If I had a good memory I could probably tell you. Let me think a moment. Ah yes - the talk in Castledermot. Well worth the journey and I learned how to pronounce Teach. You probably think that is the verb meaning "instruct" and that I should be able to pronounce it. Hah! Not in Irish it's not. The community centre in Castledermot is Teach Diarmada. Dermot's House. Teach is pronounced, more or less, "cheock".
Clem Roche gave a great talk on the various resources one could/should use to compile the family history if you were from that area. My Fennells are from a location quite nearby so I was all ears. I learned a few new things - mostly that I'd hire John O, so I did that today.
It was a lovely group of people and I enjoyed chatting with several of them after the meeting. It was Pancake Tuesday so they had chocolate crepes. Yum! I certainly had not made myself any pancakes.
On Wednesday afternoon I met with Ronnie Shorten, a woman who has documented her family history beautifully and from what I could tell, completely. Of course, they were pretty much all from that area and she had the benefit of access to the church registers for years. Now, nobody can access the registers themselves. Some churches have printed indexes, some just point you to the National Library in Dublin for microfilm, the smart ones remind you that the registers are now online for free, and some just ignore requests. Ronnie has put together photos, documents, letters and records and certificates into very elegant scrap books. I hope to be able to produce something as lovely for my family.
We had a wonderful afternoon, after which I went to the Farrell's home for supper and conversation around the fireplace.
And so dear readers, we are pretty much caught up. Let me just dig up a photo or two for illustration and then I'll leave you for now.
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