Winding down and grinding to a halt

Only a few days to go and I'll be winging homeward. The pace has been quite leisurely up to now. How did I manage to cram this last week full of 'engagements'? Don't get me wrong, every moment is wonderful but still compelling me to "get a move on".

Sunday turned out to be a nice day. Along with Mary G. I headed to Castledermot and the Old Yard for the Christmas market. The drive via Tullow was uneventful - and that's always a good thing. Mary was my GPS and we didn't make a single wrong turn. I wonder if she's available to hire for future outings?

Anyway, guided by the parking lot attendants we backed into the designated parking spot which included a kind of barricade and so the front of my vehicle featured more prominently in the roadway that the neighbouring cars. Ah well ... it didn't get hit and it is easier to leave if you spent the time to reverse into the spot. It's also safer - especially when the "roadway" is narrower than it should be for cars to manoeuvre in and out.

We wandered to the entrance and got our complimentary drinks. Mary chose the mulled wine, and as I was the driver, my beverage of choice was the spiced apple something or other. Very tasty. They were even served in glasses - real glasses made of glass, not plastic. Bravo!

There were some lovely crafts and eco-friendly products. The prices were rather on the higher side so let me just say that my financial future was not jeopardized at all by this event.

From there - as it was smaller than anticipated, we headed to Rathwood. Once again the only purchase was a couple of cappucinos - all dolled up with some hazelnut and chocolate which magically transformed our beverages into "coffee of the day" - and boosted the price. I must say we were not disappointed in the taste,, or the small piece of accompanying chocolate - with hazelnuts.

Monday included dinner out at Carnew Community Care as the guest of Kathy D. Ann and Tom B. were also there. After dinner Tom joined the group playing '45'. Ann and I provided the spectators. I've watched the game a few times now and still have no idea how to play. Well, maybe some idea, but not enough to join in. They played for matchsticks - which were returned to the box at the end of the game. What????

Sister Josephine gave me a lovely gift for helping her with her family history. I really didn't do much. The gift was quite unnecessary but will be a permanent souvenir. It's a lovely silver cross with a little angel - a Christmas decoration that has Happy Christmas, written a couple of different ways, in Irish. Now I have to get a Christmas tree to hang it on.

From there, after taking possession of some lovely soda bread that Kathy had made that morning, I drove to the Rocktavern and met Ann. We headed to Camolin to look for suitable gifts to bring home. And then we went to Gorey, on the same mission. I won't tell you whether or not it was mission accomplished. I don't know who's reading this. I don't wish to either disappoint or raise hopes.

Then I had a pizza supper with the Parsons and we talked of fairies and I learned a lot from Michael about an interesting series of books he's reading. And I got a little bit of inspiration for more stories. I also left behind some numbered photos so that should Michael be inspired with ideas, he can pass them along to me.

From there I went to Coolross to spend a short time with Mary and Jim and to bid them farewell until my next visit - no plans are afoot and it's could be quite some time before I return. Or not.

The drive home was easy and peaceful and I did not meet a single other vehicle on the drive home. I was particularly careful in the blind approach to the bridge in Clonegal but the only other traffic was some leaves blowing around.

I knew the forecast predicted rain and wind for this morning. It certainly was accurate. I think this storm even had a name - but of course I don't recall what it is/was. The rain pelted and the wind blew and the clouds nosedived to the ground. No hills were visible out the kitchen window. Gibbet's Hill had disappeared. It all blew through really quickly and was followed by sunshine - nature's apology for the mess created by the wind and water.

I joined John O for coffee in Tinahely, got a cash injection from the Bank of Ireland ATM, stopped by Aldi for some milk and, yes Flowers, more of that lovely chocolate.

Now I'll tidy up and try to finish my book so that I can return it on time to the library.

Tomorrow - Ashford. Thursday Arklow. Friday Dublin. Saturday Ottawa. How time flies.

I will try to complete this series on Friday night when happily tucked up at the Clayton hotel near the airport.

Now to catch up a bit

The weather has not been wonderful but there have been some bright spots. I finally warmed up after the Glasnevin tour. We've had a few days with the same temperatures but without any wind they seemed much warmer.

On Tuesday I had a brief phone call with Andy Kehoe. He showed up at the cottage with a few photocopied papers of his known family history. I simply can't get over the amazing lengths to which the Irish go to be helpful. Unfortunately there isn't enough information to make the link with his family. Any possibility of tracking down this line seems to be fading fast.

Wednesday I invited family members to come over for supper. It was a wonderful evening. Although at first planning to make a hot dinner, I settled for a cold supper as not everyone could get here at the same time. There was plenty for everyone, topped up with a couple of bottles of wine. Only two of us had any of it - I didn't have to drive and Tom had Ann as his chauffeur. I did manage to have some food make its way home with the guests. As I write, I'm waiting for a casserole to cook to use some of the remaining leftovers.

Thursday morning I was hot on the trail of the fairies. Actually there are some who may think that I'm "away with the fairies" most of the time. Outside of Monaseed National School, the edges of the parking lot have been converted to Caroline's fairy trail. I was greeted by Caroline herself.

Many a fairy door, all individually and meticulously painted and decorated, are hiding the lives of the occupants on the other side. Their stories are almost ready to be told. Besides the fairy houses there are also painted rocks. What a lovely place for children to see on the way to school. 

In the evening I picked up Kathy Doyle, drove to the RockTavern to collect Ann and Tom and we all headed to Craanford community centre to see the play Don't Tell the Wife. It was a hilarious comedy, a farce really. The acting was terrific. For me the scene stealer was Seamus Burnell. That man does more acting with his facial expressions and body language than many actors do in three acts. Of course, as a farce, there was always mistaken identity. There were only two jokes I didn't catch because of the accents. All in all a fabulous evening for 10 Euro. That's about $16 Canadian dollars. Talk about a bargain.

They even served tea and sweets at the break but we refrained. We did buy raffle tickets and were, strangely enough, not winners. The wine and chocolates all went to other people. Perhaps I'm saving up for a big lottery win one of these days. I guess I should consider getting a ticket.

Friday I had a short visit with John McKenna and if all goes well we'll have one more visit to Kilkenny to meet and talk with his sisters. Amazing how you just hit it off well with some people and these are related to me. We have the DNA test results to prove it.

I have been devouring Louise Penny's books for the second time. And in the process discovered one that I had either completely forgotten or had never read at all. It's hard to put them down. I won't be able to re-read all before I get home, but hopefully won't have to wait too long before a copy is available at the library. I'll keep checking the express read section too.

This afternoon the weather looked iffy but it wasn't wet. I strolled into town to the library to attend a creative writing workshop by Sheila Forsey, a local author. I have to try to find a copy of her book Mending Lace. Along with excellent handouts, were several book recommendations. I don't think they are all Irish so hopefully I'll be able to get them at home.

And now my dinner is ready and it's time to dine and then perhaps to write. There is nothing planned for tomorrow but if the sun happens to shine I'll be on the road to somewhere.

The long and winding road

The title of this post could be used to describe almost every little journey I've made in Ireland. Even with clear directions, I get confused on the roads. "Just keep straight on the road" can mean that you go straight no matter how what the road you're on seems to lead you to follow it around that curve. Or it can mean just keep on whatever seems to be the same road. The possibilities are not as simple as coming to an intersection and driving straight on through. Subtle bends get me every time.

I'd been invited to go to the townland of Bohermore to visit the ruins of the McDonald family home. It's still not clear if was the home once owned by "my" McDonalds. The original family had left by 1850 but seem to have moved back sometime later. It is unlikely I'll ever know for sure.

Anyway, given the instructions to turn at The Fighting Cocks pub/restaurant where the sign points to Nurney, I was quite confident. I did not have the Eircode for the precise destination. but I turned at the right place and began to follow the road. Soon it turned to the right and the fork to the left seemed less promising. I went with the right angle. That was my first mistake. I did eventually, after another few turns, get to Nurney. I should have stopped and called from there. That would have been too easy.

I asked a couple walking along the road and got another clear set of directions. Those also did not take me where I wanted to go. I gave up then and and made my call for help.

Seems that I had misunderstood pretty much everything after "turn left at The Fighting Cocks". When I phoned, arrangements were made to meet in Nurney. Only problem was I wasn't certain of how to get back there. I had not dropped breadcrumbs. The luck of the Irish was with me because I did manage to get back to the village, to the Inn as discussed, and was met there by Steven. From there I followed him to his farm and he took me to see the McDonald ruins. I duly took a photo but I'm still not certain where there is a connection to that particular family.

Of course Steven's hospitality first included a cup of coffee and a biscuit and a bit of conversation. It was a lovely time all in all. The instructions for getting back were to follow the narrow road beside his property - always going straight through. Lo and behold, I was back at the Fighting Cocks in only a few minutes. That was the road I should have taken in the first place. 

The views were lovely, the hospitality as warm as ever so the day was a success. 

Sunday dawned clear and sunny and pretty cold. The temperature was apparently 9C. I'm not sure where in Bunclody that measure was taken. It felt more like -9C with the wind. But it was sunny for almost the first time in three weeks.

In the afternoon I set out to meet Colm O'Rourke who is responsible for the Coolkeeno FB page. I was hoping he might have some knowledge passed down over the generations, of where Fitzwilliam tenants might have originated. 

I met him at Egan's pub where Mary joined us in conversation. I learned some details about the area, that it's quite possible that my Kehoe connection may even have been from the Liscolman area which is pretty close to Coolross. That is nowhere near where all other contacts pointed. Ah well - some things will always remain a mystery. 

From Colm I did learn of an interesting site: www.ducas.ie . In the 1930s it was thought a good idea, by government, to record old folk tales and stories of life around the country. School children were encouraged to learn the stories from their elders. The result is an ever-growing repertoire of now-digitized hand-written stories of many aspects of Irish life. You can easily lose yourself in those pages - and I plan to do that quite often.

Then it was supposed to be a quick trip to Coolross to return the Wellies that I hadn't needed the previous week. Mary and Oliver were visiting and I ended up staying for supper. I am hoping to be able to repay, in small measure, the Byrne hospitality on Wednesday evening.

Today it was a trip to Glasnevin Cemetery in Dublin. Mary Gilsenan came with me as she had never been there. We took the regular historical tour. Our guide was Paddy and he was excellent. We were a small group of about 15 people, mostly Irish but there were a couple of Americans and me. 

The day was very overcast and the chilliest yet. I'd worn four layers, all of which I needed. I was wishing I'd brought my toque. Standing in the cold wind while listening to the myriad of tales caused my knees to get stiff - along with pretty much every other part of me. We were rewarded with a lovely lunch (thank you Mary) of soup and brown bread followed by coffee and a macaroon.

Now that we were fortified with nourishment, we set out to find the grave of Arthur Byrne and his wife Bridget Corcoran. An online search had provided the information needed to find it. Staff at the Glasnevin Museum provided directions. I was not surprised to find that they were laid to rest in almost the farthest possible corner of the cemetery.

Over 1.6 million people of all religions and no religion, have been laid to rest there. That cemetery came into existence because of Daniel O'Connell - a tremendous hero in the Republic of Ireland. It has expanded greatly in the succeeding centuries. The records kept are meticulous and one can find every single person who was interred there. I learned that the surname Byrne is the most numerous among all of the "residents" of the cemetery. However I had enough details from research to find the right Byrne. 

We walked a few thousand steps and found a marked headstone which would have been about 8 to 10 feet from the resting place of Arthur and Bridget. They have no headstone and the area is not well cared for. I took a photo but will not include it here. Suffice it to say, we know where they are but it is very sad to see the spot.

Finally we made our way back to the car and stopped to view a few spots along the way. The military monuments to the Irish who fell in battle to save France were lovely and touching. The most difficult area is that of the Angels - burials of young children. It's possible that Arthur and Bridget's baby son Michael is among them but I have not found a record. I'll be in touch with the cemetery office to find out if that can be verified.

The trusty Autoaddress app got us safely out of Dublin. I only missed one turn, but bossy pants (the voice of Google maps) was able to tell me where to go. The rest of the trip was uneventful.

I spent an unproductive evening watching an episode of Midsommer Murders. Now it is time to retire with my book - and return briefly to the world of Three Pines. Louise Penny fans will know what that is. I'm re-reading her books while waiting for my name to come up with a copy of her latest book. It should arrive at the Ottawa Public Library around the time of my return. Hopefully I'll get it before Christmas.

And so to bed.

Two for two

Genealogy alert

No fun travel or pictures and if you don't have any interest in my digging up family roots - and why on earth would you - then enjoy your day.

I mailed two letters, on Tuesday, to folks I hoped would be able to provide some information on a connection. Kudos to the Irish postal system. Both were delivered the next day. The 2 Euro investment in stamps has paid off. They were written McDonalds in Bohermore, Co Carlow and Kehoes in Corragh, Co Wexford. Figuring that a letter is non-intrusive and would not compel anyone to reply, I tried that route.

I am batting two for two. Yesterday I spoke with Andy Kehoe, from Corragh, and it seems likely that is the right family. It will be a while but hopefully his children will take the time around Christmas to send the information. Andy doesn't use computers. I did call Mary Mackey, the historian from Gorey whose name and number Andy gave me.

Mary is a human historical encyclopedia. She is connected to the same Kehoes and seems to know more than most books I've consulted. We set up a date for this afternoon at the Bookshop Cafe in Gorey. Parking will be a nightmare but I'll leave early. Apparently Gorey is a shopper's paradise so I'll have a wander about. 

I spent considerable time browsing church records for parishes surrounding Clonegal, hoping to find the marriage of Arthur Byrne and Eliza Kehoe. Brides always, well nearly always, married in the parish of their family and she was not necessarily from Clonegal. However, if she was from Corragh, then Clonegal would have been the parish. The records started in 1833 when they already had five children. I do have the baptisms of the youngest four. Among those were the Kehoe sponsors, Owen and Martin. That is my link. 

Art and Eliza's son Edward, my great great grandfather, had a son named Martin. They must have got the name from a family connection as that is how names were chosen back then. It's a small link but it's there. Sadly, Martin must have died as a young child because while he was baptised in 1876, he was not in the 1881 census. Deaths were not necessarily noted in church records. I will have to consult the Archives of Ontario for this one. But I digress.

This morning I had a phone call from a neighbour of the Bohermore letter recipient. Denis said that the McDonald I wrote to "married into that land" so is not related. The name just happens to match. However, Denis is connected to McDonalds who are no longer there. It seems from what he can remember, that several of them had no children or didn't marry or moved out of the county and they are all long gone. There is a ruin of the McDonald home on the townland.  Now I must decide if I want to go and see it. I'll wait until the weather improves - today shows little promise at the moment. 

Denis is also going to consult with his mother to see if she knows anything. I am considering the idea of meeting him for a cup of coffee (likely tea for him) as his accent is a bit difficult for me to understand over the phone. He did call back but must have been outside in the wind so I couldn't make out what he was saying and the call got disconnected.

So - here I sit with the least tasty cup of coffee I've ever made, pondering how to organize the day. So many random thoughts floating around in the empty space where my brain should be. First order of business - dispose of the coffee.

Did I mention that I'm going to Glasnevin on Monday with Mary Gilsenan? We'll take the tour and then I'll try to find the grave of Arthur Byrne and his wife Bridget Corcoran. I have the record and grave ID from the cemetery. I'll also see if I can find that of their infant son Michael who lived only two weeks and died a few months before his father. Both Arthur and Bridget were only in their 30s when they died. He was felled by heart disease and she succumbed to bronchitis. The street where they lived with her family, is no longer there so I can't visit. Then again - I wonder if it just has a different name. I guess it's time to get online with the old OSI maps and try to overlay it on the modern version. 

It's raining it's pouring - and not just the wet

Genealogy alert

I have not been out and about in the past few days, other than to libraries and such. Travel has been strictly business. The weather has been awful and no photos have been taken. I have re-attached the dashcam but of course didn't have it on when I encountered the Hunt last Sunday.

The following are notes to myself, so you might as well toddle off and find something more interesting to do.

I've been in pursuit of Walsh and MdcDonald connections hereabouts. The information I'd collected prior to arrival remains almost all of what I know at this point. I did get some information from my researcher (thank you John O.) but although it has likely significance it is not absolute. The fact that there were three McDonalds on a townland way back in the 1820s does not mean that they were necessarily related, let alone brothers or first cousins. As in my other ancestral lines they were fond of using a given list of first names, so rarely strayed from that list of about 10 names. Always the same names. Not even one of them was unique.

I'd been planning to go to the National Library in Dublin after leaving Bunclody but it seems that I was following poor information and there would be nothing in the collection I'd thought of ordering. So, having seen quite a lot of Dublin over the years, I will now be flying home on Dec 1 and not stopping in Dublin at all. There will be future trips should I wish to see more. If I find another lead I'll find a local researcher to do the work for me.

On FB I noticed a post that had Fennells mentioned. Following up produced another dead end - wrong family. However, since I last pursued that elusive bunch, more records have come online. Perhaps somewhat more than I was prepared for. Not all are the right ones but the nuggets are there so careful separation of wheat from chaff should lead to progress. I had brief palpitations when I found the name "Gwendolyn" but now it seems that she is not part of the right line. Darn. Back to Mary, Margaret, Ann and Eliza.

Since connecting with the Byrne family 10 years ago, and the McGraths earlier this year, I still hold on to the hope that I will find more living connections to family lines. Are there Fennells, Whelans, Kehoes out there waiting to meet me?

When you are willing to engage in conversation and have a friend who seems to know everyone in Leinster, and probably everywhere else too, good things happen. Marg keeps me supplied with names to call but without an actual connection to them I'll leave the cold-calls to her.

The fruitless visit to the Bagenalstown library did yield a name. There is a family now on the townland I'm interested in, with the same surname as the 'missing' ancestors. Not wanting to bother them by showing up in their lane, or even calling out of the blue, I decided to write a letter.

At the time I had no intention of actually writing. I was planning to type it. However, the printer is no longer cooperating at all and I had to physically put pen to paper. I actually did it twice. Yesterday I mailed two letters. The second was almost on a whim because I'd contacted them once before.

You just never know. Today I got a call from the Kehoe connection and he has some information. [My compliments to the Irish postal service for less than 24 hour service.] The names I mentioned were used in his family. Lots of them have gone to the US - back even before the famine and many since. He does have some information and is going to have his children email it to me around Christmas. Yay. He also gave me the name of another lady, deeply into history and genealogy, who lives in Gorey. I'm going to phone her shortly. Fingers crossed.

Not being one to do anything in a straight line, I put aside the previous families to work briefly this morning on an old Irish connection in Quebec. It was my ggg grandmother Bridget Loughnane who married Jean Baptiste Hebert. One of the witnesses at her wedding just might turn out to have been her half-brother. It may be that she came to Canada with him sometime before 1832. The life of a genealogist may not involve a lot of physical exercise (yes I know, I have to move around more), but the brain gets knotted and twisted and worked out quite a lot.

Now here I am nice and dry inside out of the wind. There is absolutely nothing appealing about today's weather. 

Now to make that phone call and get on with things.

Catching up

The weekend was mostly genealogy but not my own. I helped someone find a few missing records. Got some names on old Byrne photos and stepped back into Egan's pub for some traditional Irish music in the evening.

Pat Jordan and Finian's Rainbow were featured on Saturday night. He's from just around the corner from the pub but has been living in England for a long time. He's developed a successful career as an entertainer. He certainly didn't disappoint on Saturday night.

The new Irish drinking and driving laws were responsible for me sticking to a glass of tonic water as my beverage of choice. I was among the first to leave around midnight. The party showed no signs of slowing down despite the advertised time being 9 pm to midnight.

On the drive back to Bunclody I encountered only one other car. As luck would have it, the 'meeting' was on the narrow stone bridge in Clonegal. Twenty kilometers of road, and there was only one oncoming vehicle. It underlined what I believe to be one of the driving rules in Ireland. If you are meeting another vehicle on a country road it will happen in one of three places. And on a stone bridge is one of them. A few seconds difference in time and the meeting would have been on a wider stretch of road. Ah well ... it was a 'no contact' event as we were both travelling slowly enough to negotiate the narrow space available.

The rest of the trip was uneventful despite a lot of ground fog, meaning I couldn't see if I used high beams. 

Sunday dawned bright and sunny. That lasted until about noon. In the morning I picked up Marg and Jane and we attended Remembrance Day services in Gorey. From there it was into the back of beyond - or so it seemed.

There was some hesitation of how to get to The Gap. No - not the store. It is a pub located somewhere that required a lot of driving on fun little roads unbothered by the lack of a centre white line for the most part. Google Maps and Navigation provided assistance.

It also just happened to be the one day of the year of The Hunt!. We had to stop to allow dozens of horses and very trimly dressed riders who were following a pack of hounds. I'm not sure how they arrange for a fox to be in the right place to be followed, or whether there even was a fox. I couldn't get a straight answer.

And to skip ahead a few hours, we met them and had to stop again on the way back. During the intervening hours it was often raining. We were either in a pub or in the car when the rain was heavy. The hunters weren't so lucky but they were a dedicated lot.

The pub was a wonderful very old pub. The decor was eccentric and just what one would ask for in such a place. The story goes that it was once - if I recall correctly - a barracks or a military building of some kind. 

Our table  - I guess they like creative customers

Back part of The Barn at The Gap

At the appointed time, we met Tom Cullen who is a local historian. In between the raindrops we travelled to see some historic sites in the townland of Croghan. This place was subject to evictions in the 1870s. There was no assisted passage for these farmers. The landlord tossed them out with no regard for their future. 

There was even a murder as a tenant tried to resist the eviction of his family.

From the 1880s to the turn of the century a sustained campaign for land reform was carried out by the Land League under Michael Davitt and the Irish Parliamentary party under Parnell. The Croghan evictions took place in 1887 during which a large number of tenants were evicted from the Brooke Estates in Ballyfad and Coolgreany. At this time also John Kinsella of Croghan was murdered by the Emergency men supporting the landlords.

There are some ruins of homes abandoned by the evicted tenants. Others have been restored and renovated. The views are spectacular, leaving me to wonder how anyone could have treated the farmers so cruelly when just looking around should make you feel at peace.

We were in and out between Wicklow and Wexford all afternoon. Here Tom and I are in different counties. I can't remember which of us was in Wicklow and which in Wexford.

It was a truly unique experience being shown a lot of very significant pieces of local history. Tom let us know that he would make himself available again if we wanted to extend this tour.

This morning it was time to exchange the nasty little Opal for a real car. Without much ado, but with lots of rain, I made my way to Wexford and the Hertz office.

I'm now driving a lovely VW Golf. I'd said it didn't matter if it was manual or automatic. It's an automatic. I'll keep it until my return trip to Dublin. It is very peppy and responsive and has a diesel engine. This will save me a LOT of money in fuel. Petrol is about 1.48 a litre and diesel is about 1.38 and provides much better mileage as well.

Once I got back to Moss Cottage and did the laundry, I launched myself back into genealogy land. Those of you not into this, you may return and pick up your day where you left off.

Genealogy alert:

I was merrily reviewing my McDonald-Walsh records but didn't make any progress. Then Marg called with a name and phone number. This might be a lead on my Kehoes. I'd long abandoned the idea of making any progress there.

Well, lo and behold, this person has Kehoes all over her family tree. Once branch has links to the same townland that has been mentioned as probably significant to me. Helen provided all sorts of interesting facts. There seems to be a connection but neither of us can make any particular theory work with the available records. Of course this derailed the McDonalds for the day.

It's now time to call it a day and wind down with my book. It's called Bayonets and Lace, by Barry Redmond. It's set in Co Wexford and begins before the Rebellion of 1798. The author is probably then new owner of Coollattin which may be used as the setting if the book is made into a film. Only time will tell if that happens.

Remembrance

The morning was crisp and cool and sunny. The sky was almost cloudless. I drove to Knockbrandon to pick up Marg and Jane and we drove to Gorey.

There we attended a lovely remembrance service in the Church of Ireland. It was simple and beautiful. At the end of the service a monument was dedicated to those who gave their lives in WWI and in subsequent conflicts.

I had a lovely day but today should remain dedicated to the men and women who fought in WWI, which ended 100 years ago today. My grandfather and some grand uncles fought in that war. They all returned home unscathed, much more fortunate than so many tens of thousands of others. Nothing else that happened today really mattered. We will remember all of them and how much they gave so that we could be free.

And so I went to Bagenalstown

Yesterday the light rain didn't stop me from setting out to Bagenalstown to the library. Nobody answered the phone when I called for information, so I decided to just drive over (30 mins) and check out their collection of local resources. So I did.

It took precisely no time to find the local resources. There aren't any. Everything is in Carlow library - except one large book on the history of Co Carlow. Drat. However, a chat with the librarian pointed me in the direction of the parish house where all church records are kept. My answers may lie there. The online registers are quite hard to read although I have gathered quite a lot of baptisms and the occasional marriage that could be the people I am seeking.

When I say "the librarian pointed me in the direction" it was loosely correct. I did walk to the corner, cross the street and walk up in the direction she indicated. As you gaze up the street (there's always a hill, even a little one), there is a solid row of attached buildings on both sides. I was to walk until I came to the second big house on the left - I couldn't miss it. Well, of course I could. I did find a house that had a sign "St Josephs" so I rang the bell. The parish church is St Andrews so this was a long shot. And wrong.

Around the corner of the house came a nice lady who informed me that was just the name of her house. She had recently moved and was grateful to St Joseph for prayers answered, so she named it in his honour. And then we chatted. Conversations always break out when you meet someone new here.

She was recently acquainted with long lost relatives so was sympathetic to my plight. She also pointed out that the directions I had received had missed a vital piece of information. After walking up the street I had to take the first street on the left, and then it would be the second big house on the left. Aha! When the librarian had said "It's on the left" she knew about that turn but that piece of information didn't quite make it into her directions. Perhaps when she emphasized it was 'on the left' she thought I might actually turn left at the next corner. But I didn't.

Ah well, I walked back, turned at the right place and found the rectory. Nobody answered the doorbell despite the sign saying they were open 9 to 5. It was 12:30. So I found a little cafe and had bowl of soup and brown bread, assuming they were out for lunch. 

This time I used Google to find the phone number of the rectory and I called. It was now after 1. Of course, lunch is from 1 to 2. But the phone rang through to the priest who said that mere mortals like myself cannot access the records directly and then quoted some sort of law or statement of "the reasons". I do understand and would have been surprised actually to have been allowed to put my little paws on ancient records. The problem I believe, is that the records go right up to the present day and those are private. [Those are also of little interest to me. My folks left circa 1850. I'm looking for Walsh and McDonald families. Those names are still used in the area around Bagenalstown, including I'm told, in the townland of Bohermore which is my specific target.]

But - he said the administrator would do a search if I let her know what it was I was looking for. I would email her when I got home.

First though, a stop at Aldi to increase the supply of those lovely Aldi chocolate bars. More accurately, the boxes with individually wrapped portions that are in a box that looks like a chocolate bar. Friends are waiting for these samples at home. My local Aldi doesn't have as good a selection. Mission accomplished. Some varieties are still missing from the collection. Now I have a new mission - visit every Aldi shop I come across.

So, ready to head home, and setting the GPS for Moss Cottage I trusted it to get me out of town and on the right road. Silly - why should this time be different? We did start out on the right road and as soon as it looked familiar, I should have turned the thing off. Instead I let Bossy Pants (BP) tell me where to go. She did fine for a while. Sneaky devil.

Some intersections are not straight through. They involve a turn and then another immediate turn in the opposite direction. I'm used to that. When BP said turn left and then turn right, I did so. And that's what led to some amazing views on a lovely road I'd never travelled. I thought I knew where it was leading - it wasn't. Then it got narrower. And the centre line disappeared. The hedges got closer together, or seemed to.

When there is no longer a centre line, you just know that there will be oncoming traffic. Well not traffic exactly, as that implies a flow of vehicles. This is more like intermittent surprises coming at you. I have now determined, albeit not scientifically, that you will have to pass an oncoming car: a) at the narrowest part of the road surface which does vary depending on the geography; b) on a one lane stone bridge with limited visibility of what is coming at you; or c) on a curve. Fortunately, it was only cars and a small van yesterday. Tractors pulling all manner of 'accessories', and large trucks, use those roads too, but not where I was yesterday.

Anyway, despite the grey skies and frequent showers, the views were tremendous. The dash cam was safe and dry in Moss Cottage, not on the inside of the windshield. Next time!

I did get back to the N80 eventually and instead of returning directly to the cottage, I turned off BP and turned in the other direction for Tullow. At the Tesco I found the sort of socks I was looking for. The ladies crew socks I had bought at Aldi were too short and refused to stay up. I found some small size men's socks in navy, black and grey and very inexpensive - 5 prs to a pack. Perfect. I can attest this morning that they are exactly what I needed. 

I had packed socks, only a few pairs, thinking I'd just wash them out in the evening. Silly me. Hand wash when there is a washing machine? I needed to increase the supply to meet my needs and have now done so - for the second time. 

And there on another shelf was a nice bottle of Merlot with my name on it whispering to be picked up, so I am now providing a good, if temporary, home for it.

I dispatched an email to the lady at the parish and before long she had replied indicating she would be happy to help me if I sent what I had and what I'm looking for. Later I prepared a document of what I have, and a couple of screen images of records that might (or not) be the right folks. 

Sending that bloody email was something else. My Mac mail app is intermittently friendly/unfriendly towards gmail accounts. I happily sent off the message last night and went to bed. Guess what - it was still in the unsent folder this morning. After several attempts and opening and closing the Mail app, my information finally left the Outbox and hopefully landed in Eleanor's Inbox.

And that's when I saw it! A mouse - scurrying along the wall behind my dining table, and then in and out around the stove and recycling bin. Arggghh. I don't care for mice - at all - ever - anywhere. I've searched the laundry area in the shed below and found no traps. I've now left a voice message for Mary and Brian to see if they have any traps on hand.

Don't go all mushy on me and say don't kill it. That mouse is doomed. I plan to make use of the cheese in the fridge in a way not thought of when purchased. Or maybe I'll use some peanut butter, but it's the natural kind and very runny, so probably the cheese is the better bait. Hopefully there will be multiple traps which I'll set downstairs as well. The little rodent is upstairs with me - not downstairs where he probably got in. Very soon this place will be full of traps. When I catch the prey, I hope Brian is prepared to dispose of it. That's not my strong suit.

Today it was quite clear when I got up around 7:30 but now at almost 9:30 and one cup of coffee later the forecast of rain and wind seems to be looming. No problem there - I have no plans to leave the nest. Of course, I'm not happy about sharing it with Mickey Mouse - or maybe Minnie - but I'll be vigilant and ready to leap onto a chair if need be.

Brian has just arrived with two traps, now ready for action upon the return of the wee mousie. He's also setting out a different solution in the bedrooms below, on the ground floor. They have to have gotten in down there and I never thought I'd see one here upstairs.

Now - to get on with today. The wind is picking up and the rain is not far off. An adventure is planned for Sunday. Details as things unfold, or rather, after they have unfolded.

Nothing of much interest to others

Monday was a rather wet day but I managed to get the groceries, make lunch for myself and a friend, pick up Kathy D. and head to the Rocktavern for a lovely family evening with the Byrnes.

There was little genealogy done - my browsing of the registers for the Walsh, McDonald and Bulger families produced crossed eyes but no records.

Are you bored yet? Today doesn't promise to be much better in any way. It's raining - has really not stopped since Paddy left, rather mild which is nice, and I have a visit planned to Carlow library.

Bored yet? Well that's about it for now. Unless something happens today there will be little point in a blog post. I don't expect to take any photos or do anything silly. Finding parking in Carlow and later getting successfully out of the town to come back to the cottage is the predicted excitement.

Have a lovely day.

It's been a while but finally have wifi again

Greetings - nothing sinister happened. I was just out of range of wifi for a few days. Happily I'm back online. It's too hard to type a blog using just my phone. And the cell phone reception wasn't that great either. And I was busy. Now let's see how much I remember and how much you can read without falling asleep from boredom.

Today is very mild with a bit of drizzle every now and then. I've done a couple of loads of laundry and am preparing for the arrival of Tom Byrne so I can see how rusty or capable I am when driving a manual. I hate the little car I've got and want to trade it for a diesel and probably "a stick". I'll take a picture of the odd little gear shift. There is no Park, Drive is a bump to the left and Reverse is to the right and down. It has no pep and drinks petrol like there's a hole in the tank. 

Meanwhile, back at the blog ...

Our Hallowe'en experience was fun and ,as we were not giving out candy (no trick or treaters down this lane anyway), there are no leftover treats hanging around calling my name. There was little to do on Thursday morning before setting out for Wexford and Rosslare.

Of course there was a detour involved and it was planned. And we got there directly. Yay. Curracloe Beach was our first stop as it was the site for a few movies.  The Irish beach scenes from the movie Brooklyn were filmed there and so was Saving Private Ryan. In that one it was used to recreate the invasion of Normandy. The beach we enjoyed, while wrapped up well, was almost deserted and very peaceful.

The sun was shining and there were few clouds - just the weather we'd come to expect. But it was pretty chilly. That didn't stop us from walking on the beach, collecting a few shells and increasing our step count for the day. Walking on sand should count as double steps. How do I set that on my step counter? Fair is fair. Stairs should count triple but I can't find that setting either. Come to think of it perhaps typing could be half a step per line. 

From there we were driving to Rosslare to meet Margaret for lunch at Kelly's Cafe. It seems only reasonable, that despite her good directions, we should head to Kelly's Hotel. Nope! Well, we did get to the hotel but it was the wrong place. Finally got the GPS directions sorted out and arrived at the cafe. Lunch was lovely and we gained not only good company but a tour guide.

After lunch Margaret drove us to Kilmore Quay. I never tire of that place - that's where I turn into my mother! Last year I had a photo taken in front of one of the thatched cottages and when I saw it, it was my mother looking back at me from behind the dark glasses. Yikes. This year I made sure to be always on the other side of the camera.

Tapestry of Kilmore Quay - every sort of medium used; mostly textiles but some found objects

Peaceful scene on the Quay

Dinner, but sadly not ours

Margaret's place in Rosslare was our base for the next couple of days. We'd been looking forward to the play, Dinner at Eight. It was touted as a European premiere and although that didn't quite make sense at it is not a new play, off we went. The theatre is lovely - and the wood used in the renovation assures marvellous acoustics.

We were severely underdressed. Looking at the tickets it was suggested that Black Tie and formal dress was suitable. Well, we both forgot our black ties and I'm not certain I own a dress that would have fit into the category of ball gowns and designer specials that we saw. Needless to say, I remained in my seat at the intermission lest even more people gawk at my black slacks and waterproof jacket. The sparkles on the gowns and from the patent leather shoes were quite in evidence. 

About the performance - none of us noticed in the description of the production, the word 'libretto'. Oops. It was the right play but it had been turned into an opera. 

The sets were marvellous, the costumes perfect, the production was elegant and beautifully staged and the set changes were seamless. But the screeching of the "singing" nearly drove us mad. They did have the sur-titles for us to read so I amused myself by doing just that. The actors simply sang the dialogue using a melody (I use the term loosely) that was awful. A review the next day said just what we found, so we felt vindicated in our views. However, the tickets were expensive and we felt somewhat ripped off. And underdressed - did I mention that before?

Friday started out sunny and we (eventually) found Johnstown Castle. There was a free tour that we decided to join after strolling a bit and taking pictures. Oh that we had declined!!! Certainly the guide knew the castle and the stories, but the main message was more along the lines of "we need bags more money than allotted to fix this up". There were few actual anecdotes about the builders, the owners and what had transpired there over the years. The tour lasted about 90 minutes - 10 of which were interesting. The final hour was spent standing inside the museum listening to a recounting of facts - names, marriages - who cares! There were details of how they want to fix it up and we were repeatedly shown the construction of new buildings. Blech! Eventually it was over.

We enjoyed a nice lunch in the cafe - after moving to a table near the fire where we weren't in danger of frostbite. There's nothing like a damp cold to get right into your bones.

Duly fortified we did enjoy the famine museum and bypassed the agricultural displays. When we came out the skies were overcast but it was dry.

That evening we had tickets for Holy Mary - the tale of two seven year old rivals, Mary and Majella. Parking the night before had been tricky so we wandered around Wexford for a few hours, stopping for supper after finding a good parking spot. 

Fortunately the play was in the small theatre in the Opera House and it became apparent that ball gowns were not required. This time we fit right in with our casual attire. We were however rather early, having failed to notice the starting time was 8:30 and not 8.

The play was fabulous once my ears were attuned to the accent. The two girls, and a few other parts, were played by two actresses - not children. They did a great job of sounding like little girls, and the other characters they played. The tickets had been cheap and we loved the entire performance.

in case you want to keep your chickens in the house

Don't think I'd want to scale this fence

Saturday was very wet, cold and windy. We headed north to Kilruddery House Saturday market. It was a great location but the market was disappointing. I suspect some vendors gave it a miss because of the weather.

However, we met my friend Lynne and followed her to the Avoca comples at Kilmacanoge. She referred to it as the Avoca Mothership. Indeed. There are Avoca woolen mills - at Avoca - and a nice store and cafe there. This was many times larger. The food was terrific and we managed to keep our wallets closed.

En route to Dublin to return the car and get Paddy settled in her airport hotel, a stop was required to buy petrol as the car had to be returned full. It's expensive at the airport. So, taking an exit somewhere and following the GPS to find the fuel, we ended up with a tour that brought us through much of Dublin near the shore, by the port, on a toll road and through a very long tunnel - with an additional toll. Yes, it took us to the airport.

All got sorted out, we said our goodbyes after a great time together, and as Paddy drove over to return her Micra, I entered Hertz with great hope for a good vehicle.

Hopes were dashed but I decided on an automatic. Bad move. I got a nice looking Opal Astra that has as much energy as I do after two hours sleep. You can watch the needle on the gas gauge descend rapidly. 

So, shortly I'll try a little drive with Tom to see how I manage with his manual shift. If all goes well, I'll contact Hertz in Wexford to see if I can exchange this piece of tin for diesel vehicle that is much easier on fuel.

Now, having done a couple of loads of laundry and started a bit on the research, I'm ready for part 3 of this trip. If you are not bored silly by now, please tune in again. But be warned - future instalments are likely to have less travel and more research and will be genealogy  based. I won't be offended if you tune out. After all I won't even know.

Hallowe'en

Today was cloudy and overcast but there was no drizzle until evening. It was a fitting start to our little Hallowe'en adventure.

Paddy spent the day at Glendalough but I stayed "home", went to the library, got my hair cut and made supper. Ho hum.

I did discover that an indirect ancestor is buried in Glasnevin cemetery, as is his infant son, so I will pursue the records to add to the family history. I do plan to tour the cemetery while in Dublin just prior to returning home. There are several different tours and I hope to take the one with more obscure facts - as I don't have a great memory for the important ones. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

This evening we drove to Wells' House, about half an hour away, for a "scary" tour. We arrived in good time and despite a lack of directional signs in the dark, we did find the visitor centre and along with about a dozen others, dutifully waited at the front door for our tour.

Wells House did look appropriately scary for the tour

Promptly at 8 pm, the front door opened and we were greeted by our guide, appropriately dressed in a long black cloak and pale makeup.

It was a house tour with details of various strange occurrences in the rooms we saw. The house is 300 years old, is not centrally heated despite having full time occupants until about 10 years ago, has very few electrical fixtures or outlets and no mention was made at all about bathrooms. The visitor centre now caters to those needs.

The reception room was apparently the site of a party in 1845 when the sounds of a faceless giant of a man pounding on the door demanding entrance, interrupted the merriment. The footman and the lady of the house went to the door but refused this creature entry. The lights went out, and when they came back on (I guess they relit the candles), the footman was dead and the lady was gone, never to be seen again. It's thought to have been the headless horseman. But wasn't he in the US?

We were being ushered out of the room when a screaming creature entered after some door banging, and we made haste to the stairway. Various ghouls popped up always screaming, which was quite startling. You knew it would happen but in every case I was caught offguard. We were "pawed" by a ghostly woman, entreated by dolls to stay and play, and chased by a murderous scullery boy. I suppose we were fortunate to escape with our lives.

The final touch was a chainsaw-wielding man who followed those on the tour, out to the parking lot.

All in all it was a fun evening. We did get an idea of the grandeur of the house, and it would have been very chilly to have lived there in winter. The grounds are lovely but only visible in the daytime of course. I've been there before but never inside the house.

We're packing up this evening - Paddy will not be back. I only have to pack a few things to last me until Saturday night. Of course the suitcase will include suitable theatre wear for the Wexford Opera Festival. Details will be provided after the fact.

A beautiful day in every way

It started out well and kept getting better. Despite a frosty start the temperature rose enough that you could enjoy a walk without a jacket as long as you had a couple of layers on. But that is not at all what made it a great day.

Paddy was off to Glasnevin Cemetery in Dublin as she'd missed it last week. I was being picked up by John McKenna from Enniscorthy. He is a DNA cousin and we know it is a McGrath connection - maternal side for both of us. The connection is buried deep in the past but our McGrath families have been traced back to the same townland in Co. Kilkenny around 1800.

At 10 AM as he'd promised, John showed up to collect me and off we went. The scenery was as beautiful as the day before and he didn't have to consult a map even once. That was different from our recent sorties. We were meeting his three sisters for coffee so that I could get acquainted with them.

Before the coffee klatch at the shopping centre, John gave me a tour of places meaningful to his family over the years. When the ladies joined us we sat around a table in the food court and conversation simply flowed. It's as if we'd already know each other for ages. Their sister-in-law Norah took the photo. Her husband and their brother Brian was at work. They lent me a couple of books written by another cousin in Canada.

from left: Isa, Nuala, Clare, me and John

This was no ordinary shopping centre and food court. The court is actually the courtyard of a former Workhouse and the original stone walls are still there. It has now been restored to a much happier purpose than when it was first built and used.

When we left the ladies, John drove back into the centre of town and we parked across the street from Hackett's pub. We went in for a drink. I had to have a small Smithwicks but John had a 7up. It was his choice anyway, but the Irish drinking and driving laws made it illegal for him to have alcohol in any case.

Hackett's is referred to by the current owner as the coldest pub in Ireland. The River Bregagh flows underneath the pub. This place had been the home of John's grand-parents and his mother had been born there. Just up the street was another pub, once run by his (great) uncle Michael McGrath. Nearby was a shop, still named McGrath's that had also at one time been in the family.

The pub didn't serve food so we went into Cleere's, another charming spot a few doors away, and I chose my seat beside the small open coal fire. I dined on a small serving of Irish beef stew.

Before leaving both Hackett's and Cleere's there were brief conversations and exchanges of pleasantries, including about people that John knew in common with the occupant of the bar stools. The world, especially in Kilkenny, is small. Everyone is friendly and I might have to watch myself at home. At every move a conversation breaks out and it is always on a happy note. I can't imagine such a thing at home.

John pointed out a few interesting points of history. On either side of small alleys can be found rounded stones, rather like bollards, that kept the horses pulling carts, from getting so close to the walls that the hubs of the wheels would have been scraped and damaged. We saw a remaining gate from the original city walls from the 13th century. Lucky I was there to hold it up.

We wandered around the neighbourhood that of course I will have to revisit, probably more than once. Driving in the city of Kilkenny is a challenge because the streets are hilly, twisting and narrow. John manoeuvred handily whereas I would be more than a little stressed. I think a walk from a more distant parking lot will be in order.

When we finally left the city was drove to Inistioge (inis teeg) which provided stunning views of the fall colours adorning the hillsides (mountainsides?) and valleys. There was a beautiful stone bridge with a few more arches than the one in Pakenham. Around every corner there was another lovely view. John indulged my compulsion for taking photos. Of course scenery is best simply viewed rather than photographed but that didn't stop me.

We got home at dusk and I compared notes with Paddy who had arrived back before me. Her descriptions of Glasnevin have assured that I will devote time to visiting when I am in Dublin in the first week of December.

Hallowe'en shall be celebrated by a ghost tour at Wells' House. If we survive I shall write a report.

Slan 

The frost is on the pumpkin

It was pretty chilly when I went out to the laundry room this morning. It's in a shed on the ground floor but you have to go out to get in. Hopefully you also remember to bring the keys along. Not only could the front door lock behind you but the shed is kept locked. Today however, Brian was in there so I got a two-for-one. The laundry got tucked into the machine and I had a great conversation.

Once the laundry was on the line and we'd had our lunch of soup and toast it was time to set out for a fairly local drive. Well, that really was the plan. Paddy has been doing a lot of driving and it was time to cut back for a day or so.

Our first destination was a tree. Don't laugh. I'd been before. If you've followed the blog before, you've seen it too. It's a huge Cork Oak in the cemetery of the Church of Ireland in Shillelagh. It's also featured in a book of heritage trees of Ireland by Aubrey Fennell. Sadly, he's not one of "our" Fennells. The phone cameras were again in need of exercise so we obliged - repeatedly. 

Just below the branches of the beautiful tree I spotted what appeared to be shiny, transparent mushrooms. Well, they were not transparent but the silvery beige colour created that impression at first glance. So - I took some pictures. You just never know when you'll have to produce a picture of a fungus, so I'm making a collection of pretty ones. This variety will take its rightful place in the collection. 

Attempts at artsy photos around the church and cemetery were rather more disappointing.

From there it was off to Tinahely. It's not far away but I'd never spent more than the time it takes to drive through so we thought we'd do some exploring. Right after entering the village, we saw the sign to the Tinahely Farm Shop so Paddy pulled a hard right turn and managed to create a parking space for our Micra. I think she's done a great job of fitting in with the habits of the Irish. If there is no parking lot, don't be deterred. Make yourself a spot anywhere you darn well want to.

The outdoor area is definitely for children although being a farming area I am not certain how the barn and surroundings hold any appeal. Perhaps the 5 Euro charge for kids is worth it but we didn't bother to investigate behind the barn entrance. 

The shop sells a number of antique-y things, some novelties, toys, glassware, coasters, jams, jellies and other treats. We checked out the little cafe but it was too soon after lunch to eat again.

Pointing the car back onto the road we'd so abruptly left, we oohed and aaahed over the scenery as we wound our way via Hacketstown to Baltinglass. The route was purely accidental but no matter where you drive there's plenty to see. If you're lucky, there's also something to explore and of course, photograph. 

And there we found the Abbey - all ready to be explored. Finding it visually was one thing. Actually getting there took a little more "doing". But we did it. A sign would have been helpful but alas ... 

The abbey was founded around 1100 and had four distinct eras over the intervening centuries. It's now in ruins but they are pretty interesting to explore. The builders seemed unable to decide on round or square columns, so they alternated. The arches make lovely frames for photos of the surrounding countryside and remnants of the various 'lives' are everywhere. The attached cemetery has some very old graves and some that are less than a year old. The surrounding vistas are as beautiful as anywhere else in the county.

Being rather chilly by then, we went in search of a cafe to have a coffee and dessert. We ended up back at Rathwood where we indulged our taste buds, but our taste for the retail offerings was successfully curtailed. Yay us!!

Once again we are back in Moss Cottage and I'm still trying to figure out a good way to save the photos from the phone. They are steadfastly refusing to upload to Dropbox. Until last week they dutifully uploaded themselves, as per the setting, as soon I the phone was charging. Since October 11th, it must be peeved at something. My one attempt to manually upload resulted in four copies of each picture - and that's excessive.

I have posted some pictures on Facebook and will download a few of those for your visual enjoyment. Then I shall sit in a corner and sulk about the inefficiency of the technology. Or maybe I'll just make a cup of peppermint tea and retire with my book.

Tomorrow Paddy is once again travelling to Dublin, this time to visit Glasnevin Cemetery. Not so fast, it's not a strange thing to do. This is a special place. I've reserved a day while in Dublin at the end of my stay, to do the same thing.

I'll be joining some distant McGrath cousins for some socializing in Kilkenny tomorrow. It would be nice to combine what we each know to find our common ancestor but I think that's dreaming in colour.

Tune in again tomorrow to check on our progress.

Genealogy alert:
I did find a source in the National Library for estate papers including rental records, which should include the Walsh, McDonald and Bulger ancestors. Something else to add to the Dublin itinerary in December - a day at the NLI poring over handwritten ledgers. Fun! I'll try to order them up in advance so I can start searching quickly.

Now here are some pictures for you for your patience. I never get them in the right order - feel free to complain.

Baltinglass Abbey - note the alternating round and square columns

Large Cork Oak in Shillelagh

Close up view of the bark on the Cork Oak. Looks like it could conceal some scary critters.

Giraffe spotted on our safari to Tinahely Farm Shop

Kissing Gate at the COI at Baltinglass Abbey. Open it all the way, step in, then move the gate back to the starting position and step out the other side.

My little "transparent" mushroom

Baltinglass Abbey from across the field

Tinahely without traffic - for a change