The Wandering Genealogist: Did you miss me?

Saturday morning and all's well at Moss Cottage. There's a bit of catching up to do.

Thursday was a nice relaxing day for me. I opted to stay at the cottage and Paddy went off for an adventure in Kilkenny. Just as it was when I was there two weeks ago, the traffic was crazy, parking was scarce and the machines took only change which she didn't have, and the place was swarming with tourists, apparently mostly Danes.

The tour of Smithwicks didn't disappoint and neither did the three sampling glasses of "the good stuff" so she could pick her favourite among the three brews. Walking about the town was also highly satisfying, especially along the river. The castle however was being marauded with coaches full of tourists and seeing much of anything would not have been possible.

In the evening we attended a music session at the Public Library where two guitars, an accordion and a selection of whistles/pipes provided the entertainment. A special treat after the break for tea and biscuits, was a gentleman named Luke who sang. The musicians easily picked up his tunes and for me his two songs were the highlight of the night. Most of the music was not the traditional Irish music we'd hoped for. We walked both ways, taking only 15 minutes each way. Well, maybe 18 on the way back as climbing the hill was the final obstacle.

As an aside, it seems that Egan's pub is having another traditional Irish music night on November 10th. I was sorry to have missed the one last weekend but looks like I'll have another chance. That will be a very late night.

Friday the activity level ramped up. Lest you think we jump up and get out at the crack of dawn, let me assure you that the crack you imagine is my joints preparing for the day and they have not yet experienced a dawn in Bunclody. The crack of eleven is a good time to go out I think - so that's about when we leave for the day.

We ease into each day, Paddy with her tea (she fits in so much better than I in that regard) and I with my French Pressed coffee. That lovely machine removes all the wrinkles and the beverage slides smoothly down to begin the process of assembling the rest of my senses into action. That's the only pressing that is happening here.

Enniscorthy was on the program and it's just 20 minutes drive down a good highway. We toured the 1798 Rebellion Centre which has re-opened as the sale fell through. The Wexford County Council is making sure that the entire experience created at the centre, must have a suitably spacious new home and that would not have happened. yay! We toured as a duo, there being only person following a few rooms behind us.

http://1798centre.ie/

Then it was time to send Paddy to the castle. We parked at Dunne's - which has become the only place I'll park in that hilly town - and went directly to Bailey's Cafe in the hotel across the street for a lovely lunch. From there Paddy walked to the castle and I went back to the car to deposit the two sole fillets I could not eat, into the car for later consumption. The day was cool so we are pretty sure that no spoiling took place.

I wanted to head upstairs into the store to pick up a couple of items I'd left behind. I had packed a bit too light. Wearing my cosy fleece shawl, fastened by a magnet combo (a steel ball magnet which goes inside the garment to be fastened, and a metal flat ring like a washer, that goes on the outside to surround the ball). This fastening is marvellous.

Well, it's quite marvellous if you are not a KLUTZ. Somehow, while shifting my purse from my shoulder I managed to pull apart the magnet. The ring fell directly to the ground where I retrieved it immediately. The ball was nowhere to be found. A few people near me aided in the search. Finally I gave up. I had not heard the ball drop (I mean, it was not New Year's Eve in Times Square) and someone suggested it had dropped into my clothing. That was impossible given that my pockets were covered by a long shirt and the shawl. Eventually I gave up and went shopping, which I admit was even more successful than planned. Ah well...

After depositing my purchases in the car, I enlisted the help of a man cleaning the garage to move a sign in case the ball had rolled there. Nope! Paddy returned and suggested that as it was a magnet it would stick to metal. So we looked again. Nada. I gave up.

We drove off to pick up Marg Gilbert on the Carnew-Gorey Road, for a visit to Ballymore House in the back of beyond outside of Camolin. Google them if you want to see the locations. The following link will show you a bit of Ballymore.

http://www.buildingsofireland.ie/niah/search.jsp?type=record&county=WX&regno=15701612

The current occupant is Margaret Donovan, widow of Richard Donovan whose family own the demesne. Margaret greeted us and gave us a private tour of the museum. The collection is incredible. There is a small 1798 room with documents, certificates and portraits from the time. Margaret's knowledge is mind-boggling and the relationship of the house to the Rebellion and other times of historic importance makes me wish my brain could reliably hold more historical information.

We saw The Dairy with several old butter churns of various styles and the water wheel from the early 19th century which was used to turn a millstone to raise the water.

From there we toured the main museum with many articles of clothing, a few dating back to circa 1800. The fact that they are all intact, and show how much slimmer and shorter that folks were at the time, attests to the care with which they are preserved. There were some baby items, a wedding dress from 1888, samples of lace and some lace in the process of emerging from a myriad of pins and bobbins. All marvellous. I promised not to put any photos from inside the museum on the internet. I will make an attempt to add a couple of others from our day at the end of this post.

Everything in that museum is from the Donovan family. The treasures there make the mind spin.

Our visit ended with afternoon tea in the parlour of the main house, in front of a small wood fire, which was assisted by an electric heater. Margaret's cousin and her husband were visiting from Canada!! and we enjoyed every minute of our conversation - and of course the tea (well OK, coffee for me) and scones and biscuits. A truly unique and memorable afternoon.

While sitting down for tea I noticed something shiny in the buckle of my purse. It was that magnetic steel ball that had come free at the entrance to Dunne's. What luck! What Irish luck I suppose. It's such a strong magnet that the only metal part on the purse managed to be in the way of the descent when it popped free of the ring. Yay! Only good things happen to me here.

After dropping Margaret back home, we turned back on to the main road to Gorey. We were off to see Black 47, a new release about the famine. It was set in Connemara and featured some well known actors (not so much known to me), and showed the brutality of the time. It was anything but cheery and one came away with a heavy heart.

Things were not quite that grim for our Byrne/Kehoe ancestors as they lived in Wicklow on the estate of Earl Fitzwilliam. They were not evicted but took up the Earl's offer of assisted passage to Canada. Now I can't stop coming back.

We had the saltiest popcorn ever as our dinner, along with a bottle of water. There was nothing else but candy and ice cream on offer. In retrospect, we should have had the ice cream. Fortunately I had a Clif bar in my purse. This was unarguably the worst meal ever. But it cut the edge of our hunger.

The trusty GPS did a great job of directing us home on the most direct route.

And so to bed - to remain on vibrant alert for hours after that cup of coffee. When will I learn to limit caffeine to the pre-noon hours?

So many memories were created yesterday that I simply had to capture them. My few words don't do it justice. Outings with Marg Gilbert are all unique and wonderful. This one was extra special.