Well, here I am, coffee in hand, spinach omelet on the plate and sun streaming in the window. Well, it's streaming now but going to disappear soon as the dark clouds make their way over the hills in my direction.
The laundry is about to start an additional spin and that is likely to be my great accomplishment du jour. Well, that and making sure that everything I want to take home fits into the suitcase and carry-on.
I'll have lots of time to write today and hope that I can be somewhat productive. It's good practice for staying alone at home once I'm back in Ottawa.
I figure that my chances of getting infected with the coronavirus are pretty good on one of the two aircraft that are in my near future. Despite assurances of extra cleaning and fresh air circulation on board, airplanes are known sources of all sorts of "sharing".
There have been very few photos taken on this trip because I haven't really gone anywhere new. I have not seen everyone I'd planned to visit and will not see them before departure.
As I have nothing more to say, I shall stop now.
Saturday, March 14, 2020
Friday, March 13, 2020
Blogging Covid-19
If you are reading only my most recent post, you might want to check back one day to get the last blog-worthy entry. Things are changing and I will follow that trend.
I saw a post on Facebook that was aimed at genealogists but I'm passing along the idea and hope that my family and friends will consider this an opportunity. I mean, you're going to be stuck at home anyway.
Keep a journal – or a blog – of your Covid-19 experience. Include a bit of info about yourself and write a bit every day about what it's like, whether you become ill or not. Obviously, this is easier to do if you are not sick with it. This will be a great first-hand account for future generations.
So, I shall create my own Covid-19 blog from here on. Let's hope it is not a long series of posts. I'm going to begin with a brief outline of what has been going on to date in my little part of the world. Everything has changed rapidly in the past couple of days and there is likely to be less to say without much social contact. But let's just write stuff down and see how it goes.
I saw a post on Facebook that was aimed at genealogists but I'm passing along the idea and hope that my family and friends will consider this an opportunity. I mean, you're going to be stuck at home anyway.
Keep a journal – or a blog – of your Covid-19 experience. Include a bit of info about yourself and write a bit every day about what it's like, whether you become ill or not. Obviously, this is easier to do if you are not sick with it. This will be a great first-hand account for future generations.
So, I shall create my own Covid-19 blog from here on. Let's hope it is not a long series of posts. I'm going to begin with a brief outline of what has been going on to date in my little part of the world. Everything has changed rapidly in the past couple of days and there is likely to be less to say without much social contact. But let's just write stuff down and see how it goes.
Heading home early
Hello loyal reader
I am heading home on Tuesday. Leaving Ireland on St Patrick's seems wrong but that is the first date with an economy seat on Air Canada. I am unwilling to pay $3600 for a one-way business class ticket. I can huddle in my window seat and try to stay as isolated as I would be paying several times more than a round trip ticket costs.
Thursday I enjoyed my final social encounter with the "cousins on the McGrath side" in Kilkenny. John met me in Bunclody and he drove via Gowran and Borris to McDonagh Junction Mall where we met the siblings for coffee and a catch-up visit. During that time we learned that the schools were closing and later learned that pretty much everything is a no-go now. No tourist sites will be welcoming visitors.
So I decided on the way back, to get the first flight home. That proved to be a royal pain but eventually, I did get a seat booked for Tuesday and I took it. The extra cost is $134 for the Air Transport Fee which I thought I'd paid on the original ticket. The "change" fee was waived. But they still did a "gotcha".
Why go home instead of hunkering down here? Well, there's no guarantee that flights will not be cancelled by April 2 and I'd be stuck here longer. I've budgeted until that time and not longer. I do have plans and appointments when I'm back in Ottawa. And I am pretty sure that my travel medical insurance does not cover pandemics - as noted in an email from the insurance company. So, should I contract Covid-19 and need medical care, it would be on my own dime so to speak. I'd rather be at home with fully paid coverage. Gotta love our medicare.
I'll spend the weekend in the Barn (as this cottage is named), doing some writing and staying tuned in to the news. I should be able to consume most of the food that I have left in the fridge. The combinations may be a bit unusual but I won't starve.
I may venture out to Aldi for a bottle of wine and the remainder of their supply of dark chocolate with sea salt. Both are quite medicinal when consumed appropriately. And I am nothing if not an appropriate consumer. It could feel like a long weekend with only myself for company – as suggested by every country in the world now – and I need my creature comforts.
Aldi is open at 9 this morning and I'll be there! Besides, any later than that and I might have to line up for a parking space so the food hoarders can pounce once again. It is comical to watch but is really not my sport of choice.
The coffee is ready and I'm in need of caffeine. Enjoy your day. It's sunny here now but rain is promised to start this afternoon. The end of the rain has not yet made it into the forecast.
I am heading home on Tuesday. Leaving Ireland on St Patrick's seems wrong but that is the first date with an economy seat on Air Canada. I am unwilling to pay $3600 for a one-way business class ticket. I can huddle in my window seat and try to stay as isolated as I would be paying several times more than a round trip ticket costs.
Thursday I enjoyed my final social encounter with the "cousins on the McGrath side" in Kilkenny. John met me in Bunclody and he drove via Gowran and Borris to McDonagh Junction Mall where we met the siblings for coffee and a catch-up visit. During that time we learned that the schools were closing and later learned that pretty much everything is a no-go now. No tourist sites will be welcoming visitors.
So I decided on the way back, to get the first flight home. That proved to be a royal pain but eventually, I did get a seat booked for Tuesday and I took it. The extra cost is $134 for the Air Transport Fee which I thought I'd paid on the original ticket. The "change" fee was waived. But they still did a "gotcha".
Why go home instead of hunkering down here? Well, there's no guarantee that flights will not be cancelled by April 2 and I'd be stuck here longer. I've budgeted until that time and not longer. I do have plans and appointments when I'm back in Ottawa. And I am pretty sure that my travel medical insurance does not cover pandemics - as noted in an email from the insurance company. So, should I contract Covid-19 and need medical care, it would be on my own dime so to speak. I'd rather be at home with fully paid coverage. Gotta love our medicare.
I'll spend the weekend in the Barn (as this cottage is named), doing some writing and staying tuned in to the news. I should be able to consume most of the food that I have left in the fridge. The combinations may be a bit unusual but I won't starve.
I may venture out to Aldi for a bottle of wine and the remainder of their supply of dark chocolate with sea salt. Both are quite medicinal when consumed appropriately. And I am nothing if not an appropriate consumer. It could feel like a long weekend with only myself for company – as suggested by every country in the world now – and I need my creature comforts.
Aldi is open at 9 this morning and I'll be there! Besides, any later than that and I might have to line up for a parking space so the food hoarders can pounce once again. It is comical to watch but is really not my sport of choice.
The coffee is ready and I'm in need of caffeine. Enjoy your day. It's sunny here now but rain is promised to start this afternoon. The end of the rain has not yet made it into the forecast.
Wednesday, March 11, 2020
Another train ride, another walk in the rain
I have acquired some new skills in recent days. And no, I don't mean shifting gears. That is an old skill that I've brought back into service. It may still need a bit of dusting off. I am fine with shifting up and down but I have a tendency to use only the brake when I want to stop. And stop I do indeed! At least I'm down in 1st gear by then.
Another skill is timing. The weather here is quite changeable - every few minutes sometimes. Part of that change has included sunshine, which is lovely. It's lovely when you are not driving straight into it. I have learned to time my outings so that in the morning I am heading east and in the evening I'm heading west. I will probably figure out the best hours for my sorties, just in time to Spring forward at the end of March. Not everyone manages to find a way to be heading into the sun – every day. Couple that with winding roads, unforgiving hedges, narrow shoulders (the road, not me) and often the lack of a centre line because there isn't room to paint one. Ta-da you have your challenge du jour. The little extra challenge comes when driving into the sun as a behemoth of a tractor is coming at you. I yield to everyone, and especially to tractors, with or without trailers.
This morning I arrived at Gorey train station in plenty of time. When it came to the pay and display for parking I approached a machine that insists on having you use an app. I installed the app but the commands the pay machine told me to use were not on my screen in the app. The station master couldn't figure it out either. Luckily we found one of the pay stations still accepts coins so I managed to get my ticket, display it on the windshield, and still make the train.
I had eaten breakfast but had not had a coffee so when the "tea wagon" came around, I asked for coffee. Then the question came back to me: Do you want instant or filtered coffee? Is that an actual choice? Of course, I wanted filtered. So I got this regular looking paper cup but the lid was rather extraordinary. I opened the lid to add the milk and found the ground coffee floating on top. What??? This isn't a French Press. I added the milk from those tiny little capsules anyway, replaced the lid and then I saw the filter. There was a sort of swoop to the lid, around the filter. Maybe I'm the last to have discovered this but it took me by surprise. As I had to let it sit to cool off a bit, by the time it sorted itself out it wasn't half bad.
The weather was pretty decent to start the day. The views along the Wicklow coast were quite lovely. And, as I got off the train at Pearse Station, it was raining. I had remembered the route and arrived at the door to the manuscript room to find it locked. It was about 10:20, the papers were to be ready for me by 9:30. And then I saw the sign: staff development meetings until 11 am. So, I went to the cafe and had a cappuccino while I waited. Tastier than filtered.
Eventually, I returned to the Manuscript building, around the corner, and this time it was open. Proceeding first to put my jacket and bag in a locker, I then asked the info desk guy where the reading room was located. He was new, but after a bit of a puzzled look and short delay, he showed me where to get the elevator. At least I didn't have to install an app this time.
Waiting for me was a small mountain of reading matter pertaining to the Wandesforde Estate which was the homeplace of my Brennan and McGrath ancestors. Nice to get two for one. I did find little bits of material that were helpful although I had most of the information already.
It is rather breathtaking to handle papers that are 200 years old, and older. Some of the items dated back to the mid 18th century. Some were almost shredded. Books, no matter how small, must be placed on a cushion. There are special cushions in various sizes to accommodate various size books. The books I had were small, the cushion I got was big. There is also a string-like device with 'beads' which are weighty and covered with some sort of fabric. This string of beads is used to hold down the pages so you don't have to handle more than just the corners when you turn the page. Another new device. I wish I'd thought to take a photo.
It is interesting to get lost reading old letters. It would be nicer if I could have read the handwriting. Like today, not all cursive writing is easy to read. This looked lovely and I think they were all in English but most of it escaped me. Alas, none were by or about any of my ancestors.
I did not find their names among those requesting blankets, cloaks, or pumps. Charity could be asked of the landlord. Sometimes small loans were granted and other times foodstuffs or warm clothes. Some names appeared often on those lists. I guess that my folks did a little better, or else were too proud to ask.
Then came the emigration lists and lo and behold there they were. All on the same list. Did they travel to Canada together in 1847? That has yet to be confirmed. The list of families and the number of travellers in each, went on for pages. There were about 1200+ who came to Canada from that one estate. In 1847. And people left over the course of a few years. In the case of my Brennans and McGraths, they received assistance from the landlord and were not simply evicted from the land. None of the ships carrying famine emigrants to Canada, could hold 1200 passengers so many ships would have been needed.
I do have the name of the shipping agent and it seems likely that they left from Dublin. Was it direct or via Liverpool, Bristol, or someplace else? To be determined. Maybe the information I now have will let me find that out.
Around 2 pm I was too hungry to last much longer so went out for a bite to eat. The sun was shining and it was a lovely day. I ate in a cafe across the street from Trinity College. At present it is off-limits to tourists, and students it seems. No visits are permitted to the Long Room or the Book of Kells because of the coronavirus Covid-19. All classes are now presented online, not in classrooms at Trinity.
My return to the library and completion of the document review – at least of the files I chose to review, took another couple of hours. And I decided to take the 5:30 pm train. The walk to the station was uneventful other than the fact that it was raining again. What is it about having to walk for 20 minutes, in the rain, both ways on both days?
Now I'm back in the snug cottage and about to call it a day. No photos worth posting today - they are all pretty much of documents and of value only to me.
And so good night.
Another skill is timing. The weather here is quite changeable - every few minutes sometimes. Part of that change has included sunshine, which is lovely. It's lovely when you are not driving straight into it. I have learned to time my outings so that in the morning I am heading east and in the evening I'm heading west. I will probably figure out the best hours for my sorties, just in time to Spring forward at the end of March. Not everyone manages to find a way to be heading into the sun – every day. Couple that with winding roads, unforgiving hedges, narrow shoulders (the road, not me) and often the lack of a centre line because there isn't room to paint one. Ta-da you have your challenge du jour. The little extra challenge comes when driving into the sun as a behemoth of a tractor is coming at you. I yield to everyone, and especially to tractors, with or without trailers.
This morning I arrived at Gorey train station in plenty of time. When it came to the pay and display for parking I approached a machine that insists on having you use an app. I installed the app but the commands the pay machine told me to use were not on my screen in the app. The station master couldn't figure it out either. Luckily we found one of the pay stations still accepts coins so I managed to get my ticket, display it on the windshield, and still make the train.
I had eaten breakfast but had not had a coffee so when the "tea wagon" came around, I asked for coffee. Then the question came back to me: Do you want instant or filtered coffee? Is that an actual choice? Of course, I wanted filtered. So I got this regular looking paper cup but the lid was rather extraordinary. I opened the lid to add the milk and found the ground coffee floating on top. What??? This isn't a French Press. I added the milk from those tiny little capsules anyway, replaced the lid and then I saw the filter. There was a sort of swoop to the lid, around the filter. Maybe I'm the last to have discovered this but it took me by surprise. As I had to let it sit to cool off a bit, by the time it sorted itself out it wasn't half bad.
The weather was pretty decent to start the day. The views along the Wicklow coast were quite lovely. And, as I got off the train at Pearse Station, it was raining. I had remembered the route and arrived at the door to the manuscript room to find it locked. It was about 10:20, the papers were to be ready for me by 9:30. And then I saw the sign: staff development meetings until 11 am. So, I went to the cafe and had a cappuccino while I waited. Tastier than filtered.
Eventually, I returned to the Manuscript building, around the corner, and this time it was open. Proceeding first to put my jacket and bag in a locker, I then asked the info desk guy where the reading room was located. He was new, but after a bit of a puzzled look and short delay, he showed me where to get the elevator. At least I didn't have to install an app this time.
Waiting for me was a small mountain of reading matter pertaining to the Wandesforde Estate which was the homeplace of my Brennan and McGrath ancestors. Nice to get two for one. I did find little bits of material that were helpful although I had most of the information already.
It is rather breathtaking to handle papers that are 200 years old, and older. Some of the items dated back to the mid 18th century. Some were almost shredded. Books, no matter how small, must be placed on a cushion. There are special cushions in various sizes to accommodate various size books. The books I had were small, the cushion I got was big. There is also a string-like device with 'beads' which are weighty and covered with some sort of fabric. This string of beads is used to hold down the pages so you don't have to handle more than just the corners when you turn the page. Another new device. I wish I'd thought to take a photo.
It is interesting to get lost reading old letters. It would be nicer if I could have read the handwriting. Like today, not all cursive writing is easy to read. This looked lovely and I think they were all in English but most of it escaped me. Alas, none were by or about any of my ancestors.
I did not find their names among those requesting blankets, cloaks, or pumps. Charity could be asked of the landlord. Sometimes small loans were granted and other times foodstuffs or warm clothes. Some names appeared often on those lists. I guess that my folks did a little better, or else were too proud to ask.
Then came the emigration lists and lo and behold there they were. All on the same list. Did they travel to Canada together in 1847? That has yet to be confirmed. The list of families and the number of travellers in each, went on for pages. There were about 1200+ who came to Canada from that one estate. In 1847. And people left over the course of a few years. In the case of my Brennans and McGraths, they received assistance from the landlord and were not simply evicted from the land. None of the ships carrying famine emigrants to Canada, could hold 1200 passengers so many ships would have been needed.
I do have the name of the shipping agent and it seems likely that they left from Dublin. Was it direct or via Liverpool, Bristol, or someplace else? To be determined. Maybe the information I now have will let me find that out.
Around 2 pm I was too hungry to last much longer so went out for a bite to eat. The sun was shining and it was a lovely day. I ate in a cafe across the street from Trinity College. At present it is off-limits to tourists, and students it seems. No visits are permitted to the Long Room or the Book of Kells because of the coronavirus Covid-19. All classes are now presented online, not in classrooms at Trinity.
My return to the library and completion of the document review – at least of the files I chose to review, took another couple of hours. And I decided to take the 5:30 pm train. The walk to the station was uneventful other than the fact that it was raining again. What is it about having to walk for 20 minutes, in the rain, both ways on both days?
Now I'm back in the snug cottage and about to call it a day. No photos worth posting today - they are all pretty much of documents and of value only to me.
And so good night.
Tuesday, March 10, 2020
It's still Tuesday but the last post was long enough
As previously noted, the electricity was off here for some sort of regional maintenance reason, from 9 am to whatever. It did go off just after 9 and I wasn't home until after 5 and everything was as it should be by then. Apparently it was on by 11.
With tomorrow's solo trip to the NLI coming up, I decided the easiest route was a 30-minute drive to Gorey for the nearly 2-hour train ride to Pearse Station. I think I can get to the NLI without help this time. So, I drove the route to check my timing, scoped out the parking situation and went into the station to get a ticket. Now I'm all set.
Since I was on the spot, I visited the Gorey library where I wanted to check out local history information. There were six books all by the same author. It was pretty much exclusively for Gorey and immediate environs, and to date, I have no ancestors that I know of from there, but one potential suspect, so I took photos of a couple of items and headed out. But I had found a reference to check, in Bunclody.
After a brief lunch stop for soup, it was on to Bunclody to fill the car with gas, er, petrol and stop at the Bunclody library to return my book (A Memory of Violets), and look for a book that was referenced but not kept in Gorey. And what a little gem it was. "Heirs to a Heritage" by Willie White. There are two volumes but only the second was available in the Reference section. Willie White was a much-admired citizen of Clonegall. That town was kind of the centre of church and market life for my Byrne ancestors. It's like a magnet for me.
I had the pleasure of chatting with Willie in 2009 and was impressed with his local knowledge. The man was an encyclopedia of local history. He knew everyone and all the stories. Luckily for his survivors he was a prolific writer. Now my mission is to find and buy a copy of each of his books of local history. It is Mission Impossible. The books are out of print and despite widespread internet searches of old and rare book suppliers, nada. But - I have my contacts on book watch.
Should I skip the part about visiting the Weaver's Cottage? having a personal tour? chatting with another local? and getting a few references to other local historians? One is a Ned Byrne and I'm still trying to decide if I have the nerve to knock on his door. I have no phone number. And, of course he was not alive when my Byrnes left Ireland. But, he might have some great stories that have been handed down.
Well, I will spare you the minute details but will include a few photos of the cottage. The iron bed, its quilt and the christening gown all date from the 17th century. They have been lovingly preserved.
The reason for visiting the Weaver's Cottage was to try to verify if it had been the one that a potential brother/cousin of my ggg grandmother, had lived in. He occupied one of the 6 cottages in that row in Clonegall in 1842. As it happens, since he was not a weaver, he lived in one of the 4 that have been torn down. But the cottages were identical so I could see how he would have lived.
I could stay here longer but even if I had to leave tomorrow, I have found lots of little gems. Now I have to incorporate them into my ongoing family history writing.
With tomorrow's solo trip to the NLI coming up, I decided the easiest route was a 30-minute drive to Gorey for the nearly 2-hour train ride to Pearse Station. I think I can get to the NLI without help this time. So, I drove the route to check my timing, scoped out the parking situation and went into the station to get a ticket. Now I'm all set.
Since I was on the spot, I visited the Gorey library where I wanted to check out local history information. There were six books all by the same author. It was pretty much exclusively for Gorey and immediate environs, and to date, I have no ancestors that I know of from there, but one potential suspect, so I took photos of a couple of items and headed out. But I had found a reference to check, in Bunclody.
After a brief lunch stop for soup, it was on to Bunclody to fill the car with gas, er, petrol and stop at the Bunclody library to return my book (A Memory of Violets), and look for a book that was referenced but not kept in Gorey. And what a little gem it was. "Heirs to a Heritage" by Willie White. There are two volumes but only the second was available in the Reference section. Willie White was a much-admired citizen of Clonegall. That town was kind of the centre of church and market life for my Byrne ancestors. It's like a magnet for me.
I had the pleasure of chatting with Willie in 2009 and was impressed with his local knowledge. The man was an encyclopedia of local history. He knew everyone and all the stories. Luckily for his survivors he was a prolific writer. Now my mission is to find and buy a copy of each of his books of local history. It is Mission Impossible. The books are out of print and despite widespread internet searches of old and rare book suppliers, nada. But - I have my contacts on book watch.
Should I skip the part about visiting the Weaver's Cottage? having a personal tour? chatting with another local? and getting a few references to other local historians? One is a Ned Byrne and I'm still trying to decide if I have the nerve to knock on his door. I have no phone number. And, of course he was not alive when my Byrnes left Ireland. But, he might have some great stories that have been handed down.
Well, I will spare you the minute details but will include a few photos of the cottage. The iron bed, its quilt and the christening gown all date from the 17th century. They have been lovingly preserved.
The reason for visiting the Weaver's Cottage was to try to verify if it had been the one that a potential brother/cousin of my ggg grandmother, had lived in. He occupied one of the 6 cottages in that row in Clonegall in 1842. As it happens, since he was not a weaver, he lived in one of the 4 that have been torn down. But the cottages were identical so I could see how he would have lived.
I could stay here longer but even if I had to leave tomorrow, I have found lots of little gems. Now I have to incorporate them into my ongoing family history writing.
 |
| The weavers' cottages, Clonegall |
 |
| 17th century iron bed, quilt and christening gown |
 |
| About the bed and quilt |
 |
| His and hers clay pipes for a bit of relaxing by the fire, after the many children had gone to bed |
 |
| Enjoying the view from the Weaver's Cottage |
A lot to catch up on
Yes, I've finally wandered back. For a couple of days there was little to report. I can't imagine you'd have any interest in grocery shopping, laundry descriptions, what I had for dinner or whether or not I'd stalled the car on a hill. And that describes last Saturday. Yawn!
Sunday afternoon I picked up Kathy Doyle, the owner and loaner of my current vehicle. She had not been to the Annacurra cemetery to visit the grave of her husband and son for a few weeks. Kathy was a very good passenger, and I shall not interpret her comment that I made the journey that usually takes her half an hour, in 20 minutes. My top speed was 80 kph, and the average speed would have been about 60. The road from Carnew to Annacurra is pretty good - it has a painted white line, meaning there is in fact room for two cars travelling in opposite directions, to pass without one or the other having to become intimately acquainted with a hedge or ditch.
The sun was shining and it seemed a waste to drive Kathy home. So, as was her habit, we stopped in to visit the Floods. I asked if we should phone first but that was not required. Jo and John welcomed us warmly with tea and cupcakes. I passed on both and had a glass of water. I don't think anyone noticed a tiny bit of drool at the corner of my mouth when I decided to forego the sugar rush promised by each of the perfect little nicely-decorated delights.
From there it seemed like a good idea to visit someone else so Kathy called to be sure that one or another family member was at home. No luck - everyone was otherwise occupied. So, being forced by circumstances we went to the pub.
Actually, it was her brother Jim's pub. We settled for sparkling water as befits a Sunday in Lent, and also meets the Garda's tolerance level for drinking and driving. The acceptable level of alcohol is 0.00. This has put a dent in the pub business and increased the income of taxi drivers. Does that balance out? I guess that's only if you own the pub and taxi.
Once Kathy was safely returned to her cosy home, I returned to the Barn (remember that is the name of this cottage) to prepare for Monday's rather more lengthy journey.
I have the Autoaddress app, specific to Ireland, which helps you find your destination and uses google maps to get you there. Street addresses as I know them, have no meaning here in rural Wicklow. It's my handy-dandy get-to-your-destination magic director. So, I decided to set it up for Monday's outing.
Are you bored yet? Feel free to tune out. I'll never know so won't be offended. I think I need some wine before I continue. I'll just step to the counter and pour myself a glass of kooliburra Reserve Shiraz. OK, so I'm supporting the Australian economy too. I'm very generous that way. Ahhhhh - that's better.
Should I wash my hands again or use the hand sanitizer? It's been over an hour. Then again, I haven't seen anyone during that time. Just heard that Ireland now has 24 cases, here in the Republic, of the somewhat-dreaded Covid-19. I'm not worried because there is adequate toilet paper in the bathroom and a couple of bottles of water in the fridge. Oh yes, and assorted food and drink. It's hard to tell how bothered folks are. Here in the beauty of rural Wicklow folks are still shaking hands, although I did bump elbows yesterday just in case. On the other hand, all St Patrick's Day parades have been cancelled. Trinity College which has a couple of cases, has closed access to the Book of Kells and the Long Room. Aside from hearing about stockpiling of TP, I really don't know Canada's response at present.
Back to Monday's adventures. The destination was the National Library of Ireland, in Dublin. I won't drive in Dublin so a plan was devised. I would drive to Greystones and take the DART from there to Pearse Station, quite close to the NLI. Take note Ottawa, Ireland has an amazing on-time transportation system of rail, light rail and buses. And they provide wifi on board. Woo hoo. For those who require constant access to their phones, you needn't worry about withdrawal or using too much data while getting around.
John O, who lives here at Minmore, accompanied me in the car. He doesn't drive and complimented my driving. I guess I've gotten accustomed to being a shifty character. It's so easy to impress those who don't drive.
Using Autoaddress, with the destination set as Greystones DART station, we set out towards Shillelagh. Once through the village, any resemblance to any route previously taken by me in a car or by John on his bicycle, faded into mere memory. We saw some lovely forests, long distance views, and entirely new roads not previously taken. Most did not have a line down the middle. Half the road is too narrow, sometimes not much wider than the missing line. But we did get to Greystones and even found parking beside the station. Cost: 2 Euro per day. Bargain city!!!
We had just missed a DART to Dublin so had to wait half an hour. We managed to enjoy a cup of coffee in the warmth of the tiny coffee shop instead of standing in the drizzle. And then we were off. John travelled only to Bray but I continued to Pearse Station from which I had "easy" directions to the NLI. Hah! Easy directions for me??? Oxymoron time. But I don't lack courage when it comes to asking anyone to tell me where to go. Lucky day - the person I asked was walking to the building beside the library. I trotted along in the rain, as fast as I could, beside this chap who had really long strides.
Genealogy alert for those still awake:
Acquiring a Reader's Ticket was easy, as was putting my bag in a locker, as was trotting up the stairs to the Reading Room. I was directed to a computer where I could put in my order for manuscripts – for my next visit. They must be ordered at least 24 hours in advance. At that point, my brain switched off but a staff member gave me good instructions on how to order. I forgot only one thing – timing. You can order only 3 items at a time and you must specify what date and time you will pick them up. I remembered the date part and left the default time of 11:30. I ended up ordering about 18 items (6 orders), all for the same time. Part of the order includes your email address.
Voila - those folks are really on their toes. Within a few minutes, I had confirmation emails and one a bit more personalized. It reminded me that I had ordered everything for the same time. Not only can you only order 3 things at a time, but you can also only pick up three things at a time. Luckily, the email included a phone number which I happily called.
The lovely lady in the manuscripts room remembered my orders and very graciously amended all the times to 15-minute intervals. Beginning at 9:30 am for Thursday. Fine. I am a more than a couple of hours from the NLI if I make great time. The time I'd have to begin the journey to Dublin was getting a bit on the Zero-dark-thirty side. So, I still had that phone number and used it again. Same nice lady at the other end. She assured me that no matter what time I arrived, the things would be waiting.
You may remember that I have a propensity for getting lost. Well, Autoaddress and a helpful stranger made sure that the first part of my day's travels went well. I was on my own for the return.
Retracing my steps – in the rain – towards Pearse St DART station should have been a snap. Well, I snapped instead. Luckily I wasn't far past the corner I had to turn when I asked another stranger if I was on the route to Pearse Station. I was not. But it wasn't far off and my rain jacket was still dutifully keeping me dry. I got to the station to check the schedule and time for my train. 15:04 on Track 2. It was on time. I got on board. I was heading for Greystones, the last stop. When we were quite a ways along in the journey I noticed that the sign in the coach said "Destination Bray". What? That's one stop too short. And that's where I had to disembark.
My lovely friend Lynne, who I was supposed to meet in Greystones anyway to deliver what I'd brought for her from Canada, picked me up at the Bray station and drove me to Greystones where I met John, after giving Lynne her packages of biscuits. We had a chance to catch up a little on the ride. We will reunite in a week or so.
The drive back to Minmore was uneventful following Autoaddress and quite a different route than the one in the morning. Views were nice, through the rain. We got home safely. The only news here was that Tuesday, today, we'd have no electricity between 9 and 1. I made it just in time to make coffee this morning. Couldn't even warm up the refill.
Last evening Kathleen had the Byrne family to her home in Bolinrush and we had a fabulous evening, talking for hours. A late trip to the Caredocs in Gorey with the other Kathy, had me home after 1:30. No details will be provided. All's well that ends well. I had the best sleep since my arrival and got up just in time to make the coffee before we lost electricity.
I'll start another post for today's adventures.
Sunday afternoon I picked up Kathy Doyle, the owner and loaner of my current vehicle. She had not been to the Annacurra cemetery to visit the grave of her husband and son for a few weeks. Kathy was a very good passenger, and I shall not interpret her comment that I made the journey that usually takes her half an hour, in 20 minutes. My top speed was 80 kph, and the average speed would have been about 60. The road from Carnew to Annacurra is pretty good - it has a painted white line, meaning there is in fact room for two cars travelling in opposite directions, to pass without one or the other having to become intimately acquainted with a hedge or ditch.
The sun was shining and it seemed a waste to drive Kathy home. So, as was her habit, we stopped in to visit the Floods. I asked if we should phone first but that was not required. Jo and John welcomed us warmly with tea and cupcakes. I passed on both and had a glass of water. I don't think anyone noticed a tiny bit of drool at the corner of my mouth when I decided to forego the sugar rush promised by each of the perfect little nicely-decorated delights.
From there it seemed like a good idea to visit someone else so Kathy called to be sure that one or another family member was at home. No luck - everyone was otherwise occupied. So, being forced by circumstances we went to the pub.
Actually, it was her brother Jim's pub. We settled for sparkling water as befits a Sunday in Lent, and also meets the Garda's tolerance level for drinking and driving. The acceptable level of alcohol is 0.00. This has put a dent in the pub business and increased the income of taxi drivers. Does that balance out? I guess that's only if you own the pub and taxi.
Once Kathy was safely returned to her cosy home, I returned to the Barn (remember that is the name of this cottage) to prepare for Monday's rather more lengthy journey.
I have the Autoaddress app, specific to Ireland, which helps you find your destination and uses google maps to get you there. Street addresses as I know them, have no meaning here in rural Wicklow. It's my handy-dandy get-to-your-destination magic director. So, I decided to set it up for Monday's outing.
Are you bored yet? Feel free to tune out. I'll never know so won't be offended. I think I need some wine before I continue. I'll just step to the counter and pour myself a glass of kooliburra Reserve Shiraz. OK, so I'm supporting the Australian economy too. I'm very generous that way. Ahhhhh - that's better.
Should I wash my hands again or use the hand sanitizer? It's been over an hour. Then again, I haven't seen anyone during that time. Just heard that Ireland now has 24 cases, here in the Republic, of the somewhat-dreaded Covid-19. I'm not worried because there is adequate toilet paper in the bathroom and a couple of bottles of water in the fridge. Oh yes, and assorted food and drink. It's hard to tell how bothered folks are. Here in the beauty of rural Wicklow folks are still shaking hands, although I did bump elbows yesterday just in case. On the other hand, all St Patrick's Day parades have been cancelled. Trinity College which has a couple of cases, has closed access to the Book of Kells and the Long Room. Aside from hearing about stockpiling of TP, I really don't know Canada's response at present.
Back to Monday's adventures. The destination was the National Library of Ireland, in Dublin. I won't drive in Dublin so a plan was devised. I would drive to Greystones and take the DART from there to Pearse Station, quite close to the NLI. Take note Ottawa, Ireland has an amazing on-time transportation system of rail, light rail and buses. And they provide wifi on board. Woo hoo. For those who require constant access to their phones, you needn't worry about withdrawal or using too much data while getting around.
John O, who lives here at Minmore, accompanied me in the car. He doesn't drive and complimented my driving. I guess I've gotten accustomed to being a shifty character. It's so easy to impress those who don't drive.
Using Autoaddress, with the destination set as Greystones DART station, we set out towards Shillelagh. Once through the village, any resemblance to any route previously taken by me in a car or by John on his bicycle, faded into mere memory. We saw some lovely forests, long distance views, and entirely new roads not previously taken. Most did not have a line down the middle. Half the road is too narrow, sometimes not much wider than the missing line. But we did get to Greystones and even found parking beside the station. Cost: 2 Euro per day. Bargain city!!!
We had just missed a DART to Dublin so had to wait half an hour. We managed to enjoy a cup of coffee in the warmth of the tiny coffee shop instead of standing in the drizzle. And then we were off. John travelled only to Bray but I continued to Pearse Station from which I had "easy" directions to the NLI. Hah! Easy directions for me??? Oxymoron time. But I don't lack courage when it comes to asking anyone to tell me where to go. Lucky day - the person I asked was walking to the building beside the library. I trotted along in the rain, as fast as I could, beside this chap who had really long strides.
Genealogy alert for those still awake:
Acquiring a Reader's Ticket was easy, as was putting my bag in a locker, as was trotting up the stairs to the Reading Room. I was directed to a computer where I could put in my order for manuscripts – for my next visit. They must be ordered at least 24 hours in advance. At that point, my brain switched off but a staff member gave me good instructions on how to order. I forgot only one thing – timing. You can order only 3 items at a time and you must specify what date and time you will pick them up. I remembered the date part and left the default time of 11:30. I ended up ordering about 18 items (6 orders), all for the same time. Part of the order includes your email address.
Voila - those folks are really on their toes. Within a few minutes, I had confirmation emails and one a bit more personalized. It reminded me that I had ordered everything for the same time. Not only can you only order 3 things at a time, but you can also only pick up three things at a time. Luckily, the email included a phone number which I happily called.
The lovely lady in the manuscripts room remembered my orders and very graciously amended all the times to 15-minute intervals. Beginning at 9:30 am for Thursday. Fine. I am a more than a couple of hours from the NLI if I make great time. The time I'd have to begin the journey to Dublin was getting a bit on the Zero-dark-thirty side. So, I still had that phone number and used it again. Same nice lady at the other end. She assured me that no matter what time I arrived, the things would be waiting.
You may remember that I have a propensity for getting lost. Well, Autoaddress and a helpful stranger made sure that the first part of my day's travels went well. I was on my own for the return.
Retracing my steps – in the rain – towards Pearse St DART station should have been a snap. Well, I snapped instead. Luckily I wasn't far past the corner I had to turn when I asked another stranger if I was on the route to Pearse Station. I was not. But it wasn't far off and my rain jacket was still dutifully keeping me dry. I got to the station to check the schedule and time for my train. 15:04 on Track 2. It was on time. I got on board. I was heading for Greystones, the last stop. When we were quite a ways along in the journey I noticed that the sign in the coach said "Destination Bray". What? That's one stop too short. And that's where I had to disembark.
My lovely friend Lynne, who I was supposed to meet in Greystones anyway to deliver what I'd brought for her from Canada, picked me up at the Bray station and drove me to Greystones where I met John, after giving Lynne her packages of biscuits. We had a chance to catch up a little on the ride. We will reunite in a week or so.
The drive back to Minmore was uneventful following Autoaddress and quite a different route than the one in the morning. Views were nice, through the rain. We got home safely. The only news here was that Tuesday, today, we'd have no electricity between 9 and 1. I made it just in time to make coffee this morning. Couldn't even warm up the refill.
Last evening Kathleen had the Byrne family to her home in Bolinrush and we had a fabulous evening, talking for hours. A late trip to the Caredocs in Gorey with the other Kathy, had me home after 1:30. No details will be provided. All's well that ends well. I had the best sleep since my arrival and got up just in time to make the coffee before we lost electricity.
I'll start another post for today's adventures.
Friday, March 6, 2020
Nothing to report today
There is no post today as I'm staying in and writing and maybe doing a bit of poking around in genealogy records online.
The weather is changing almost every minute. I awoke to rain, saw lots of fog and now it's sunny. If that lasts a bit longer I will probably go for a short trot around the cottages here to take a break from the laptop.
Have a great day.
The weather is changing almost every minute. I awoke to rain, saw lots of fog and now it's sunny. If that lasts a bit longer I will probably go for a short trot around the cottages here to take a break from the laptop.
Have a great day.
Thursday, March 5, 2020
A day of travel and genealogy
If you didn't check back to the previous post, the photos have been added
Mostly genealogy today with some travel bits:
Today I decided to drive to Kilkenny to do some research. The library had a microfilm that I was unable to find online in digital format. Turns out it is online, but under the wrong parish. Ah well, my eyes needed to become accustomed to microfilm again, if only to prove that digital images are much easier to read.
Using the Autoaddress app, which uses Google Maps, to tell me the route to follow, I input the Kilkenny Library as my destination and decided to follow the directions, well, mostly. The first part of the trip recommended very bad roads and I did know how to get to Clonegal and allowed the app to adjust. The app did then, adjust nicely to my decision.
I must say the "stick to the windshield" phone holder works like a charm. It clamps right onto the phone. Of course, it became very fond of the phone during the trip and was unwilling to let me take it back. However, I persevered and managed to unclamp it. On the next journey, I hope that clamp realizes its reign is short-lived.
Without incident, other than driving through low-lying fog for about 60% of the trip, it went very well. This was the first trip on roads with a speed limit high enough to use 5th gear.
Naturally, I chose a parking lot, upon arrival at my destination, that allowed only 1-hour parking for €1.50. When I talked with the librarian she told me that across the street, you could park all day for €2. Of course you can. An hour later I moved the VW to its longer-term location and I may have found the last open spot in the entire lot. It was such a cherished spot that I was barely "unparked" to drive back home, when the space was immediately re-occupied.
The librarians were friendly and helpful. The microfilm machine and the overhead light had minds of their own. The light is on a motion sensor. I wasn't moving around the room, so every so often it would just shut off. Fortunately, there was a window in the door so I had enough light to see while I took a few steps to where the sensor realized that I was still there. This little activity was repeated throughout the day. Hmmm - could it be a ploy to make sure that clients get up and move a bit?
The microfilm machine, despite being in constant use, would unexpectedly turn off its light. The Start button easily turned it back on. The first time I did this I was startled shortly thereafter as it loudly clunked about 20 seconds after the light was back on. This was also repeated many times during the day. I did eventually learn to wait for the clunk before proceeding.
I think I found the record of the baptism of Ellenor Walsh, my ggg grandmother. She was the only one by that name in the collection. She was baptised in 1815. That means she was 16 when she married John Brennan in 1831. It was six years after that when their first child was born - Catherine. I didn't get as far as that date in the records.
At lunchtime (1 to 2 pm) I wandered up a back lane to McDonagh Junction Mall where I enjoyed a nice cup of tomato basil soup and a bagel sandwich. Outside the main entrance of the mall was a very attractive monument, which is a "famine garden". This is probably the least depressing famine monument anywhere, and there were many that I saw on previous trips. The main sculpture is pictured here.
Behind the sculpture is a tomb, beneath which are the remains of hundreds of former occupants of the Kilkenny Union Workhouse, from famine times. The remains were discovered in much more recent times - right where they are. Some have been matched, I guess by DNA, to relatives.
The journey home was via Bunclody which added a few kms but allowed for a stop at Super Value to pick up a couple of needed items. Aside from stalling, on a hill, a few hundred meters from my cottage, when I'd pulled over almost into the hedge to let a tractor rumble by, the trip was without incident. I managed to roll back only a few meters when I started up again. Ah, sometimes I miss my automatic transmission.
Mostly genealogy today with some travel bits:
Today I decided to drive to Kilkenny to do some research. The library had a microfilm that I was unable to find online in digital format. Turns out it is online, but under the wrong parish. Ah well, my eyes needed to become accustomed to microfilm again, if only to prove that digital images are much easier to read.
Using the Autoaddress app, which uses Google Maps, to tell me the route to follow, I input the Kilkenny Library as my destination and decided to follow the directions, well, mostly. The first part of the trip recommended very bad roads and I did know how to get to Clonegal and allowed the app to adjust. The app did then, adjust nicely to my decision.
I must say the "stick to the windshield" phone holder works like a charm. It clamps right onto the phone. Of course, it became very fond of the phone during the trip and was unwilling to let me take it back. However, I persevered and managed to unclamp it. On the next journey, I hope that clamp realizes its reign is short-lived.
Without incident, other than driving through low-lying fog for about 60% of the trip, it went very well. This was the first trip on roads with a speed limit high enough to use 5th gear.
Naturally, I chose a parking lot, upon arrival at my destination, that allowed only 1-hour parking for €1.50. When I talked with the librarian she told me that across the street, you could park all day for €2. Of course you can. An hour later I moved the VW to its longer-term location and I may have found the last open spot in the entire lot. It was such a cherished spot that I was barely "unparked" to drive back home, when the space was immediately re-occupied.
The librarians were friendly and helpful. The microfilm machine and the overhead light had minds of their own. The light is on a motion sensor. I wasn't moving around the room, so every so often it would just shut off. Fortunately, there was a window in the door so I had enough light to see while I took a few steps to where the sensor realized that I was still there. This little activity was repeated throughout the day. Hmmm - could it be a ploy to make sure that clients get up and move a bit?
The microfilm machine, despite being in constant use, would unexpectedly turn off its light. The Start button easily turned it back on. The first time I did this I was startled shortly thereafter as it loudly clunked about 20 seconds after the light was back on. This was also repeated many times during the day. I did eventually learn to wait for the clunk before proceeding.
I think I found the record of the baptism of Ellenor Walsh, my ggg grandmother. She was the only one by that name in the collection. She was baptised in 1815. That means she was 16 when she married John Brennan in 1831. It was six years after that when their first child was born - Catherine. I didn't get as far as that date in the records.
At lunchtime (1 to 2 pm) I wandered up a back lane to McDonagh Junction Mall where I enjoyed a nice cup of tomato basil soup and a bagel sandwich. Outside the main entrance of the mall was a very attractive monument, which is a "famine garden". This is probably the least depressing famine monument anywhere, and there were many that I saw on previous trips. The main sculpture is pictured here.
 |
| See description in next photo. In the background, you see the grey "block" that marks the final resting place of the remains of 670 people who died in the Kilkenny workhouse during the Great Famine |
Behind the sculpture is a tomb, beneath which are the remains of hundreds of former occupants of the Kilkenny Union Workhouse, from famine times. The remains were discovered in much more recent times - right where they are. Some have been matched, I guess by DNA, to relatives.
 |
| Longer view of the famine memorial garden |
The journey home was via Bunclody which added a few kms but allowed for a stop at Super Value to pick up a couple of needed items. Aside from stalling, on a hill, a few hundred meters from my cottage, when I'd pulled over almost into the hedge to let a tractor rumble by, the trip was without incident. I managed to roll back only a few meters when I started up again. Ah, sometimes I miss my automatic transmission.
Wednesday, March 4, 2020
Back to the past
The day started slowly and the brain was a little distance behind. Eventually, they got synchronized – by noon that is.
As planned I had dinner with Kathy Doyle in Carnew at the community centre where she lives. It was lovely if a bit of a big meal for midday.
From there I drove down the road towards Gorey to the home of Marg Gilbert. Everything Marg plans for me turns out to be quite magical. We were to visit Marcella Byrne and go to Brigid's Well near her home. As it happens there are many similarly-named wells around Ireland. What was going to be special this time? Who cares? I knew it would be a remarkable afternoon and I was not disappointed.
HISTORY AND GENEALOGY WARNING: not specifically genealogy but I've left out the specific family bits - not my family - or at least I don't think so.
The road to Marcella's home at Bridewell was uphill and twisty but I've now gotten pretty close to driving smoothly, shifting gears with ease (OK, nearly), and not stalling. So, I started by stalling twice while turning the car around at Margaret's home before heading onto the road. After that, it was pretty much OK. Marg has no symptoms of whiplash – at least not yet.
Brideswell means Brigid's Well. It is near Askamore. I realize that tells you exactly the location. More detail? OK - near Ballyellis? Shrule? Munny? Ballyconran? I'm sure you've placed it by now. Let's just say Co Wexford and leave it at that.
http://www.megalithicireland.com/St%20Brigid%27s%20Well,%20Brideswell%20Big,%20Wexford.html
Marcella began with a brief history of the 1798 rebellion and I tried to turn my brain into a recording device – to no avail. That set the stage for what/where we were to visit. I continue to be in awe of how much history so many people know. I fear the day that one of them asks me about Canadian history. I'll have to divert their attention.
Anyway, the original well was marked on an Ordnance Survey map from the 1820s, along with Brigid's mark (footprint). The OS maps are very very detailed and this well is very near Marcella's home. As an aside, her home (where she lived at the time this project got underway) had been used as a safe house during the Irish Civil War in the early 1920s. Beside the house, and still standing, is the original farmhouse. The roof is now corrugated metal and was almost certainly thatched back in the early days. One end (with the window) was for the family. Moving along the building was the hen house, then possibly a pig or pigs, and then a place for the family's cow. The heat from the animals contributed to heating the family's home.
As a child, Marcella would get water from the aforementioned well, but it went dry and was eventually covered over.
Anyway, knowing about the well, Marcella and others set about finding and restoring it and the surroundings about 20 years ago. I can only imagine how difficult the project was. There was some money provided by the county and an archaeologist was involved. This 'expert' proved to be less helpful than expected, but there you go.
The entire area had been overgrown. The stone walls on the path now leading to the well were built by those restoring the place. Along the way are seven large stones representing the Beatitudes. The eighth is nearby along the wall of the old cemetery. These stones were not part of the original well area but carved and placed as part of the project. The cemetery holds a large number of graves but very few headstones. The oldest ones are now resting against the stone wall and are virtually unreadable. They have been transcribed and the wording is available.
Anyway, we wandered down the path to the site of the well. A small stream runs along and under one of the two dry stone huts which remain undated. They are similar to beehive huts found in Co Kerry and which date from early monastic times. These two form a sort of figure 8. The roofs have long since fallen away. They were probably made of the same stone.
The photos below are of the (white) former safe house, the original stone farmhouse, the old cemetery and the area of the well.
Following our little exploration we returned to Marcella's for tea and treats, and got into other stories and some genealogy connections. I'd had some of the information previously and can't positively connect it to my ancestors – but a remote possibility is to be explored. That takes care of my evening plans.
As we left, Marcella gave me a Brigid's Cross, made this year in the area of Co. Kilkenny that was home to my Brennan/Walsh/McGrath and Maher ancestors. It's a nice segue into tomorrow's trip to Kilkenny to do some research in the county library. There is supposed to be a microfilm that might, just might, reveal some secrets that will tell me more about my own ancestors.
As per usual, the 10 year gap in the records is actually the time period that would be most helpful, but you never know.
As planned I had dinner with Kathy Doyle in Carnew at the community centre where she lives. It was lovely if a bit of a big meal for midday.
From there I drove down the road towards Gorey to the home of Marg Gilbert. Everything Marg plans for me turns out to be quite magical. We were to visit Marcella Byrne and go to Brigid's Well near her home. As it happens there are many similarly-named wells around Ireland. What was going to be special this time? Who cares? I knew it would be a remarkable afternoon and I was not disappointed.
HISTORY AND GENEALOGY WARNING: not specifically genealogy but I've left out the specific family bits - not my family - or at least I don't think so.
The road to Marcella's home at Bridewell was uphill and twisty but I've now gotten pretty close to driving smoothly, shifting gears with ease (OK, nearly), and not stalling. So, I started by stalling twice while turning the car around at Margaret's home before heading onto the road. After that, it was pretty much OK. Marg has no symptoms of whiplash – at least not yet.
Brideswell means Brigid's Well. It is near Askamore. I realize that tells you exactly the location. More detail? OK - near Ballyellis? Shrule? Munny? Ballyconran? I'm sure you've placed it by now. Let's just say Co Wexford and leave it at that.
http://www.megalithicireland.com/St%20Brigid%27s%20Well,%20Brideswell%20Big,%20Wexford.html
Marcella began with a brief history of the 1798 rebellion and I tried to turn my brain into a recording device – to no avail. That set the stage for what/where we were to visit. I continue to be in awe of how much history so many people know. I fear the day that one of them asks me about Canadian history. I'll have to divert their attention.
Anyway, the original well was marked on an Ordnance Survey map from the 1820s, along with Brigid's mark (footprint). The OS maps are very very detailed and this well is very near Marcella's home. As an aside, her home (where she lived at the time this project got underway) had been used as a safe house during the Irish Civil War in the early 1920s. Beside the house, and still standing, is the original farmhouse. The roof is now corrugated metal and was almost certainly thatched back in the early days. One end (with the window) was for the family. Moving along the building was the hen house, then possibly a pig or pigs, and then a place for the family's cow. The heat from the animals contributed to heating the family's home.
As a child, Marcella would get water from the aforementioned well, but it went dry and was eventually covered over.
Anyway, knowing about the well, Marcella and others set about finding and restoring it and the surroundings about 20 years ago. I can only imagine how difficult the project was. There was some money provided by the county and an archaeologist was involved. This 'expert' proved to be less helpful than expected, but there you go.
The entire area had been overgrown. The stone walls on the path now leading to the well were built by those restoring the place. Along the way are seven large stones representing the Beatitudes. The eighth is nearby along the wall of the old cemetery. These stones were not part of the original well area but carved and placed as part of the project. The cemetery holds a large number of graves but very few headstones. The oldest ones are now resting against the stone wall and are virtually unreadable. They have been transcribed and the wording is available.
Anyway, we wandered down the path to the site of the well. A small stream runs along and under one of the two dry stone huts which remain undated. They are similar to beehive huts found in Co Kerry and which date from early monastic times. These two form a sort of figure 8. The roofs have long since fallen away. They were probably made of the same stone.
The photos below are of the (white) former safe house, the original stone farmhouse, the old cemetery and the area of the well.
Following our little exploration we returned to Marcella's for tea and treats, and got into other stories and some genealogy connections. I'd had some of the information previously and can't positively connect it to my ancestors – but a remote possibility is to be explored. That takes care of my evening plans.
As we left, Marcella gave me a Brigid's Cross, made this year in the area of Co. Kilkenny that was home to my Brennan/Walsh/McGrath and Maher ancestors. It's a nice segue into tomorrow's trip to Kilkenny to do some research in the county library. There is supposed to be a microfilm that might, just might, reveal some secrets that will tell me more about my own ancestors.
As per usual, the 10 year gap in the records is actually the time period that would be most helpful, but you never know.
 |
| With Marcella in front of the former safe house - the house in which she grew up |
 |
| The original home - living space was at the far end, with the window |
 |
| Old tombstones from 18th century |
 |
| Cemetery entrance - added in recent years |
 |
| Rock representing one of the Beatitudes |
 |
| The well |
 |
| Inside the formerly roofed hut |
 |
| Brigid's Mark (footprint) |
Tuesday, March 3, 2020
Catching up again
On days where nothing of much note actually transpires, I am loathe to bore you, dear reader. However, I'll give you a wee summary of the past couple of days. Feel free to tune out and shut this down.
Sunday morning I woke up in The Barn and the sun was again shining. It was also warmer than Saturday. I enjoyed my coffee for quite a long time before accomplishing much of anything. What I did accomplish was doing the laundry. That was hardly intensive labour - there is a washing machine that performed its duty appropriately and produced clean clothes. The drying rack in The Barn was pressed into service to give a lived-in look to the kitchen. That lived-in look lasted a bit longer than anticipated.
I was in touch with a few folks by text and email and in a couple of cases, by phone. However, it seems that my phone would happily make calls and exchange texts but refused any incoming calls. It took a while before anyone let me know. Being Sunday, there was no way to get Vodaphone to remedy the situation.
I had a little visit with Kathy Doyle so she could check that her car was behaving well and being well treated in return. Then I popped over to the Rocktavern to pick up one more bag that I had left on my last visit. I should add that I followed my instinct on the turns in the road that would take me to Carnew. Once again I was wrong. At least this time I wasn't lost and was able to get back on track within a few hundred yards.
Later, John O'Neill - my local researcher - dropped in with some interesting information. He lives about 30 yards from me so his journey was made on foot. A "Genealogy Alert" will follow shortly.
After John left I noticed that it was getting chilly. The sun was going down and the temperature was bearable but something was amiss. The thermostat is on a timer and it was currently "on". Checking the radiators resulted in a cool response. Hmmm. Surely not another failure of the system. Each cottage has its own furnace. I summoned Donal and he confirmed that once again there was a breakdown. A repair call was placed for Monday.
Donal brought over a lovely paraffin heater that soon made the living area warm, even toasty. The blue disappeared from my fingers. Well, upstairs anyway. I agreed that I could survive the night because there is a lovely duvet on the bed - downstairs. And I did.
When it was time to get up on Monday morning I considered just staying put under the duvet. The temperature in my room would have been about 7C. It was 9C upstairs - still not cosy. Now, I hate to be fussy, but that is a bit on the cold side for indoors. I only had to go upstairs and turn on the heater for fast relief.
As a side-effect of the lack of a working boiler, there was no hot water either. There was electricity, so the kettle was pressed into service and the coffee was appreciated for the caffeine and the mug was a warm thing to wrap my hands around.
I had errands to do in Bunclody, so off I went. The first order of business was to get the phone sorted out - check. Then pick up the library book on hold - Check. Then off to Moss Cottage to retrieve some long-lost items - Check. Visit Aldi for a couple of household items and the chocolate rations. Check, Oh yes, I also remembered to buy wine.
When I returned, the heat had been restored and the issue had been a minor one. The repairman moved on to The Store which I presume he got back in working order.
So, all's well with the world. Those with no interest in my family history can go back to what you were doing before. This blog is my diary so I shall add a bit now.
GENEALOGY FOLLOWS
Some years ago, John O had done research on my Brennan and McGrath ancestors in Kilkenny. I remember reading what he sent at the time. A package of documents, well copies, was also sent in the mail. Somehow I managed to either miss completely or misunderstand what he'd sent. But he has a mind like a steel trap and had remembered much of the information. He had kept the earlier emails and has re-sent them. I'd like to place an order for a brain like his. I haven't found a source yet.
The Brennan name is very very very common in the area of Kilkenny that mine come from. To make any real headway you have to know the family nickname. It has been in the documentation that John sent me a long time ago. It is GARD or GIAD - hard to tell from some of the writing but is almost surely GARD. Most likely that means that someone was a gardener. I will be going to the area they came from in a few days' time and maybe I'll make some headway. It seems that my ggg grandfather John Brennan was the son of James Brennan who was the son of Michael Brennan - all carried the nickname GARD.
On the emigration lists it shows the Widow Brennan GARD leaving in 1847 with just a couple of children. I knew that John Brennan had died prior to 1848 when Ellen remarried in Ottawa. I have also been unable to find any of her children other than my gg grandmother, Catherine Brennan. It's now likely that the boys James and William had died during the famine. The fate of her daughter Margaret is also unknown as I haven't found any certain records of her in Canada.
John also pointed out that the marriage and baptism information I have, which was sent from the Irish Family History Foundation, is entirely transcriptions. The originals have never been filmed. They are held in the church office. I've emailed the office but haven't had a reply yet. If I don't hear from them I'll just appear at their door. My hope is that a big smile and polite request might result in a peek at the registers themselves. Fingers crossed.
So - today I reviewed what I'd written about Arthur Byrne and am catching up on the history of the Coollattin Estate where they were sub-tenants. The information is in a book entitled "Surplus People" by Jim Rees. I'll be able to add some details to the life of the Byrnes in Ireland before and during their emigration.
There was a brief shower a few minutes ago that I only noticed because of the water on the skylights. It seems to have passed.
Time to get on with the reading and writing - fortunately there's no 'rithmatic on the schedule.
Sunday morning I woke up in The Barn and the sun was again shining. It was also warmer than Saturday. I enjoyed my coffee for quite a long time before accomplishing much of anything. What I did accomplish was doing the laundry. That was hardly intensive labour - there is a washing machine that performed its duty appropriately and produced clean clothes. The drying rack in The Barn was pressed into service to give a lived-in look to the kitchen. That lived-in look lasted a bit longer than anticipated.
I was in touch with a few folks by text and email and in a couple of cases, by phone. However, it seems that my phone would happily make calls and exchange texts but refused any incoming calls. It took a while before anyone let me know. Being Sunday, there was no way to get Vodaphone to remedy the situation.
I had a little visit with Kathy Doyle so she could check that her car was behaving well and being well treated in return. Then I popped over to the Rocktavern to pick up one more bag that I had left on my last visit. I should add that I followed my instinct on the turns in the road that would take me to Carnew. Once again I was wrong. At least this time I wasn't lost and was able to get back on track within a few hundred yards.
Later, John O'Neill - my local researcher - dropped in with some interesting information. He lives about 30 yards from me so his journey was made on foot. A "Genealogy Alert" will follow shortly.
After John left I noticed that it was getting chilly. The sun was going down and the temperature was bearable but something was amiss. The thermostat is on a timer and it was currently "on". Checking the radiators resulted in a cool response. Hmmm. Surely not another failure of the system. Each cottage has its own furnace. I summoned Donal and he confirmed that once again there was a breakdown. A repair call was placed for Monday.
Donal brought over a lovely paraffin heater that soon made the living area warm, even toasty. The blue disappeared from my fingers. Well, upstairs anyway. I agreed that I could survive the night because there is a lovely duvet on the bed - downstairs. And I did.
When it was time to get up on Monday morning I considered just staying put under the duvet. The temperature in my room would have been about 7C. It was 9C upstairs - still not cosy. Now, I hate to be fussy, but that is a bit on the cold side for indoors. I only had to go upstairs and turn on the heater for fast relief.
As a side-effect of the lack of a working boiler, there was no hot water either. There was electricity, so the kettle was pressed into service and the coffee was appreciated for the caffeine and the mug was a warm thing to wrap my hands around.
I had errands to do in Bunclody, so off I went. The first order of business was to get the phone sorted out - check. Then pick up the library book on hold - Check. Then off to Moss Cottage to retrieve some long-lost items - Check. Visit Aldi for a couple of household items and the chocolate rations. Check, Oh yes, I also remembered to buy wine.
When I returned, the heat had been restored and the issue had been a minor one. The repairman moved on to The Store which I presume he got back in working order.
So, all's well with the world. Those with no interest in my family history can go back to what you were doing before. This blog is my diary so I shall add a bit now.
GENEALOGY FOLLOWS
Some years ago, John O had done research on my Brennan and McGrath ancestors in Kilkenny. I remember reading what he sent at the time. A package of documents, well copies, was also sent in the mail. Somehow I managed to either miss completely or misunderstand what he'd sent. But he has a mind like a steel trap and had remembered much of the information. He had kept the earlier emails and has re-sent them. I'd like to place an order for a brain like his. I haven't found a source yet.
The Brennan name is very very very common in the area of Kilkenny that mine come from. To make any real headway you have to know the family nickname. It has been in the documentation that John sent me a long time ago. It is GARD or GIAD - hard to tell from some of the writing but is almost surely GARD. Most likely that means that someone was a gardener. I will be going to the area they came from in a few days' time and maybe I'll make some headway. It seems that my ggg grandfather John Brennan was the son of James Brennan who was the son of Michael Brennan - all carried the nickname GARD.
On the emigration lists it shows the Widow Brennan GARD leaving in 1847 with just a couple of children. I knew that John Brennan had died prior to 1848 when Ellen remarried in Ottawa. I have also been unable to find any of her children other than my gg grandmother, Catherine Brennan. It's now likely that the boys James and William had died during the famine. The fate of her daughter Margaret is also unknown as I haven't found any certain records of her in Canada.
John also pointed out that the marriage and baptism information I have, which was sent from the Irish Family History Foundation, is entirely transcriptions. The originals have never been filmed. They are held in the church office. I've emailed the office but haven't had a reply yet. If I don't hear from them I'll just appear at their door. My hope is that a big smile and polite request might result in a peek at the registers themselves. Fingers crossed.
So - today I reviewed what I'd written about Arthur Byrne and am catching up on the history of the Coollattin Estate where they were sub-tenants. The information is in a book entitled "Surplus People" by Jim Rees. I'll be able to add some details to the life of the Byrnes in Ireland before and during their emigration.
There was a brief shower a few minutes ago that I only noticed because of the water on the skylights. It seems to have passed.
Time to get on with the reading and writing - fortunately there's no 'rithmatic on the schedule.
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