Well I've been back in Bunclody since Thursday evening and I've hardly left the cottage. I went as far as the laundry room which is downstairs, but reached from outside. It's too damn cold and rainy and windy and nasty. I know, I know, it's not as bad as at home. But at least there I have the clothes for it. I would have to wear too many layers - which would not fit under my raincoat - in order to stay warm outdoors. And I have no mitts, my gloves being "good for above freezing" temperatures.
So - what to do in here to pass the time? Don't even ask. Genealogy of course. Well I did call a few friends at home. My cell roaming plan allows me to call Canada for free. Or rather, if I use the phone and pay the international roaming plan fee for the day, there is no additional charge for a call to Canada.
I still can't get many photos to upload from the little camera - still trying though. Leeds pics to come soon.
Tomorrow is promising to be sunny with a high of 10C, so Kathy Doyle and I are taking a little day trip to Castlecomer/Clogh area of Kilkenny. We will try to find the townlands that my ggg grandparents John Brennan and Ellen Walsh emigrated from. The townlands in question are Coolnaleen, Crutt and Clogh. I visited Clogh with Dad in 2008. We stopped in a shop and chatted briefly with the lady in charge. We were the only ones there. She asked the surname of the people we were researching. I asked her to guess and she said "Brennan". It's so common there that each family has a nickname to distinguish one from another. Sadly I don't know the nickname of my Brennans. Maybe I'll have more luck looking for the Walshs. Unlikely. In any case, we're sure to find a nice place for lunch.
Just now I got an email from Frank Keating and he and two siblings will be visiting the weekend of Feb 24th. Yay! I get to host somebody. Frank was a wonderful host and tour guide when Janet and I toured Ireland in 2015.
Genealogy alert:
I refer to a lot of ggg grandparents. You have two sets of grandparents, four sets of great grands, eight sets of great great grands and sixteen sets of three greats. I know all of the great greats' names and where they are from, at least their country. I also know most of the names of the triple greats and that's about as far back as I can get on almost any line. I have the names of the gggg ones from Co. Laois - Fennell; and Kildare - Whelan; and from Tipperary - Loughnane and McGrath. I also have McGraths from Kilkenny - at least that is supposed to be where they come from.
I got all excited about nothing this evening. I took a break from working on a family tree of the Abrahams (not actually my ancestors), to change counties and go west to Tipperary. A ggg grandmother was Bridget Loughnane, daughter of John Loughnane and Bridget McGrath from Cabragh, a townland in Tipperary. Or at least that's according to her marriage certificate for the wedding to Jean Baptiste Hebert in 1832 in Quebec. While looking for the baptism of Bridget Loughnane, in records from Thurles parish in Tipperary, I thought I'd found the parents of Michael McGrath.
These records are not indexed at all, and not alphabetized. They are images from microfilm which you can narrow down by either Baptism or Marriage and by year and month to start your search. They are not typed, of course, but hand-written. I think the writers took calligraphy lessons from doctors writing prescriptions. They use abbreviations, odd script, and seem not to care where they insert capital letters. Spelling is more or less phonetic - and not necessarily how I would pronounce them. My Canadian pronunciation interferes greatly with understanding.
The first word, in this particular parish's records, around 1810, was the name of the child being baptised. Looking for "Bridget" I also had to include Biddy, Brid and other possible abbreviations. The record lists the father's occupation after his name, followed by the mother's name and possibly their townland, then the sponsors and maybe their townlands.
Visually grazing through the records, I found a record which I thought named William McGrath and Mary Maher as parents. These are the names of the parents of my gg grandfather Michael McGrath. He was supposed to be from Kilkenny, but both McGrath and Maher are Tipperary names. Quickly I did a screen capture and saved it in Evernote. Then I had a closer look. What I thought was "Mary Maher" was actually the occupation of William. The second word is "Maker" not Maher, but exactly what sort of 'maker' is still in doubt. There were lots of others with this same occupation. Is it Bronye maker? Brony maker? Broxy maker? Boory maker? nothing makes sense. This is what I took at first to be 'Mary Maher'. Rats!! The mother's name turned out to be Bridge Leany. If you are a hand-writing expert please contact me and I'll send the record for your amusement and opinion.
So, on I trolled, once again concentrating on the name Bridget. No sign has been found of her family although I do occasionally find the Loughnane name. I've never found them in records for Cabragh or Cabra. Rats! I will continue to scan the pages until I've covered several years before and after the year of her supposed birth. She moved to Quebec - alone or with her parents is unknown - and married in 1832. She died in 1835 at the age of 22. That would mean her birth was in 1813, maybe. When did she immigrate? The early censuses in Canada East (Quebec) are of heads of household. No Loughnanes - or any name starting with 'Lou' - to be found in 1825.
So, I'll get back to the Abraham's for a bit and then call it a day. I have a reason to be up and about early-ish tomorrow. I'm looking forward to seeing more of the country. Who knows what route the GPS will lead us on and where we might end up.
Sunday, February 12, 2017
Friday, February 10, 2017
Meanwhile back in the deep freeze
It's cold here. I have lots of warm coats in Ottawa - but none of them here in Ireland. How stupid to have underestimated how chilly it could get. Tomorrow a little shopping trip is the plan - to find a warm coat and some mitts. Or, a pair of knitting needles, some wool and some roving to make some thrummed mittens.
The cottage is cosy although at the moment the laundry drying on the radiators and the drying rack is not adding any sort of atmosphere to the place. The washer is pretty good at cleaning but the spin cycle is not great. My washer at home almost spins things dry. Not so here. Two days indoors in a warmish room is needed for cotton turtleneck shirts - the mainstay of my wardrobe. Ah well, it humidifies the cottage.
I stopped in Athy after picking up my latest rental car yesterday. I had a nice long chat and info share with Clem Roche, a local genealogist. I can widen my search for the Fennells, having learned more about the townlands they might have inhabited. There were Fennells who were Quakers but I'm about 99% sure there is no connection. Their descendants still live in the area and there's been no evidence of conversions. There are apparently still a few Fennell families in the general area of Athy, but I've yet to locate them. I will however, visit Burtown House, owned by Quaker Fennells, where they have a beautiful garden and nice cafe.
There is also a possibility of finding some related Whelans. Michael Fennell, my ggg grandfather, was married to Bridget Whelan who was from the town of Athy. The folks at the Athy heritage centre are going to see if perhaps there is a connection with some Whelan families still there - possibly on the same street. It's a bit of sit and wait on that count, but I have lots to sort through in the meantime.
Back to the car. It's a Skoda Citgo - a not-very-lovely car. It's an automatic but thinks it's a jerky little manual. No pickup at all and it jerks when it switches gears. It's small and has a trunk that fits only my carry-on suitcase. I'm going to look into changing it. There is apparently a Hertz outlet in Wexford town so I might make a dual trip for research as well as 'car business' next week. Hopefully I will be wearing a new warmer coat and mitts.
The internet connection is only slightly more available than before I left, despite the provider saying the problem was fixed. It has been up and down all day, with a few hours consecutively. However, it seems that if I find something worth pursuing, the new website is not available because the connection has been lost. I might look into getting a portable wifi hotspot to supplement the service here.
So, tomorrow's program involves a little shopping trip. Not sure it's worth the drive to Kildare to the outlet mall. I don't need a name brand. It's more likely I'll to to Tullow or Gorey - opposite directions. I might flip a coin to decide which way to head out.
I still have not figured out how to get the pictures off my little phone and onto Dropbox. Of course I need a good connection to make it happen. One of these days I hope to surprise my loyal readers with photos from Leeds.
Just watched a tv show about the island of Inishbofin off the Atlantic Coast. There are lots of "flattish" walking trails and a vibrant traditional Irish music scene. I'll have to add it to the Irish bucket list. Given that it's on the west coast I'll wait a bit before planning an excursion. It's cold enough here, I'm not going off the coast until it's warmer.
Nothing else to report.
The cottage is cosy although at the moment the laundry drying on the radiators and the drying rack is not adding any sort of atmosphere to the place. The washer is pretty good at cleaning but the spin cycle is not great. My washer at home almost spins things dry. Not so here. Two days indoors in a warmish room is needed for cotton turtleneck shirts - the mainstay of my wardrobe. Ah well, it humidifies the cottage.
I stopped in Athy after picking up my latest rental car yesterday. I had a nice long chat and info share with Clem Roche, a local genealogist. I can widen my search for the Fennells, having learned more about the townlands they might have inhabited. There were Fennells who were Quakers but I'm about 99% sure there is no connection. Their descendants still live in the area and there's been no evidence of conversions. There are apparently still a few Fennell families in the general area of Athy, but I've yet to locate them. I will however, visit Burtown House, owned by Quaker Fennells, where they have a beautiful garden and nice cafe.
There is also a possibility of finding some related Whelans. Michael Fennell, my ggg grandfather, was married to Bridget Whelan who was from the town of Athy. The folks at the Athy heritage centre are going to see if perhaps there is a connection with some Whelan families still there - possibly on the same street. It's a bit of sit and wait on that count, but I have lots to sort through in the meantime.
Back to the car. It's a Skoda Citgo - a not-very-lovely car. It's an automatic but thinks it's a jerky little manual. No pickup at all and it jerks when it switches gears. It's small and has a trunk that fits only my carry-on suitcase. I'm going to look into changing it. There is apparently a Hertz outlet in Wexford town so I might make a dual trip for research as well as 'car business' next week. Hopefully I will be wearing a new warmer coat and mitts.
The internet connection is only slightly more available than before I left, despite the provider saying the problem was fixed. It has been up and down all day, with a few hours consecutively. However, it seems that if I find something worth pursuing, the new website is not available because the connection has been lost. I might look into getting a portable wifi hotspot to supplement the service here.
So, tomorrow's program involves a little shopping trip. Not sure it's worth the drive to Kildare to the outlet mall. I don't need a name brand. It's more likely I'll to to Tullow or Gorey - opposite directions. I might flip a coin to decide which way to head out.
I still have not figured out how to get the pictures off my little phone and onto Dropbox. Of course I need a good connection to make it happen. One of these days I hope to surprise my loyal readers with photos from Leeds.
Just watched a tv show about the island of Inishbofin off the Atlantic Coast. There are lots of "flattish" walking trails and a vibrant traditional Irish music scene. I'll have to add it to the Irish bucket list. Given that it's on the west coast I'll wait a bit before planning an excursion. It's cold enough here, I'm not going off the coast until it's warmer.
Nothing else to report.
Wednesday, February 8, 2017
Back in Eire
England was great - especially my weekend with the Burgess family. Didn't find out much at the Archives although I will review my photos and notes. Walking to the train station today, on the bench where I found the frozen jeans a couple of days ago, I noticed the bench was quite occupied. There were three people sitting on it and one standing in front. They seemed a bit uneasy at my approach. I wasn't exactly approaching the bench, it just happened to be there on the path I was taking into town.
Seems that it is a branch office of a clinic. A drug clinic. More specifically an illegal drug clinic. The three "occupants" were shooting up. I just wandered on by and as they were quite busy with their activities, they just ignored me. Whew!
I tried to get a closer picture of the "curling rocks" or "tea kettles" - not sure how well it came out. Then the phone, which is my camera, shut down. Out of juice. I'd had it plugged in all night, but when will I learn to turn on the switch beside the outlet. Arrrggghhh. Fortunately I'd left on the switch on the outlet the laptop was using to juice up.
In the train station I was in the ticket purchase lineup when a young woman asked if I'd like a ticket at a discount. The advertised price online was about 17 pounds (I have no symbol for Euros or Pounds on this keyboard) and I got this one for 10. She had purchased the wrong ticket and was unable to exchange it.
So, off I went to Leeds. It was a pretty quick trip. All along the route I noticed something that in fact I'd been noticing all week in Sheffield. There's a sort of black haze over almost everything. The older buildings are tinged with black stuff that I think was soot. It even seemed like the trees were too black. This is - I think - the Midlands, where coal and industry from back in the 19th century, was predominant. It certainly left its mark.
When I got to Leeds it was far too early to go to the airport so I decided to check my bag at the Left Luggage office and wander around town. No camera. The entire batch of batteries I'd bought was no good so using the camera was out of the question. My phone was dead. Aha - my little Irish phone. I've got to update the minutes on it tomorrow, but in the meantime the camera works.
Leeds is eye candy to anyone who appreciates the old architecture - many colours, many details, all interesting. I found my way to the (I think) Kingsgate Market. It's a huge interesting structure that has been added to over the years. There is also an outdoor portion, rather like a flea market. Inside there is a fish market, meat market, and all sorts of businesses - flower shops, a Marks and Spencer, bakeries, clothing, fabrics and general flotsam and jetsam. Then I walked back outside and into The Core - another shopping area. It's all a combo of the old and the new. They have everything from an 18th century pub that is still open to the latest in designer shops. My little phone stayed heated up from all the pictures I took. Can't wait to see them larger than a couple of inches square.
Only one problem, I'm not sure how to upload pictures from it to Dropbox. I have only ever used it for calls and texts. I can charge it with a USB cable plugged into the laptop. However, I can't use the cable to transfer photos. For reasons unknown, the Android converter app on the Mac doesn't like pictures from the phone.
So when I get back to Bunclody I'll find a ten year old and hopefully get it all set up.
Disembarking at Terminal 2 upon arrival from Leeds, I wondered what the immigration officer would ask regarding the 90 day visit, which is actually 100 days. He simply said, "you've been here before". I replied "Yes" and he said "enjoy your stay". So I beetled on out of there and assume that I'm fine to stay until April 13th. Ta-da.
I had decided to stay in Dublin overnight and had pre-booked and paid for a room at the Maldron Hotel. They have a shuttle service from the airport. So, upon exiting the terminal I asked a security guard where I'd find the shuttle to the Maldron. He told me area 16 so off I trundled. It was quite a long walk. No sign of the Maldron bus. I had managed to charge the phone part way at Leeds airport so made a call to the hotel. Their bus stop is just outside the entrance to the terminal. About 100 feet from where I asked directions. So, back I went. Got my steps in today for sure.
The bus showed up as promised and I had a nice chat with the driver, Donald, as I was the lone passenger. He even carried my suitcase up the steps, whereas I would have used the ramp and not been upset about it. He suggested a nice cup of tea to warm me up. Once checked in I settled for a nice hot meal instead. Lamb shank - delicious.
Now I'm settled into a very nice room and will shortly turn out the lights. I've started reading the book I bought at the Quarry Bank cotton mill - How to be a Victorian. It's delightful - well written, informative and even funny. Would I like to be a Victorian - NO! However it does put context around the lives of my English great and great great grandparents. I'll read a bit before drifting off.
So, when I figure out the camera upload thing I'll post pics.
I wonder what make and model of rental car I'll get tomorrow when I go to Hertz again for round 2.
Seems that it is a branch office of a clinic. A drug clinic. More specifically an illegal drug clinic. The three "occupants" were shooting up. I just wandered on by and as they were quite busy with their activities, they just ignored me. Whew!
I tried to get a closer picture of the "curling rocks" or "tea kettles" - not sure how well it came out. Then the phone, which is my camera, shut down. Out of juice. I'd had it plugged in all night, but when will I learn to turn on the switch beside the outlet. Arrrggghhh. Fortunately I'd left on the switch on the outlet the laptop was using to juice up.
In the train station I was in the ticket purchase lineup when a young woman asked if I'd like a ticket at a discount. The advertised price online was about 17 pounds (I have no symbol for Euros or Pounds on this keyboard) and I got this one for 10. She had purchased the wrong ticket and was unable to exchange it.
So, off I went to Leeds. It was a pretty quick trip. All along the route I noticed something that in fact I'd been noticing all week in Sheffield. There's a sort of black haze over almost everything. The older buildings are tinged with black stuff that I think was soot. It even seemed like the trees were too black. This is - I think - the Midlands, where coal and industry from back in the 19th century, was predominant. It certainly left its mark.
When I got to Leeds it was far too early to go to the airport so I decided to check my bag at the Left Luggage office and wander around town. No camera. The entire batch of batteries I'd bought was no good so using the camera was out of the question. My phone was dead. Aha - my little Irish phone. I've got to update the minutes on it tomorrow, but in the meantime the camera works.
Leeds is eye candy to anyone who appreciates the old architecture - many colours, many details, all interesting. I found my way to the (I think) Kingsgate Market. It's a huge interesting structure that has been added to over the years. There is also an outdoor portion, rather like a flea market. Inside there is a fish market, meat market, and all sorts of businesses - flower shops, a Marks and Spencer, bakeries, clothing, fabrics and general flotsam and jetsam. Then I walked back outside and into The Core - another shopping area. It's all a combo of the old and the new. They have everything from an 18th century pub that is still open to the latest in designer shops. My little phone stayed heated up from all the pictures I took. Can't wait to see them larger than a couple of inches square.
Only one problem, I'm not sure how to upload pictures from it to Dropbox. I have only ever used it for calls and texts. I can charge it with a USB cable plugged into the laptop. However, I can't use the cable to transfer photos. For reasons unknown, the Android converter app on the Mac doesn't like pictures from the phone.
So when I get back to Bunclody I'll find a ten year old and hopefully get it all set up.
Disembarking at Terminal 2 upon arrival from Leeds, I wondered what the immigration officer would ask regarding the 90 day visit, which is actually 100 days. He simply said, "you've been here before". I replied "Yes" and he said "enjoy your stay". So I beetled on out of there and assume that I'm fine to stay until April 13th. Ta-da.
I had decided to stay in Dublin overnight and had pre-booked and paid for a room at the Maldron Hotel. They have a shuttle service from the airport. So, upon exiting the terminal I asked a security guard where I'd find the shuttle to the Maldron. He told me area 16 so off I trundled. It was quite a long walk. No sign of the Maldron bus. I had managed to charge the phone part way at Leeds airport so made a call to the hotel. Their bus stop is just outside the entrance to the terminal. About 100 feet from where I asked directions. So, back I went. Got my steps in today for sure.
The bus showed up as promised and I had a nice chat with the driver, Donald, as I was the lone passenger. He even carried my suitcase up the steps, whereas I would have used the ramp and not been upset about it. He suggested a nice cup of tea to warm me up. Once checked in I settled for a nice hot meal instead. Lamb shank - delicious.
Now I'm settled into a very nice room and will shortly turn out the lights. I've started reading the book I bought at the Quarry Bank cotton mill - How to be a Victorian. It's delightful - well written, informative and even funny. Would I like to be a Victorian - NO! However it does put context around the lives of my English great and great great grandparents. I'll read a bit before drifting off.
So, when I figure out the camera upload thing I'll post pics.
I wonder what make and model of rental car I'll get tomorrow when I go to Hertz again for round 2.
Tuesday, February 7, 2017
Going up?
Well this is Sheffield - lots of ups and downs. Seems like more UPs but that's not possible. However, this evening I found a flat area. For about 200 yards, as a reward for walking up a 45 degree hill for several minutes, there was a street on which you could actually stand with both feet at the same altitude, no matter which way you turned.
From the hilly area where I've been staying, in a wonderful Victorian house with loads of atmosphere and the highest ceilings I've ever seen, it's about a 20 minute walk into town. There are plenty of modern buildings, as you see, many of which seem to be part of the university. Here and there however, are old spires poking through to remind you that the history of this place is much older than Canada. The spires are a nice contrast to the glass and bricks, and especially to a building I've yet to identify. I can't decide whether it looks more like a modern tea kettle or a giant curling rock with a sort of spout for a handle. It is situated among so many other buildings I have not had a good angle for a picture. Tomorrow, if the weather is nice, while I'm biding my time before the train to Leeds, I might try to find a good angle. Actually there are four of these "handle tops" on the one building and you might see them in the centre of the picture of the stairs down to the train station (below).
The pictures I took don't really do this place justice. It seemed wrong somehow to take pictures of the interesting homes along the route that leads me to and from the archives. There are very stately old homes of stone. Whether the stone was always darkish, or became so with the ravages of time, I don't know. Some of these places are very large - and all are behind stone walls. What is it with Britain and Ireland that everyone's land is surrounded by walls? They do make nice backdrops for gardens so maybe that's it - something for ivy, clematis and other plants to grow on might be their purpose.
There are also 'row houses' of various sorts. One string of these homes seemed to be hexagonal, joined on one surface and kind of winding a bit. I can only wonder at the shapes of the rooms inside. I do seem to be passing the most interesting homes when it's too dark to take pictures. In the morning it's all business en route into town. Coming home it's already dark and the winding path through the woods that is so lovely at 9 am, is not where I want to go at 6 when it's dark.
Walking into town this morning - somewhat later than yesterday I must confess - I stopped a couple of times to enjoy the view. I love overlooking the city from the cholera monument and hadn't realized how old the monument itself was. Sadly the signs around it have been vandalized. Here's a link to some info for those so inclined. I personally have never seen a monument to an illness. In all fairness, it is to honour those who died of cholera in 1832.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cholera_Monument_Grounds_and_Clay_Wood
The winding paths provide a nice start to the day and in the morning I do take the route by the monument. This morning I noticed that the abandoned jeans and jacket that were covered with frost yesterday had disappeared. I wonder if the owner returned for them - re-materializing out of the mist perhaps - or if someone had picked them up and disposed of them. I'll never know.
Nearby were some daffodils on the verge of blooming. This is February but it's not Ottawa in February, so daffodils are free to bloom without having to wait until the snow disappears and the ground thaws. There is no snow and the ground is not frozen. Chalk one up for the Brits and their damp weather.
Finally caught up with photos so hope you enjoyed them.
Genealogy alert - you can stop reading now.
The main purpose of my visit to Sheffield was to review manuscripts from the Fitzwilliam Estate, home of Arthur Byrne and family in County Wicklow. Their landlord was a Yorkshire man and his papers are held here. Unfortunately the rental records, which were kept annually, only included the head tenants and not the sub-tenants, among whom Arthur was counted, or rather, ignored.
Plots of land up to several hundred acres, and down to a "cabbin and garden" could be rented from the English landlord of Malton Estate, later known as Coolattin. The leases were held for "lives". Signing the lease included specifying the duration would include the life of a designated, and usually younger, person. They all started on Lady Day, 25 March, and ended usually twenty to thirty years later. Rent was due twice a year and seemed to be fixed for the duration of the lease.
Arthur never climbed the ladder to head tenant, having a lease in his name. Another interesting thing to note is that any time a tenant was Roman Catholic it was noted in the lease. There were not many such notes. There were also not many Byrnes, despite the fact that it is about the most common surname in Wicklow.
While Arthur was living in Coolross/Coolruss, his direct landlord had the surname James. That family had been on the estate for a very long time. There were however, two Byrnes that had leases at Coolruss (sic) - one was Charles Byrne and later a John Byrne acquired a lease on part of the land previously held by Charles. I don't recall if they were related. Are we related to either of them? I don't know. I do know that there was nobody named Charles in our line so that makes him an unlikely ancestor. My own branch from Arthur, did not have any sons named John, but the branch from Michael Byrne - a relative at Coolruss - continues to use the name John.
I made notes and took photos of records which seemed likely to have some relevance to our family history. I have yet to sort them out - that pleasure remains on the agenda once I'm back at Moss Cottage. Even if the internet connection remains troublesome - oh please, don't be troublesome - I can work with these offline.
There is one tantalizing reference to Arthur Byrnes - yes, there was an 's' but I'm not sure it was accurately recorded. The name is never spelt with an 's' in Wicklow. This fellow had built or rather restored/renovated/fixed a house where his mother Mary was living, and was asking compensation from Earl Fitzwilliam. He got half a year's rent free instead. My Arthur would have been only a teenager at the time. Is it likely that, despite him being a carpenter in later years, such a young man would have done that job? Could it have been the father of my guy? What makes it totally questionable is that it was not at Coolross, but a few miles away. But that was the only appearance of the name Arthur.
I did however, find the year in which Mary Abraham signed a lease at Monahullen (insert here your favourite spelling for that townland. The variations are endless). They were the first Abraham family I encountered. For a while I kept thinking I'd found very early records of the Abrahams. However, when I woke up and smelled the coffee, Abraham was a first name, not a surname.
Reading the Memoranda books - about 30 years worth - was interesting. I didn't have time to linger and read all of the entries. I browsed for names of people and townlands and was usually disappointed at the lack of results - i.e. what I was seeking.
So, once back on Irish soil I will have my work cut out to see if anything I found proves to be at all useful. I do know that I'd like to spend more time in England. However, it is very much more expensive here than in Ireland. I have not shopped for anything but meals so can't comment on souvenirs or clothing, but feeding oneself sure eats into the budget - pardon the pun.
Time to call it a day. Next report from Ireland.
Last part of the walk into town - Sunday evening after arrival; train station at the bottom of the steps
Anyone for the cholera monument?
you have to go up, to later go down, and then up again - repeat repeat
the holly and the ivy
From the hilly area where I've been staying, in a wonderful Victorian house with loads of atmosphere and the highest ceilings I've ever seen, it's about a 20 minute walk into town. There are plenty of modern buildings, as you see, many of which seem to be part of the university. Here and there however, are old spires poking through to remind you that the history of this place is much older than Canada. The spires are a nice contrast to the glass and bricks, and especially to a building I've yet to identify. I can't decide whether it looks more like a modern tea kettle or a giant curling rock with a sort of spout for a handle. It is situated among so many other buildings I have not had a good angle for a picture. Tomorrow, if the weather is nice, while I'm biding my time before the train to Leeds, I might try to find a good angle. Actually there are four of these "handle tops" on the one building and you might see them in the centre of the picture of the stairs down to the train station (below).
Can you spot any of the church spires? They seem to have disappeared.
Tudor style building is The Howard - a pub where I ate on Monday
Taken near the archives - that green hill in the distance is where the steps are
going down is easy - in the morning - when you are not tired; try them at 6 pm going the other way!
The pictures I took don't really do this place justice. It seemed wrong somehow to take pictures of the interesting homes along the route that leads me to and from the archives. There are very stately old homes of stone. Whether the stone was always darkish, or became so with the ravages of time, I don't know. Some of these places are very large - and all are behind stone walls. What is it with Britain and Ireland that everyone's land is surrounded by walls? They do make nice backdrops for gardens so maybe that's it - something for ivy, clematis and other plants to grow on might be their purpose.
There are also 'row houses' of various sorts. One string of these homes seemed to be hexagonal, joined on one surface and kind of winding a bit. I can only wonder at the shapes of the rooms inside. I do seem to be passing the most interesting homes when it's too dark to take pictures. In the morning it's all business en route into town. Coming home it's already dark and the winding path through the woods that is so lovely at 9 am, is not where I want to go at 6 when it's dark.
Walking into town this morning - somewhat later than yesterday I must confess - I stopped a couple of times to enjoy the view. I love overlooking the city from the cholera monument and hadn't realized how old the monument itself was. Sadly the signs around it have been vandalized. Here's a link to some info for those so inclined. I personally have never seen a monument to an illness. In all fairness, it is to honour those who died of cholera in 1832.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cholera_Monument_Grounds_and_Clay_Wood
The winding paths provide a nice start to the day and in the morning I do take the route by the monument. This morning I noticed that the abandoned jeans and jacket that were covered with frost yesterday had disappeared. I wonder if the owner returned for them - re-materializing out of the mist perhaps - or if someone had picked them up and disposed of them. I'll never know.
Nearby were some daffodils on the verge of blooming. This is February but it's not Ottawa in February, so daffodils are free to bloom without having to wait until the snow disappears and the ground thaws. There is no snow and the ground is not frozen. Chalk one up for the Brits and their damp weather.
Finally caught up with photos so hope you enjoyed them.
Genealogy alert - you can stop reading now.
The main purpose of my visit to Sheffield was to review manuscripts from the Fitzwilliam Estate, home of Arthur Byrne and family in County Wicklow. Their landlord was a Yorkshire man and his papers are held here. Unfortunately the rental records, which were kept annually, only included the head tenants and not the sub-tenants, among whom Arthur was counted, or rather, ignored.
Plots of land up to several hundred acres, and down to a "cabbin and garden" could be rented from the English landlord of Malton Estate, later known as Coolattin. The leases were held for "lives". Signing the lease included specifying the duration would include the life of a designated, and usually younger, person. They all started on Lady Day, 25 March, and ended usually twenty to thirty years later. Rent was due twice a year and seemed to be fixed for the duration of the lease.
Arthur never climbed the ladder to head tenant, having a lease in his name. Another interesting thing to note is that any time a tenant was Roman Catholic it was noted in the lease. There were not many such notes. There were also not many Byrnes, despite the fact that it is about the most common surname in Wicklow.
While Arthur was living in Coolross/Coolruss, his direct landlord had the surname James. That family had been on the estate for a very long time. There were however, two Byrnes that had leases at Coolruss (sic) - one was Charles Byrne and later a John Byrne acquired a lease on part of the land previously held by Charles. I don't recall if they were related. Are we related to either of them? I don't know. I do know that there was nobody named Charles in our line so that makes him an unlikely ancestor. My own branch from Arthur, did not have any sons named John, but the branch from Michael Byrne - a relative at Coolruss - continues to use the name John.
I made notes and took photos of records which seemed likely to have some relevance to our family history. I have yet to sort them out - that pleasure remains on the agenda once I'm back at Moss Cottage. Even if the internet connection remains troublesome - oh please, don't be troublesome - I can work with these offline.
There is one tantalizing reference to Arthur Byrnes - yes, there was an 's' but I'm not sure it was accurately recorded. The name is never spelt with an 's' in Wicklow. This fellow had built or rather restored/renovated/fixed a house where his mother Mary was living, and was asking compensation from Earl Fitzwilliam. He got half a year's rent free instead. My Arthur would have been only a teenager at the time. Is it likely that, despite him being a carpenter in later years, such a young man would have done that job? Could it have been the father of my guy? What makes it totally questionable is that it was not at Coolross, but a few miles away. But that was the only appearance of the name Arthur.
I did however, find the year in which Mary Abraham signed a lease at Monahullen (insert here your favourite spelling for that townland. The variations are endless). They were the first Abraham family I encountered. For a while I kept thinking I'd found very early records of the Abrahams. However, when I woke up and smelled the coffee, Abraham was a first name, not a surname.
Reading the Memoranda books - about 30 years worth - was interesting. I didn't have time to linger and read all of the entries. I browsed for names of people and townlands and was usually disappointed at the lack of results - i.e. what I was seeking.
So, once back on Irish soil I will have my work cut out to see if anything I found proves to be at all useful. I do know that I'd like to spend more time in England. However, it is very much more expensive here than in Ireland. I have not shopped for anything but meals so can't comment on souvenirs or clothing, but feeding oneself sure eats into the budget - pardon the pun.
Time to call it a day. Next report from Ireland.
Sunday, February 5, 2017
Wonderful weekend - sad to see it end
I'm now happily resting in my B&B in Sheffield. It's in a lovely Victorian home, recently restored, that has extremely high ceilings. Lovely, except when you realize this also means that the staircase up to the first floor bedrooms, is much longer than I am used to. The host very kindly picked up my little suitcase and brought it up for me. I got a key to the front door. Now I just have to figure out how to turn the doorknob. It's quite interesting to look at but I think I may need rubber gloves to grip it.
Now I'll back up a bit. A lot has happened since my last epistle. Getting up early for the flight to Leeds was not an issue. I picked up my "bag breakfast" of a muffin, a banana and a cup of coffee in the hotel lobby and waited for the airport shuttle. I had booked on Aer Lingus because of the necessity of arriving back in Dublin in Terminal 1. So, from the shuttle I got off at Terminal 1, which was the stop after Terminal 2. Whatever. Then I checked the departures board looking for my gate. It was in Terminal 1. So, I got in half of my 10,000 steps schlepping back through the upward sloping passage that joins the terminals. Fortunately I'm travelling with a small carry-on suitcase on four wheels that roll beautifully. I had checked in online and had my boarding pass on my phone. No need to find the ticket counter. All I had to find was the gate.
Eventually, at the right gate, we were called for boarding. I thought it was for the plane - nope - it was for the bus that drives you to the plane. It seemed for a while that we were driving to Mullingar in the centre of Ireland. That is one big airport. Once at the plane - what? that little thing? - we boarded via a very narrow staircase at the back. And I found my even narrower seat in Row 2. The flight was smooth as silk and the landing was soft - all in all, much better than anticipated. The wild rain and wind of the day before had departed overnight.
At Leeds airport I boarded a train just outside the terminal, to the downtown rail station. There I bought my ticket and was soon en route to Manchester's Victoria Station. Waiting for me there were Danuta and David Burgess. I'd last seen Danuta almost 45 years ago, but conversation flowed as smoothly as if we'd been in frequent touch. We walked to Piccadilly Station where I checked my bag so walking around would be easier. The bag went through a security procedure that would make the TSA proud.
We lunched at a nice cafe where Dominic Burgess popped in briefly to say hello, and then we went to the Manchester Art Gallery. The exhibition we explored was a series of photographs taken in England over several decades, by photographers from other countries. It is interesting to see life through the eyes of a photographer - especially one who is capturing what he/she feels is the essence of a place that is not familiar.
From there we went to the public library - a building that reminds me of St Paul's with the huge dome. The interior has been completely modernized and the exterior maintains the original structure. All around it are examples of mainly Victorian architecture with a few modern buildings sprinkled around. All in all a lovely afternoon.
We used the tram system to return to Stockport where David reclaimed the car from the parking lot and we headed for their home. The tea and apple cake were a lovely treat and my tired feet were pleased to have a rest. I met Mrs Maj, Danuta's Mom, having heard of her over the years. She's a sweetie. After work Dominic and Iona came in and later the three of us enjoyed an Italian dinner at a nice restaurant that is walking distance from their new condo.
More exercise was worked into the day on the stairs leading to their second floor apartment. Here remember, you walk up one flight to the first floor. It had been a long but very satisfying day.
Saturday dawned clear and sunny and chilly. I borrowed a toque and mitts from Danuta. My recently purchased woolly scarf was put to good use. My own toque was in Dublin and my gloves were not very warm. The first impression on seeing a photo of Danuta and me that was taken later that morning, was of a couple of nuns. Yikes!
Quarry Bank cotton mill was on the agenda. What a great choice. My Sunderland ancestors worked in the woollen mills in Bradford in the 19th century and I hadn't ever heard of the cotton mills in the Manchester area. It was a short drive to the site which is managed by the National Trust. I can only compare that to Parks Canada, but this includes heritage buildings.
Timing is everything. The weather was nice, if frosty, but the gardens were closed. This didn't surprise me as it is February and no Canadian gardens would be open, but we were just a week too early. The home of the mill owners, the Gregs, was also closed until next week. The grounds were lovely for a peaceful stroll. Then we went into the mill.
Now that it is a heritage site, the machinery still mostly works, but not all at once. To think that these huge machines were invented and worked so efficiently over 100 years ago is amazing. The Gregs were quite generous employers compared to others, but the 15 hour days with a few minutes break for tea and lunch, must have been gruelling. With the machines all clattering away the din would have been deafening.
I was surprised to see that the lives of the women workers were featured and that the Greg family valued education - of women. There were examples of their everyday lives and believe me I would not volunteer to go back to those times. The Victorians gave us many things, but leisure for the working class was not one of them.
Having taken in what we could and having stopped for lunch in the cafe, we rested briefly. The cafe was full and we had a hard time finding a table. Danuta spied a family preparing to leave so she and I kind of hovered around as the parents got the two youngsters organized. They recommended the soup so we had the (mushroom) soup which came with a Granary Blossom. No - it was not any sort of flower. It was a large wedge of multigrain bread - very tasty.
Sufficiently restored, we then returned to Stockport to the market square. On the street front was a sign for Staircase House. Doesn't every two or more storey house have a staircase? This one did not disappoint. The staircase was the feature of note - mostly. This home was built in the 16th century with an interesting combination of wattle and daub, plaster, bricks and mortar and wood beams. It was heavily damaged by fire in the more recent past, but the city - in a great show of wisdom - decided to restore rather than ravage the building. The staircase was as badly burnt as the rest of the house but enough was untouched so that the restorers were able to discern the wood engravings on the banisters and whatever you call the parts between the handrail and the stairs. It is not ornate but considering that it is so very old, is quite remarkable.
It is not like visiting a house that you see from the street. You don't see it from the street. I guess the front didn't survive the fire. For one directionally challenged like myself, it was hard to get my bearings inside. To be realistic, getting your bearings in a house that seems to sprawl left and right is one thing. Getting your balance on floors that are not only sloped, but the stuff of skateboard tracks, is quite a challenge. Presumably all the heaving that cause the "uneven" flooring, happened over the past several hundred years, and was not part if the initial construction. I mean, this place has survived sort of intact and if the floors had started out the way they are now I doubt it would have made its first century.
The entire home was really amazing. It is furnished in some rooms, to represent different time periods in the life of the house. I would not have done well in any of those eras but I do have to admire those who did. It was fascinating to tour this place and I hope it becomes a major attraction.
We had supper at the Burgess home and I spent part of the evening chatting with Mrs. Maj. She has had a very interesting life even if there was a period of time that was very very difficult. She has written her story, in Polish, and is now waiting for her younger daughter to complete the translation into English.
This morning, Dominic and Iona took me to Elizabeth Gaskell's house in Stockport. She was a well known writer and had feminist views before her time. I will have to find some of her books - Cranford comes to mind and I think there was one titled North and South. The house had fallen into disrepair after the last inhabitants left. Restoration began in 2004 and has recreated the original carpets, mouldings, wallpapers and some furnishings. They are true to the period, but as all of the family possessions were auctioned after the death of the last daughter in 1913, were not the items that actually belonged to the Gaskell family.
Danuta cooked us an amazing dinner, topped off with a chocolate and pair pudding cake from the Nigella Lawson cookbook. The meal was a wonderful conclusion to a great weekend with people I now consider to be good friends. I hope we can get together - somewhere - before another 45 years elapses.
Dominic and Iona took me to the Stockport train station and got my ticket sorted out and we said good-bye. I didn't have to wait long for the train and was soon onto phase 2 of this adventure.
Now I'll back up a bit. A lot has happened since my last epistle. Getting up early for the flight to Leeds was not an issue. I picked up my "bag breakfast" of a muffin, a banana and a cup of coffee in the hotel lobby and waited for the airport shuttle. I had booked on Aer Lingus because of the necessity of arriving back in Dublin in Terminal 1. So, from the shuttle I got off at Terminal 1, which was the stop after Terminal 2. Whatever. Then I checked the departures board looking for my gate. It was in Terminal 1. So, I got in half of my 10,000 steps schlepping back through the upward sloping passage that joins the terminals. Fortunately I'm travelling with a small carry-on suitcase on four wheels that roll beautifully. I had checked in online and had my boarding pass on my phone. No need to find the ticket counter. All I had to find was the gate.
Eventually, at the right gate, we were called for boarding. I thought it was for the plane - nope - it was for the bus that drives you to the plane. It seemed for a while that we were driving to Mullingar in the centre of Ireland. That is one big airport. Once at the plane - what? that little thing? - we boarded via a very narrow staircase at the back. And I found my even narrower seat in Row 2. The flight was smooth as silk and the landing was soft - all in all, much better than anticipated. The wild rain and wind of the day before had departed overnight.
At Leeds airport I boarded a train just outside the terminal, to the downtown rail station. There I bought my ticket and was soon en route to Manchester's Victoria Station. Waiting for me there were Danuta and David Burgess. I'd last seen Danuta almost 45 years ago, but conversation flowed as smoothly as if we'd been in frequent touch. We walked to Piccadilly Station where I checked my bag so walking around would be easier. The bag went through a security procedure that would make the TSA proud.
We lunched at a nice cafe where Dominic Burgess popped in briefly to say hello, and then we went to the Manchester Art Gallery. The exhibition we explored was a series of photographs taken in England over several decades, by photographers from other countries. It is interesting to see life through the eyes of a photographer - especially one who is capturing what he/she feels is the essence of a place that is not familiar.
From there we went to the public library - a building that reminds me of St Paul's with the huge dome. The interior has been completely modernized and the exterior maintains the original structure. All around it are examples of mainly Victorian architecture with a few modern buildings sprinkled around. All in all a lovely afternoon.
We used the tram system to return to Stockport where David reclaimed the car from the parking lot and we headed for their home. The tea and apple cake were a lovely treat and my tired feet were pleased to have a rest. I met Mrs Maj, Danuta's Mom, having heard of her over the years. She's a sweetie. After work Dominic and Iona came in and later the three of us enjoyed an Italian dinner at a nice restaurant that is walking distance from their new condo.
More exercise was worked into the day on the stairs leading to their second floor apartment. Here remember, you walk up one flight to the first floor. It had been a long but very satisfying day.
Saturday dawned clear and sunny and chilly. I borrowed a toque and mitts from Danuta. My recently purchased woolly scarf was put to good use. My own toque was in Dublin and my gloves were not very warm. The first impression on seeing a photo of Danuta and me that was taken later that morning, was of a couple of nuns. Yikes!
Quarry Bank cotton mill was on the agenda. What a great choice. My Sunderland ancestors worked in the woollen mills in Bradford in the 19th century and I hadn't ever heard of the cotton mills in the Manchester area. It was a short drive to the site which is managed by the National Trust. I can only compare that to Parks Canada, but this includes heritage buildings.
Timing is everything. The weather was nice, if frosty, but the gardens were closed. This didn't surprise me as it is February and no Canadian gardens would be open, but we were just a week too early. The home of the mill owners, the Gregs, was also closed until next week. The grounds were lovely for a peaceful stroll. Then we went into the mill.
Now that it is a heritage site, the machinery still mostly works, but not all at once. To think that these huge machines were invented and worked so efficiently over 100 years ago is amazing. The Gregs were quite generous employers compared to others, but the 15 hour days with a few minutes break for tea and lunch, must have been gruelling. With the machines all clattering away the din would have been deafening.
I was surprised to see that the lives of the women workers were featured and that the Greg family valued education - of women. There were examples of their everyday lives and believe me I would not volunteer to go back to those times. The Victorians gave us many things, but leisure for the working class was not one of them.
Having taken in what we could and having stopped for lunch in the cafe, we rested briefly. The cafe was full and we had a hard time finding a table. Danuta spied a family preparing to leave so she and I kind of hovered around as the parents got the two youngsters organized. They recommended the soup so we had the (mushroom) soup which came with a Granary Blossom. No - it was not any sort of flower. It was a large wedge of multigrain bread - very tasty.
Sufficiently restored, we then returned to Stockport to the market square. On the street front was a sign for Staircase House. Doesn't every two or more storey house have a staircase? This one did not disappoint. The staircase was the feature of note - mostly. This home was built in the 16th century with an interesting combination of wattle and daub, plaster, bricks and mortar and wood beams. It was heavily damaged by fire in the more recent past, but the city - in a great show of wisdom - decided to restore rather than ravage the building. The staircase was as badly burnt as the rest of the house but enough was untouched so that the restorers were able to discern the wood engravings on the banisters and whatever you call the parts between the handrail and the stairs. It is not ornate but considering that it is so very old, is quite remarkable.
It is not like visiting a house that you see from the street. You don't see it from the street. I guess the front didn't survive the fire. For one directionally challenged like myself, it was hard to get my bearings inside. To be realistic, getting your bearings in a house that seems to sprawl left and right is one thing. Getting your balance on floors that are not only sloped, but the stuff of skateboard tracks, is quite a challenge. Presumably all the heaving that cause the "uneven" flooring, happened over the past several hundred years, and was not part if the initial construction. I mean, this place has survived sort of intact and if the floors had started out the way they are now I doubt it would have made its first century.
The entire home was really amazing. It is furnished in some rooms, to represent different time periods in the life of the house. I would not have done well in any of those eras but I do have to admire those who did. It was fascinating to tour this place and I hope it becomes a major attraction.
We had supper at the Burgess home and I spent part of the evening chatting with Mrs. Maj. She has had a very interesting life even if there was a period of time that was very very difficult. She has written her story, in Polish, and is now waiting for her younger daughter to complete the translation into English.
This morning, Dominic and Iona took me to Elizabeth Gaskell's house in Stockport. She was a well known writer and had feminist views before her time. I will have to find some of her books - Cranford comes to mind and I think there was one titled North and South. The house had fallen into disrepair after the last inhabitants left. Restoration began in 2004 and has recreated the original carpets, mouldings, wallpapers and some furnishings. They are true to the period, but as all of the family possessions were auctioned after the death of the last daughter in 1913, were not the items that actually belonged to the Gaskell family.
Danuta cooked us an amazing dinner, topped off with a chocolate and pair pudding cake from the Nigella Lawson cookbook. The meal was a wonderful conclusion to a great weekend with people I now consider to be good friends. I hope we can get together - somewhere - before another 45 years elapses.
Dominic and Iona took me to the Stockport train station and got my ticket sorted out and we said good-bye. I didn't have to wait long for the train and was soon onto phase 2 of this adventure.
Thursday, February 2, 2017
Driving the Irish roads
I'm now settled in my quite lovely hotel room at Dublin Airport, and will shortly call it a day so that when the alarm wakes me at 4 am, I can answer the call and make my flight. Supper was a lovely bowl of pureed parsnip soup with rosemary seasoning accompanied by the compulsory brown bread on the side. It was more than enough and delicious.
Today was a real Irish winter day - rain either spotty or absolutely lashing down, with plenty of wind to complete the atmosphere. I was a bit afraid, as I set out from Moss Cottage, that the wind might be a factor on the road. However, I'm frankly more worried about how much wind there will be for the morning flight. Turns out - as I should have known - it's quite a small plane for the one hour jaunt. I'm no fan of turbulence.
As I motored up the motorway I started to think about how different it is from driving at home. Most of the time here I'm quite well below the posted speed limit. Stop snickering! Those of you who've driven with me at home know that this is a rare occurrence with me on Canadian roads. There, I use the speed limit as a general guideline to a minimum speed. Here - it depends.
I'll work down from the M roads, to the N, to the R and then the exciting Ls. M roads are the true motorways - two lanes or more in each direction with a maximum speed of 120 kph. They are wonderful and compared to Ontario's 400 series roads are in much better repair. Of course the amount of frost and resulting heaving just doesn't really happen in Ireland.
The main difference is that the scenery is spectacular no matter where you look. And soaring along at 120 you can't look too far or you pay the consequences. There really are 40 shades of green - on every hill. The fields are all separated by hedges or stone fences. Almost every where in Wicklow, Wexford and Carlow which is pretty much my territory, the hills beckon. I've had many views of Mt Leinster from different angles and wish I had a dash cam so that I could later enjoy it, other than as a glimpse out of the corner of my eye when traffic is light and the road is straight. Yes, some are straight for as long as a few hundred yards at a time. So, one glides along the motorways usually at a good clip. Slower drivers, and oh yes they exist, do seem to have the good manners to stay on the left.
Today with the bad weather, for some reason it drew the big trucks right out, hauling logs, other heavy equipment and the odd broken down vehicle on a trailer, when I wanted smooth sailing. They don't travel at max and they were all out today, fighting to stay ahead of me. Aha- a challenge. In fact, one tractor hauling a load ambled along in the left lane - where he belonged. In my opinion he should stick to N, R and L roads. Where the motorway widened to three lanes, the challenge was no more - everyone could find the pace they wanted and the tractor had found his exit already.
On most journeys, at least from the country, you encounter the N roads more often than Ms. There are excellent roads, but only two lanes and no median other than the white line. Occasionally there is a passing lane. Much of the time there is a decent paved shoulder. The speed limit on Ns is 100 kph and that is a safe speed. There are curves but you just don't pass then.
Last Saturday, once I got out of Carlow, I was in the N80 heading home. Getting out of Carlow is a book in itself. Anyway, roaring down the N80 took a while to accomplish. A late model Audi, or other similar high end car, was putzing along at 67 kph. He was exceptional at maintaining a constant speed. NOT the appropriate speed. However, my position following him, was soon the second of a long parade. As the smoke began to seep from under my collar, I was determined to find a safe place to pass. Eventually I roared past at 80, leaving him in the dust. Of course it wasn't long before I was testing the limit but actually once I hit 98 there was nobody in the rear view mirror, the pace was good and I could still take in the scenery.
The N80 runs through Bunclody so I'm well located for this type of road, with access to larger centres, and I'm grateful. More often than not though, from here it is R746. Ah the R roads - my personal favourites. The are quite narrow, winding, hilly and have a nice white line down the centre. There is room, mostly, for two cars to pass, one going each direction, without one having to stop or pull over close to the ditch, er hedge or exchange side mirrors on the go. The speed limit here is seldom reached when I'm at the wheel. It's 80 kph. I have roared around corners on the Rs at 60 and felt like I was in a Nascar race. I'm usually much more cautious. Driving at night is easier because, well frankly there are fewer cars, and you can see the lights coming and adjust accordingly.
Between Moss Cottage and Coolross is about 12 clicks. More than once, when driving home, I never encountered another car. Last night there was lots of traffic. In that distance, 9 cars came towards me and one followed the last two kms. I met all of them on curves or narrow bridges. The narrow stone bridge in Clonegal is not where you want this. Surprise!! Access to the bridge from Clonegal is uphill and around a curve and you can't see what's coming. There isn't really room for two cars along the entire bridge. Last night, we crossed paths where it was barely wide enough. I think my mirror feared for its safety but no contact was made.
Then you come to the L roads. As the letters go "up" the alphabet, the numbers accompanying them increase as well - EXCEPT FOR THE Ls. There are M 1 and 2 and M50, The Ns all seem to have 1 or 2 digits. The Rs have three, the Ls have 4 and I can't recall the letter that goes with the 5 digit roads. As the digits increase, the width of the road decreases. Any attempt to paint a centre line on an L road would cover the entire surface. There are some that, in my humble opinion, could be 6 or 7 digit roads. One of them leads the last bit of the way to the Byrnes at Coolross. On that road, my speed hardly registers. It's narrow, winding, has no shoulders and is rather bumpy in spots. Two cars can not pass except in the couple of spots that have been widened for the purpose. Fortunately I've yet to meet a car coming the other way. Whatever the limit on that road, rest assured I'm well below.
On the other had, quite often the more numbers that identify the road, the more beautiful the scenery. These are the roads less traveled - well, by me - and it's usually OK to stop and take a photo without another car coming along and needing its share of the pavement. Perhaps my fondness is because that's how the miracle of Burns finding Byrne happened. No room to pass. That's old news.
I'm quite happy sitting on the right and driving on the left - I like the left in other realms too. I don't know what my rental car will be next week. I've ordered a standard because they are much cheaper, but will probably see if I can get a good rate on an automatic. It is hilly and stopping on a hill is not a rare thing. I feel no desire to be the laughing stock of the area as I try to start on a hill.
Genealogy progress has been made of late, with help from Anne B and John O, and recently the Abrahams of Boley and Mungahullen have been peeking out of their hiding places. I'm hoping the Kehoes lose their shyness and start emerging as well. The Byrnes, well, they have been traced possibly as much as they can be but again, I like to think the family tree is still just half full.
So, the Ford Focus is back in the hands of Hertz and I'm going to be in the hands of Aer Lingus tomorrow. Not sure if there will be an opportunity to update you from Stockport. So, bye for now.
Today was a real Irish winter day - rain either spotty or absolutely lashing down, with plenty of wind to complete the atmosphere. I was a bit afraid, as I set out from Moss Cottage, that the wind might be a factor on the road. However, I'm frankly more worried about how much wind there will be for the morning flight. Turns out - as I should have known - it's quite a small plane for the one hour jaunt. I'm no fan of turbulence.
As I motored up the motorway I started to think about how different it is from driving at home. Most of the time here I'm quite well below the posted speed limit. Stop snickering! Those of you who've driven with me at home know that this is a rare occurrence with me on Canadian roads. There, I use the speed limit as a general guideline to a minimum speed. Here - it depends.
I'll work down from the M roads, to the N, to the R and then the exciting Ls. M roads are the true motorways - two lanes or more in each direction with a maximum speed of 120 kph. They are wonderful and compared to Ontario's 400 series roads are in much better repair. Of course the amount of frost and resulting heaving just doesn't really happen in Ireland.
The main difference is that the scenery is spectacular no matter where you look. And soaring along at 120 you can't look too far or you pay the consequences. There really are 40 shades of green - on every hill. The fields are all separated by hedges or stone fences. Almost every where in Wicklow, Wexford and Carlow which is pretty much my territory, the hills beckon. I've had many views of Mt Leinster from different angles and wish I had a dash cam so that I could later enjoy it, other than as a glimpse out of the corner of my eye when traffic is light and the road is straight. Yes, some are straight for as long as a few hundred yards at a time. So, one glides along the motorways usually at a good clip. Slower drivers, and oh yes they exist, do seem to have the good manners to stay on the left.
Today with the bad weather, for some reason it drew the big trucks right out, hauling logs, other heavy equipment and the odd broken down vehicle on a trailer, when I wanted smooth sailing. They don't travel at max and they were all out today, fighting to stay ahead of me. Aha- a challenge. In fact, one tractor hauling a load ambled along in the left lane - where he belonged. In my opinion he should stick to N, R and L roads. Where the motorway widened to three lanes, the challenge was no more - everyone could find the pace they wanted and the tractor had found his exit already.
On most journeys, at least from the country, you encounter the N roads more often than Ms. There are excellent roads, but only two lanes and no median other than the white line. Occasionally there is a passing lane. Much of the time there is a decent paved shoulder. The speed limit on Ns is 100 kph and that is a safe speed. There are curves but you just don't pass then.
Last Saturday, once I got out of Carlow, I was in the N80 heading home. Getting out of Carlow is a book in itself. Anyway, roaring down the N80 took a while to accomplish. A late model Audi, or other similar high end car, was putzing along at 67 kph. He was exceptional at maintaining a constant speed. NOT the appropriate speed. However, my position following him, was soon the second of a long parade. As the smoke began to seep from under my collar, I was determined to find a safe place to pass. Eventually I roared past at 80, leaving him in the dust. Of course it wasn't long before I was testing the limit but actually once I hit 98 there was nobody in the rear view mirror, the pace was good and I could still take in the scenery.
The N80 runs through Bunclody so I'm well located for this type of road, with access to larger centres, and I'm grateful. More often than not though, from here it is R746. Ah the R roads - my personal favourites. The are quite narrow, winding, hilly and have a nice white line down the centre. There is room, mostly, for two cars to pass, one going each direction, without one having to stop or pull over close to the ditch, er hedge or exchange side mirrors on the go. The speed limit here is seldom reached when I'm at the wheel. It's 80 kph. I have roared around corners on the Rs at 60 and felt like I was in a Nascar race. I'm usually much more cautious. Driving at night is easier because, well frankly there are fewer cars, and you can see the lights coming and adjust accordingly.
Between Moss Cottage and Coolross is about 12 clicks. More than once, when driving home, I never encountered another car. Last night there was lots of traffic. In that distance, 9 cars came towards me and one followed the last two kms. I met all of them on curves or narrow bridges. The narrow stone bridge in Clonegal is not where you want this. Surprise!! Access to the bridge from Clonegal is uphill and around a curve and you can't see what's coming. There isn't really room for two cars along the entire bridge. Last night, we crossed paths where it was barely wide enough. I think my mirror feared for its safety but no contact was made.
Then you come to the L roads. As the letters go "up" the alphabet, the numbers accompanying them increase as well - EXCEPT FOR THE Ls. There are M 1 and 2 and M50, The Ns all seem to have 1 or 2 digits. The Rs have three, the Ls have 4 and I can't recall the letter that goes with the 5 digit roads. As the digits increase, the width of the road decreases. Any attempt to paint a centre line on an L road would cover the entire surface. There are some that, in my humble opinion, could be 6 or 7 digit roads. One of them leads the last bit of the way to the Byrnes at Coolross. On that road, my speed hardly registers. It's narrow, winding, has no shoulders and is rather bumpy in spots. Two cars can not pass except in the couple of spots that have been widened for the purpose. Fortunately I've yet to meet a car coming the other way. Whatever the limit on that road, rest assured I'm well below.
On the other had, quite often the more numbers that identify the road, the more beautiful the scenery. These are the roads less traveled - well, by me - and it's usually OK to stop and take a photo without another car coming along and needing its share of the pavement. Perhaps my fondness is because that's how the miracle of Burns finding Byrne happened. No room to pass. That's old news.
I'm quite happy sitting on the right and driving on the left - I like the left in other realms too. I don't know what my rental car will be next week. I've ordered a standard because they are much cheaper, but will probably see if I can get a good rate on an automatic. It is hilly and stopping on a hill is not a rare thing. I feel no desire to be the laughing stock of the area as I try to start on a hill.
Genealogy progress has been made of late, with help from Anne B and John O, and recently the Abrahams of Boley and Mungahullen have been peeking out of their hiding places. I'm hoping the Kehoes lose their shyness and start emerging as well. The Byrnes, well, they have been traced possibly as much as they can be but again, I like to think the family tree is still just half full.
So, the Ford Focus is back in the hands of Hertz and I'm going to be in the hands of Aer Lingus tomorrow. Not sure if there will be an opportunity to update you from Stockport. So, bye for now.
Wednesday, February 1, 2017
Connected - nope - yep - nope again - arrggghhh
Hello readers, this missive is emanating from the Bunclody Library. Internet service at the cottage is meagre, infrequent and unpredictable. That being said, not a lot has happened that is worth noting.
I have had a cold and it has blown up into a roaring sinus infection. This does not incline me to be socially active in any way. I declined a lunch invitation today to celebrate Kathy Doyle's 80th birthday. She was my bread making teacher - well still is, because we'll have to have another round one day. I was to join her sister and sisters-in-law for an outing but I'm not up to it, nor do I wish to share this with anyone, so I had to decline.
The weather has not been very nice and as a result there have been no walks in town or the nearby hills, or anywhere else. It has been cold and wet and although it seems to be warming up, there are no long dry spells coming. Ah the Irish winter.
Yesterday I had to go to Rathnew, Co Wicklow (look it up) for an allergy shot, so I met for lunch with John O'Neill who has done considerable research for me in the past. Of late he has sent along emails of information from past research, some of which is guiding me in my current searches. He did find evidence that our Byrnes may have been in the Coolross area for at least 100 years before we find Art renting a few acres at Coolross. That avenue will be explored next week in Sheffield when I interrupt my Irish stay for an English one. I've emailed the Sheffield Archives about which documents I'm anxious to look at and hopefully they will be awaiting my arrival.
I did not photograph my lunch of chicken and mushroom pie (large enough for two), along with the mashed potatoes (for four), turnips and greens (for two). This was a single order. I don't have a wide-angled lens to have taken it all in. It was tasty - as much as I could manage to eat - and was followed by a very good cup of coffee. I was well fortified for many hours afterwards.
Over lunch, John also suggested some sources for info on other family lines, and not to give up on the idea that perhaps some of them were either converted from Protestantism or possibly waffled back and forth depending on the current political circumstances. The lines in question are mainly in-laws so not a priority.
He also mentioned a nice little hotel near St Stephen's Green where I might book a room for a few nights to do some research. They seem to have specials if you stay 3 nights. The car rental situation is such that I can only rent for 28 days at a time. I surrender the current vehicle tomorrow evening before settling in at the Maldron Dublin Airport hotel before my very early flight to Leeds/Bradford. I will pick up the next one on the 9th, the morning following my return. Perhaps I'll schedule a few days in Dublin starting March 9 and then pick up what should be the third and final rental vehicle for the rest of my stay.
After lunch with John at the Burnaby Pub in Greystones, I went to Rathnew for the allergy shot. The plan had been to drop in to Ashford to say hello to Mary and Oliver en route home. However, by that time I was feeling so rotten I headed back to Bunclody after a quick apologetic phone call. By the time I got to the town, my first stop was a pharmacy for some nasal spray. As it turns out, that was just something to spray up my nose before deciding it really was time to start the antibiotics that I'd brought along, just in case. Nasal decongestants for those who have high blood pressure are probably made of distilled water. This morning I cracked open that little bottle of pink pills and hope the miracle starts soon.
The internet cable that connects to the Gilsenans house, and ultimately to Moss Cottage, is in need of replacement. It should be done within 5 business days of last Saturday. They are not in a rush. I had a signal on Sunday and briefly yesterday morning, and for about 30 minutes off and on this morning. This is getting tedious. Today I finally hit the library - and this is a day they don't close for lunch. I found a spot under the heating duct so don't need the coat and gloves like last time.
There is a beautiful display of origami swans made by students of an adult school here. It is to signify multi-culturalism. I could suggest where it should be sent but the White House is no longer embracing beauty and pure motives, so I shall just post the photo to facebook.
Despite having a strong signal here, my own stamina is dropping rapidly so I shall sign off now. Maybe I can get in a bit more internet searching before fading completely. I've despatched a few emails for updates on previous queries but even those are not going out properly from gmail. The electronic fates are not in my favour of late.
A discovery that I've made is that plain white vinegar is not available in Ireland. In the stores where I've asked for it, I've been met with "well here's clear malt vinegar, that should be the same". NO! I miss my gallon jug which I use for virtually all cleaning, as I'm not currently indulging in chips. If chips were on the menu the malt vinegar would be great.
I shall write again from the hotel on Thursday night. Surely they will have dependable wifi. Not sure how much time I'll have to write the blog while in jolly old England. I have friends to visit and archives to explore and notes to update. But - I expect that if the B&B has a reliable signal I should be able to write at least one post.
Slan
I have had a cold and it has blown up into a roaring sinus infection. This does not incline me to be socially active in any way. I declined a lunch invitation today to celebrate Kathy Doyle's 80th birthday. She was my bread making teacher - well still is, because we'll have to have another round one day. I was to join her sister and sisters-in-law for an outing but I'm not up to it, nor do I wish to share this with anyone, so I had to decline.
The weather has not been very nice and as a result there have been no walks in town or the nearby hills, or anywhere else. It has been cold and wet and although it seems to be warming up, there are no long dry spells coming. Ah the Irish winter.
Yesterday I had to go to Rathnew, Co Wicklow (look it up) for an allergy shot, so I met for lunch with John O'Neill who has done considerable research for me in the past. Of late he has sent along emails of information from past research, some of which is guiding me in my current searches. He did find evidence that our Byrnes may have been in the Coolross area for at least 100 years before we find Art renting a few acres at Coolross. That avenue will be explored next week in Sheffield when I interrupt my Irish stay for an English one. I've emailed the Sheffield Archives about which documents I'm anxious to look at and hopefully they will be awaiting my arrival.
I did not photograph my lunch of chicken and mushroom pie (large enough for two), along with the mashed potatoes (for four), turnips and greens (for two). This was a single order. I don't have a wide-angled lens to have taken it all in. It was tasty - as much as I could manage to eat - and was followed by a very good cup of coffee. I was well fortified for many hours afterwards.
Over lunch, John also suggested some sources for info on other family lines, and not to give up on the idea that perhaps some of them were either converted from Protestantism or possibly waffled back and forth depending on the current political circumstances. The lines in question are mainly in-laws so not a priority.
He also mentioned a nice little hotel near St Stephen's Green where I might book a room for a few nights to do some research. They seem to have specials if you stay 3 nights. The car rental situation is such that I can only rent for 28 days at a time. I surrender the current vehicle tomorrow evening before settling in at the Maldron Dublin Airport hotel before my very early flight to Leeds/Bradford. I will pick up the next one on the 9th, the morning following my return. Perhaps I'll schedule a few days in Dublin starting March 9 and then pick up what should be the third and final rental vehicle for the rest of my stay.
After lunch with John at the Burnaby Pub in Greystones, I went to Rathnew for the allergy shot. The plan had been to drop in to Ashford to say hello to Mary and Oliver en route home. However, by that time I was feeling so rotten I headed back to Bunclody after a quick apologetic phone call. By the time I got to the town, my first stop was a pharmacy for some nasal spray. As it turns out, that was just something to spray up my nose before deciding it really was time to start the antibiotics that I'd brought along, just in case. Nasal decongestants for those who have high blood pressure are probably made of distilled water. This morning I cracked open that little bottle of pink pills and hope the miracle starts soon.
The internet cable that connects to the Gilsenans house, and ultimately to Moss Cottage, is in need of replacement. It should be done within 5 business days of last Saturday. They are not in a rush. I had a signal on Sunday and briefly yesterday morning, and for about 30 minutes off and on this morning. This is getting tedious. Today I finally hit the library - and this is a day they don't close for lunch. I found a spot under the heating duct so don't need the coat and gloves like last time.
There is a beautiful display of origami swans made by students of an adult school here. It is to signify multi-culturalism. I could suggest where it should be sent but the White House is no longer embracing beauty and pure motives, so I shall just post the photo to facebook.
Despite having a strong signal here, my own stamina is dropping rapidly so I shall sign off now. Maybe I can get in a bit more internet searching before fading completely. I've despatched a few emails for updates on previous queries but even those are not going out properly from gmail. The electronic fates are not in my favour of late.
A discovery that I've made is that plain white vinegar is not available in Ireland. In the stores where I've asked for it, I've been met with "well here's clear malt vinegar, that should be the same". NO! I miss my gallon jug which I use for virtually all cleaning, as I'm not currently indulging in chips. If chips were on the menu the malt vinegar would be great.
I shall write again from the hotel on Thursday night. Surely they will have dependable wifi. Not sure how much time I'll have to write the blog while in jolly old England. I have friends to visit and archives to explore and notes to update. But - I expect that if the B&B has a reliable signal I should be able to write at least one post.
Slan
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