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Published: September 30th 2011
Days 7 – 8: Irish Genealogy and History Crash Course
It is hard to get out early in the mornings at Lawcus Farm. Anne-Marie presides over cooking, serving, and socializing with help and story telling from her husband Mark. Rob, their hired jack of all trades, comes in from work and adds to the conversation while he has his morning tea. An occasional cat or dog manages to sneak their way in and Mark brings out the baby hedgehogs that he is fostering until the tiny puffs of quills, fluffy heads and greedy mouths can go back out and survive in the wild. We begin this morning with a wonderful breakfast of Irish oatmeal, soda bread, poached eggs, and bacon—oh, and fruit , and tea, and homemade marmalade. It is warm and cozy in the sun room/ breakfast room, but outside the wind is howling and drives the rain nearly through our clothes.- all six layers of them. Of course John is in shorts and the word “mad” is tossed about very often. It is hard to blend in to the local population when accompanied by a man of six feet and three inches dressed in shorts
whilst in the middle of a hurricane gale.
Before we leave Lawcus Farm for the day, we go on a tour of the family home that Mark is building up above the Guesthouse. It is beautifully created of stone with wooden arches and windows everywhere to let light into the spacious rooms. We would love to spend even more time here at the farm but now it is time to travel back into more Irish history. Today is Tuesday and we set out to learn the stories of Irish History.
We start off the day with two short trips to local sites. We start at the Round Tower and Famine Grave Yard. First we have to climb the stile and sally forth into the field that bears a warning about a bull in the field. That kind of sign can either slow down one's purpose or accelerate one's jogging speed. Lucky for us today, neither is required. It is haunting here in the abandoned, tragic, and beautiful graveyard of the victims of the Great Famine. We explore and return to our car in a somber mood to drive on to the priory.
It is raining now in earnest and we pay a quick and drenched visit.
On we go to the very famous and revered Rock of Cashel. If it can be believed, it is blowing harder here—I am quite literally being blown about by wind gusts and have to brace my feet against burial markers to be able to take photos of the ancient fortress and cathedral. There is little protection from the elements inside the structures as most of the roof is missing. I had looked forward to this visit with great enthusiasm to view the Chapel of Cormac with its blend of pagan and early Christian art. Sadly for me, the chapel is closed for renovation. At least I am glad to hear that the Irish government did not take down the scaffolding when Queen Elizabeth visited. I guess if they don't accommodate for the queen, there is little chance for me to get a private viewing. After being battered, drenched, and blown to bits by the elements, we head down the hill-- a very, very steep one I shall add—to the Bru Boru Cultural Museum. John is getting quite an intensive program in Irish
history and insight to the original leader of his family clan, Brian Boru. The Borus became the O’Briens and were the founders of the Kennedy clan. A family feud seems to have split the two groups, requiring a name change and a change of location. We spend quite a while here with the lovely open exhibits and then we must press on. The drive is made easier now that the sun has come out.
We drive on to Cahir for a visit to Cahir Castle. We are hustled into a tour just underway and we are so glad we got there just in time. The tour guide, Anne Kennedy by name, is a fount of information about the defense of castles. I now know more about murder holes, machicolations, arrow and gun loops, the machination of portcullis, stumble steps, the direction of the twists of spiral staircases and their impact on swordsmen, and how to build ankle breaking ditches than I ever thought I wanted to know. Just ask me: I never knew I would find this so fascinating.
The clocks in town strike five and it is time to find a
pint of Guinness and dinner. We confidently travel to Murphy's Bar per Anne-Marie's recommendation—except it is McCarthy's Bar and it doesn't serve dinner on Monday or Tuesday. The good news is that the very chatty young bar keep pours a near perfect Guinness. The bad news is that he gives very poor directions to a mediocre restaurant almost back to where we started our day and now we are totally knackered. John set the SAT-NAV earlier, but we must have chosen the wrong entry because, exhausted, we find ourselves in front of the same WRONG Lawcus Farm that we discovered on Sunday. Back tracking we go, but now we have guide posts from our previous trip lost and trying to find Lawcus Farm the first time. Practice and patience is our motto.
Funny how a place you have lived in for just a handful of hours can feel so much like home. When we reach the REAL Lawcus Farm it is as if we have lived there for months. Good to be home for a hot shower, a warm room, and a bed with heavy, warm comforters, watching the wind beat the trees above us through
Rock of Cashel Museum
If you ever have wondered how a brooch could hold together a flowing cape, here is your answer. Brooches were huge!the sky light.
Good night from County Kilkenny in the south of Ireland.
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Bruce
non-member comment
Keep the pictures and story line flowing
Someone talked about the worst summer in years? All your photos show blue sky? Guess you didn't take pictures when it was raining? I want the guest house.