Snapshots

Powerscourt Gardens, Co. Wicklow


The beaches of Co. Donegal


A lovely bridge somewhere in Co. Donegal

The House That Mr. Darcy Built

Joni Mitchell definitely knew what she was talking about when she said, "they paved paradise and put up a parking lot." It seems the people in the town of Longford have done just this to the glorious Carrig Glas Manor.

I was told about a house in the middle of Ireland (more north than south) that was built by Thomas Lefroy in 1837. Mr Lefroy, it seems, was once an aquaintance of the one-and-only Jane Austen. Some speculate that it was Mr. Lefroy who inspired the character Mr. Darcy in Pride and Prejudice. Could such a man as Mr. Darcy really have existed? My curiousity was too much to ignore so I decided to head down to Longford last Saturday. My guide book promised that tours were given from 11am to 5pm and that there would indeed be a gift shop. The book also said that the house was still owned by the Lefroy family and that the house was a gothic revival style manor. I set off with visions of one grand grey house in mind.

After driving for three hours on badly marked roads through blink-and-you'll-miss-'em towns like Butler's Bridge and Bellananagh, I arrived at a massive stone wall just outside of Longford.

(Exhibit A: the stone wall)


There were numerous construction signs and estate agency photos promising luxurious condos posted along the crumbling stone wall. This wall went on forever. Mr. Lefroy was definitely a man of impressive wealth...much like a certain literary character, but moving on...

I drove around this wall twice (still raining). To give you an idea of how big this wall is, I spent 20 minutes driving around the property...once. There was no way to enter. What was with all of this construction? Surely this is the right place. Giant old stone wall. Road signs a few miles back with "Carrigglas Manor." New condos called Carrig Glas Dreams or whatever. Where was my house?

Folks, I am sad to say this impressive, gorgeous house is being turned into a 19 room hotel. Here's a website with more details (if you can stomach anymore details about the changes this place is undergoing) http://www.carrigglas.ie/carrig-glas-manor-house.php

And just to be sure that I was in fact at the right giant old stone wall I called the info number on the website. The estate agent confirmed that the grounds would one day include a large hotel, a golf course, gulp - shops and pubs - and just to put the dagger in my heart, the manor would be a small hotel. Then he asked if I would like to book an event there.

Oh Mr. Darcy. What a depressing ending to such a promising beginning.

(Exhibit B: the closed gates)

For Peat's Sake

This post is a thank you of sorts to Karen who put up with my fascination with peat during our drive thru Donegal. What's peat, you ask?

Long story short, it is dirt that people burn. Once upon a time peat lived in a bog. After many, many years of sitting in the marshy bog, the peat became a member of the fossil family. At some point in peat's quiet existence an Irish man or woman in search of heat decided it would be a good idea to dig up peat, stack him in tee-pee shaped piles to dry and then lovingly place him in the fireplace. Peat turned out to be a good fire starter as there wasn't much wood around and he didn't smoke up the house. Plus he let off this distinct smell that all of the villagers could enjoy each time he was burned. As one would imagine, peat smells very earthy, woodsy and subtle all at the same time.

Some folks don't think about peat so much. I, on the other hand, think the concept is fantastic. Whoever thought of burning dirt? And how sad that people still burn this irreplaceable stuff in the day of central heating? The bogs are torn up in search of peat and left cracked and gouged for all to see the dark earth below the bland bog. In a way peat is a direct link to days gone by. Now, now, I'm getting romantic about burning dirt. Something's definitely amiss.

Here lies peat:

Neighborhood Watch

Oh I have been so slack about blogging these past few weeks and I do promise to make it up to this lil' column with pictures and interesting facts about B'fast. For now, though, I have a hilarious short tale of life in West Belfast. My tale needs a little background info first.

During the times of the Troubles many residents in West Belfast (around the Falls Road area, in particular) formed a sort of neighborhood watch or self-policing groups. Because many of the Catholics in this area did not trust (or some say could not trust) the police in Northern Ireland, these groups were called in to settle disputes between neighbors and such. OK. Fast forward to last month. At the volunteer house, we received a letter from an address on the Falls Road. The seal for the group was in Gaelic so I hadn't a clue what it was all about. The letter said there had been an "incident" concerning our house that needed to be dealt with straight away. The letter looked like a joke, honestly, and just sat in the house until it was thrown in the bin. Two days ago, another letter arrived about this same "incident." Good heavens. Had one of the housemates gotten into a row with a neighbor? Did someone complain about our uncut grass? I brought the letter to work and someone phoned about this "incident."

Turns out one of my housemates (who will remain nameless in this space) has been showering and then drying themselves in front of their open bedroom window. I can't even begin to express how utterly hilarious this scene of events is. I wish I could have heard the call go into this neighborhood organization about the "incident." I can hardly keep a straight face when I think about it now. Especially when I thought about the tone of the letter and the constant reference to the "incident."

Kind of gives new meaning to the idea of a neighborhood watch.