Category Archives: Irish Heritage

The Poisoned Glen

30 Sunday May 2021

Posted by in Beautiful Donegal, For the live of dogs, Galavanting, Ireland, Irish Adventures, Irish Glens, Irish Heritage, Irish Scenes, Mountains in Ireland, My family and other furry creatures, new adventures, New Paths, The Iris Adventure

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As part of our visit to beautiful Dunlewey Church we went on the hunt for the famous Poisoned Glen, it didn’t disappoint.

The Poisoned Glen responding to the call of beautiful Dunlewey Lough

Now we all know that Ireland is full to overflowing with legends, and needless to say anywhere with a name like ‘The Poisoned Glen’ is going to have a legend attached, I suppose it is also inevitable that there are various accounts as to how it got it’s name.

Two involve the one eyed giant King Balor. The first version of the story is that Balor’s exiled grandson Lughaidh (do the best you can pronouncing that one, I am struggling with the guttural sounds of Gaelic!) met with his grandfather at the opening of the glen to fight, and duly killed him. As he fell Balor’s one eye bled into the glen, poisoning it as it did so. Legend has it that if you look at the mountains behind the bridge you can see the face of the fallen giant..

Look in the middle to the left, and you can see the outline of the giant’s face.

The other account is that Balor had a beautiful daughter who he kept locked away and hidden from mankind (of course he did, misogyny is rife in fairytales!) Despite all his efforts word got out about her beauty and she was duly kidnapped. Balor went after the kidnapper and cut him off at this very bridge killing him and retrieving his daughter. As the kidnapper died under the bridge the glen was forever poisoned.

Harley and RD studying the place of battle,

The less interesting truth is that the people of Dunlewy were inspired to name it An Gleann Neamhe (The Heavenly Glen), but when the English mapped the area they carelessly marked it as ‘An Gleann Neimhe – The Poisoned Glen! And so it’s name was born! As we know, we can always rely on the English!

This place has inspired many, it’s not hard to understand why, and Clannad, who hail from Donegal, included a track titled ‘Poisoned Glen’ on their album ‘Anam’.

For me the best thing was watching Harley pup in the healing waters of the glen, his adventure with them continues, and it is truly heavenly to behold.

I hope you’re all inspired to visit this beautiful place if you can..

Rosie

Dunlewy Church known as The Irish Taj Mahal

Magical Mystical Ireland: Abandoned Churches built from endearing love.

16 Sunday May 2021

Posted by in For the live of dogs, Galavanting, Ireland, Irish Adventures, Irish Heritage, Irish Scenes, Mountains in Ireland, new adventures, poignancy, The continuing adventure, The Iris Adventure

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A Perfect Picture With Welshie as an accessory!
Dunlewey Church

We have promised ourselves that this time we will visit places in Ireland. In France money was always so tight we didn’t visit as many places as we would have liked. This time it will be different, and I plan on sharing the fabulous places with you……

So a few weeks ago we kitted up the puppies, made up a little simple picnic of sandwiches and extremely fattening pork pie and Scotch eggs (we’re just about to calm that down now, all the lovely fattening stuff!) and some cokes as beverage, and off we went on a charabang outing in my new little car to Dunlewey Church, nestled at the foot of Mount Errigal.

Stunning Dunlewey Church in it’s remote setting

As you can see from these pictures this stunning, atmospheric place didn’t disappoint, with Dunlewy Lough in the background, and the mountains all around. Classic Ireland with the heather and the bracken, overcast skies and the sun breaking through. It is a truly breathtaking place.

The church was built in the 1800’s by Jane Russell in homage to her love for her late husband James. It is such an atmospheric beautiful place it is known as the Taj Mahal of Ireland.

Born in England the couple married in 1825, and James went on to make his fortune as a hop merchant. They had five daughters and moved to Donegal after purchasing the Dunlewey Estate. Sadly in 1848 James died, and the heartbroken Jane built this beautiful church as a place to lay her husband to rest. He is buried in the vault beneath the floor of the church. I can understand why, she chose such a beautiful spot, a place where he could look out at the lough, hear the Poisoned Glen and be protected by the beautiful Errigal.

The view through the Alter window, absolutely breathtaking
with Dunlewey Lough in the background

The estate was eventually managed by a new landlord, Richard Lewis Crankshaw and when he died in 1929 he was buried in the grounds of the church. But his widow, Nellie, was a Roman Catholic (no surprises there we are in Ireland!) and because the church was not a Catholic church she would not be buried with her husband. So she was buried in the Catholic church that was immediately across the lough from Dunlewey church. To ensure that she was still close with her husband her gravestone was turned towards the old Dunlewey Church, so that they could look across the lough to each other. It’s clear this beautiful place inspires romance just as the moors did for Cathy and Heathcliffe. In fact many couples choose to marry here, despite the weather, despite the lack of roof, because the sadness, and the happiness, and all in between can be felt in this place, like a vibration.

Sadly as more and more people emigrated from Ireland the church was no longer used and fell into disrepair, with the roof being removed in 1955, as a safety measure and the fixtures and fittings distributed to other churches, including the bell which is now in place at the Cashel Church of Ireland near Doe Castle. But in 1987 the local community restored the floor of the church and in 2005 restoration work was undertaken to ensure that this beautiful place was preserved, as it should be.

It was a fabulous day out, and we will be returning, we didn’t even get to walk around the lough, because we then found the Poisoned Glen…..

Rosie

Thanks Paddy I’m Back On The Road

11 Tuesday May 2021

Posted by in Belief, Ireland, Irish Adventures, Irish Heritage, new adventures, poignancy, The continuing adventure

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It’s sad I know but despite being 58 yrars old I bought this key ring months ago, for the key that would belong to the car I was going to buy one day.

But I held back. We were in the middle of nowhere, didn’t need two cars, and if I was honest I would have crapped myself driving out on the single track from our rented property. So I left the driving to RD, not because I can’t drive the van, but because I didn’t have the confidence to reverse it out of any spaces when I couldn’t see out of the back window. I know ladies I’ve let the side down, but it is what it is.

I was also considering the extra cost of a car when we didn’t really need one at that time. Car insurance in Ireland is expensive (and sorry to Irish readers but Jesus! I thought the French drive like madmen!) and I reasoned that why pay insurance when the car would not be Utilised. But before I knew it we were four months into this year, in our new house (albeit not owning it) and I realised that I had not driven for over seven months! It had to stop, I had to get mobile and embrace my new life. I needed my own car.

Now I was being tight, I want to settle into Ireland and we need to find work, so I didn’t want to spend a fortune on a car. In fact I wanted something that would just keep me mobile for the first year or so. A little run around, or a little ‘shitter’ as some would call it, and then I truly believe my dad stepped in….

The 28th of April is my late dad’s birthday. Paddy had ideas I believe about my car, I think he was looking down in me wondering what the feck I was doing (did you see I went a little bit Irish there) sitting on my arse letting RD do all the driving and slowly using my confidence, and independence. Me, the most confident and independent little bitch he had ever laid eyes on. It had to stop. So on his birthday up popped a little advert on Facebook for a Toyota Yaris, small car, two lady owners, at snip of just under six hundred euro, cheap insurance.

Something told me to enquire about this car, it had only been up for sale for two hours. I did, and that evening we drove down to Donegal Town to view it. Now here in lies the rub….When we arrived at the home of the man selling it there stood a little Irish man called Paddy. I took a double take as he looked just like my dad, with white hair and the full lower lip as denotes my family heritage. Not only that every time he was thinking about something or having a draw on his cigarette he would stick his bottom lip out, just like my dad.

We bought the car, and when he gave us our change he then handed me another ten euro back and told me to treat myself! it was so bizarre.

RD, and my little car. I love it.

I hadn’t said anything to RD about my thoughts on how alike the man looked to my dad, but when we got home and I jokingly remarked how my dad had sent the car to me, RD turned to me and said ‘I didn’t want to upset you but that man really looked like your dad, even the way he held and smoked his cigarette.’

It wasn’t just me then! Perhaps ….

Rosie

Our First Spring In Ireland

22 Monday Mar 2021

Posted by in Beautiful Donegal, France, Ireland, Irish Adventures, Irish Heritage, Irish Scenes, LIfe, Mountains in Ireland, new adventures, New Paths, Spirituality, The continuing adventure, The Iris Adventure, The seasons, The Wild Atlantic Way

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As I started to write this post the realisation came to me that I will actually see all the seasons in Ireland for the first time this year. It just seemed like a revelation, because we only visited in the summer when I was a child, therefore I never saw Ireland in any other guise.

I learned to really respect the seasons during my time in France. I wrote often of them, especially Spring and Autumn, with both seasons representing change: one welcomes life, one tries to teach us to understand death, and letting go. Life’s ever evolving pattern.

I am looking forward to what the seasons in Ireland will bring, having already experienced the Winter with it’s hooleys and snowy mountains! So many Irish people said how we needed to wrap up warm because of the cold winds, but we were used to them from living on our little house on the hill in Northern France for six years, the winter did not phase us, but the scenery blew us away…

Earrach …It is the first day of Spring today

Earrach means Spring in Gaelic, and there are three days considered to be the first day of Spring in Ireland, but in Ireland the one most consider the first day of Spring is the 1st of February. It’s known as Imbolc ( which means ‘in the belly’ referring to the pregnant ewes) in line with Gaelic tradition, and was a day to celebrate the end of a harsh winter and the coming of warmer weather, being the midway point between the Winter and Spring equinox, it was also the opportunity to rebuild stocks, and for milk to be available. It’s also known as St Brigid’s Day.

A Picture Depicting Brigid The Pagan Goddess

Now there are two schools of thought on this: Brigid was a pagan goddess whose pagan ceremony was held on the 1st of February, as she was also considered the patroness of early Spring. Then suddenly in medieval times, and quite fortuitously, a nun by the same name came along with all the same attributes of the goddess Brigid, how weird! And guess what? She was made a Saint, whose celebratory day was also the 1st of February. I don’t know, it seems to happen so often, how these Christian holidays and Saints day tie in with pagan ones. Must just be coincidence! Poor old pagan Goddess Brigid was elbowed out of the way and her day was given to a prioress who supposedly helped the poor. That’s not to diss St Brigid, she is now considered a patron saint of Ireland, and probably liked to have a good old knees up and a drink with St Patrick!

But that’s not the end of it, all is not lost the Irish still have a soft spot for Brigid the pagan goddess, and still make the pagan crosses to hang on their doors to welcome The goddess who would visit them on the first day of Spring.

The Pagan Cross of Brigid

Now, believing what you will, Spring in Ireland traditionally starts on the 1st of February for logical reasons: the days get longer, the weather starts to warm up (although when hail was sheeting down on us last week you wouldn’t have thought so!) and the flowers start to break through. In fact last week we watched in wonder, with tears in our eyes from laughter as the crofter tried to put two lambs in the field behind his house, he picked one up and carried it to the field, then he went back for the second as the first followed him back bleating it’s head off, bless him he must have done it at least five times until he got someone else to help him. If I can I am going to ask if I can see them, taking the chance that I may never eat lamb again if I do.

Over the last two weeks we have had hail, snow, rain (of course it’s Ireland!) and beautiful warm sunshine. They do say that March comes in like a lion and out like a lamb! With all this weather we have had some fabulous cloud phenomena over the mountains, it’s like seeing an ever changing painting, and we are loving it.

Mount Errigal with Levanter clouds around the bottom

There is nothing like warm Spring sunshine to give you hope, and despite all the madness in the world today nature goes on her way, doing what she needs to do, no lockdowns for her!

Spring Sunshine in Carrickfin Donegal

Moira (also known as Rosie)

Gaelic..I Think I’ve Always Been More Irish Than English

20 Saturday Mar 2021

Posted by in coming home, Irish Adventures, Irish Heritage, Learning and Evolving, LIfe, New Paths, poignancy, Reflections, The continuing adventure, The Iris Adventure

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In Donegal where we are putting down roots the Gaelic language is still the main language, although all those we have met have kindly spoken English to us. Most signs in our area are in Gaelic, and I plan to learn some as the years go on.

I believe it’s important to embrace the culture of where you live, even more so when it’s your heritage. It should help that I learned quite a bit of French because I notice how a lot of Gaelic words are very close to some French words. Although the French are mainly considered Gauls, many people in Brittany consider themselves Celts, and so the link continues.

I am lost on the pronunciation however, although I am getting my head around some of it involving dropping the syllables, for example Donegal … Dún na nGall, when you say it quickly it sounds the same but has a gutteral intonation.

My actual name is Moira, I use Rosie as a pseudonym because of my book, but at times it pisses me off that I lose my own identity due to that. Given that Moira is an Irish Gaelic name, derived from Celtic, I think it’s important now I live in Ireland to own it and embrace the Gaelic language.

Moira comes from the name Máire which means bitter, beloved, drop of the sea. How apt then that I have chosen to live in a place surrounded by the sea. It’s good to see that my name is right up there with Boudicca, it explains my strength, being able to fight my own corner and my hate of injustice since as long as I can remember.

I have always felt closer to my Irish roots than my English. I am proud of England for many things, mainly their stoic approach to the second world war; for whilst I am not someone who condones war I understand that from all wars that war was probably the one most necessary. Britain was up against it where that war was concerned, and they stood their ground, eventually convincing others of its need; but I think it’s important to also remember that WWI was a pre-cursor to it’s cause.

I don’t buy into the crap of ‘let’s make Britain great again’, or watching the 1966 World Cup Final over and over again. It was 55 years ago, lets move on FFS!

I have never felt a sense of English pride, not when I look back through our history and listened to my dad’s experience where Ireland was concerned. Sadly, including my time in France, there have been many times when I have been ashamed of my English heritage, including that sense of entitlement and grabbiness that I have found on my travels, perhaps that comes from all those times in our history that we have just ‘taken’ other’s countries! Then there is football hooliganism: Jack Charlton was so ashamed he gave up the Irish Football Managers job because of it. Or when I holidayed in Turkey and the other English guests ran down to put their Union Jack towels on their sun-beds, there was no other person from any other country (mostly from Germany) who did. Where did that myth about the germans putting their towels on the sunbeds come from? I know some people will read this and say ‘well other nations do that too!’ But I am half English, I’m not speaking for ‘other nations’.

Let us not forget all the times my relatives would call my dad the ‘thick Paddy’, when he was the cleverest of them all. So clever he never felt the need to put them straight, he knew he had the last laugh when he left them to drown in their own ignorance and ego.

Perhaps my Irish ancestry is coming through. I know that’s why I have been thinking about my dad more than ever and finally understanding him, more than ever. We learn and evolve, if we want to.

Where Gaelic is concerned some of the words are familiar to me and I understand them, it may be that my Irish DNA is coming through and my ancestors memories are finally starting to show themselves.

I do feel as if I am finally home.

Deireadh seachtaine maith a bheith agat

Moira