Stardate: 16 May 2019 - On Saturday, let's do it for Bob

Exploring much closer to our home base today, starting with a village walk.

Beautiful Lough Derg

We were actually looking for the two holy wells we mentioned earlier in the week but our first trek took us 500 kilometres in the wrong direction.  Never mind, the countryside was beautiful and was rather as you would expect it to be in nursery rhymes - think Little Bo Peep or Baa Baa Black Sheep. 

We also had the first of three encounters with Gucci the rescue Golden Retriever.

This is our local swimming hole - Lough Derg.  The River Shannon runs into it.

The "I've got a splitting headache" Well

Retracing our steps, and only a matter of metres from our original starting point, we finally found our first well - St Columb's Headache Well. The well itself has been a shrine of sorts for over a thousand years but the semi-circle fencing is relatively new I think.  We have deliberately not included the tree foliage in this pic, as like St Brendan's tree yesterday, it's covered in offerings, not all of which are holy.  There were actually a couple of used baby wipes hanging from a branch.
The well is supposed to cure headaches - we will never know as neither of us had one at the time. 


Quite fortuitously, Geoff's phone rang as we were sitting at St Columb's well.  It was an unexpected but very welcome Facetime call from Geoff's son Matt, his partner Clare and their two littlies, Isla and Ruby.  I say 'fortuitously' because on any other day at that exact time we would have been careering along goat tracks and narrow lanes on our way to the day's ancient monument and so the call (assuming there was actually a signal) would have been very short indeed.  A most welcome diversion!

This is the stream that feeds the headache well - we could hear lots of frogs. The area is also a bird sanctuary.

The pic below is St Augh's Eye Well. St Augh was a pious, 9th century youth who was ordered to blind himself by a Danish chieftain but allegedly had his sight restored at this very well (before it had the 20th century masonry).  Pilgrims with eye ailments perform a series of rituals at the well that include sprinkling the water in their eyes in the hope of a cure.  We thought the water looked a bit dodgy and may    well cause conjunctivitis.         

St Augh's Stye Well

                           
We then wandered back to the village and entered the Derg Inn for a cup of tea and a scone.  It was here that we checked our Twitter feeds and learned that Bob Hawke had died. We both got teary.  What a visionary. And what a huge loss to Australia.  Vale Hawkie. 

Mr Pants will be with you shortly with news of our excursion to the Portumna Workhouse, a very grim 19th century home for the impoverished, especially those affected by "The Great Hunger" which should never be called a famine because that implies there was no food.  There was definitely food.  But what didn't go to the rich mostly went to England.

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You couldn't call a tour of the Workhouse uplifting, but it's not meant to be.

It was opened in the 1840s.  What happened is that rapacious and heartless landowners were responsible for the upkeep of impoverished tenant farmers and their families.  To rid themselves of this unwanted burden, workhouses were established where the poor could be admitted, and 'looked after' in a rudimentary fashion. 

The workhouse idea originated in England, but was taken up with enthusiasm in Ireland, despite differing conditions at the time.  The Industrial revolution was a great influence there, providing employment, but never happened in Ireland at all.

Individuals could be admitted to the Workhouse, but in many cases whole families were accommodated.  Once inside, they were split up.  There were strictly segregated wings for men, women, boys and girls.  Children under two got to stay with their mothers until reaching that age.

This is a sleeping area in the women's wing.  Way down the end you might see a small fireplace.  This was the only source of heat, and was used only 3 months a year.

The Workhouse wan't a prison.  You could leave if you wanted, but conditions outside, particularly during the Great Hunger, were even worse. 












Although we didn't expect a guided tour, we got one anyway, and because of the time we arrived, our tour group was just us.  Once our guide realised we were Australian, she made the point that many former Workhouse inmates migrated to Australia, particularly women, some of whom were sponsored under the 'Earl Grey' scheme.  Yeah, the tea bloke.

This was an area where badly behaved girls  were sent to sleep as punishment.  It's outside, and right next to the communal dunnies. 

Bad behaviour could mean talking during meals or not being diligent enough with designated work, bearing in mind the girls' wing was for those aged from three to 15.








The Portumna Workhouse closed in 1921.  A grim experience, to say the least.  No wonder the Irish love a drink; who wouldn't?  Fortunately for them, the standard of living for the contemporary Irish is quite high.  Considering their history, they deserve a break.

Hortense again:  More cheerily, later this arvo our host Keiran came over  for a yarn and took us on a guided tour of the estate, which is enormous (100 acres).  Much of it was completely overgrown when he and Jenny moved in as caretakers and they have done a sterling job in restoring it to its former glory.  Keiran seems to spend all day on the ride-on mower!  There's a fairy ring on the estate which we may get a chance to explore. Keiran thinks it's a neolithic burial mound.  Woo hoo - just my cup of tea. 

Till tomorrow.  xx