Our Ancestral Home on Rahardrum Lane, Virginia
"Kneel ain tin-tin mar duh yin-tin feign"- Roughly translated means there is no place like home.
Our ancestral home was and still is located on Rahardrum Lane in Virgina, Co Cavan. The house is of special significance for me not least because it is the place where I was born in 1942, it is also special because it holds mine and other members of my family,s very earliest memories of being domicile in Ireland. It also represents a physical reference point directly related to our family’s history. Our house was conveniently located about 10 minutes walking distance from the centre of Virginia. The house enjoyed an elevated position overlooking green fields and Lough Ramor and the hills of Munter Connaught could bee seen in the distance. Our home was one of 16 similar type of houses built on Rahardrum Lane around about the 1930s. The house was very well built by craftsmen and today it’s still in very good condition. The external walls are pebble dashed and painted in popular white masonry paint, an also noticeable feature of these houses is the conventional slate roofs.
The house today would be described as an attractive 3 bedroom, semi detached bungalow. We had the benefit of a small garden at the front along with a squeaking double iron gate a plum tree and rose bushes were planted in abundance which gave off a beautiful scent for most the spring and summer months of the year. Besides the small out-buildings and W.C at the rear there was a large garden of approximately half an acre in size which was great for us children to play in. The soil in the back garden was a dark loam and very fertile making it extremely good for the growing of a whole range of crops such as vegetables and fruit bushes, etc. I remember the excitement and curiosity we felt when one day we were digging in the back garden discovered a small underground stream. The spot where the stream was found was not too far away from a massive oak tree that we used to attempt to climb and which eventually got cut down to provide us with firewood during the extremely bad winter of 1947. Dad used to keep his horse and cart at the rear of the house and I still get a twinge in my shoulder when I think about the day his horse, I was only about four at the time, bit me on the shoulder and then having to be taken to the Doctors to make sure no serious damage had been done to me.
The house today would be described as an attractive 3 bedroom, semi detached bungalow. We had the benefit of a small garden at the front along with a squeaking double iron gate a plum tree and rose bushes were planted in abundance which gave off a beautiful scent for most the spring and summer months of the year. Besides the small out-buildings and W.C at the rear there was a large garden of approximately half an acre in size which was great for us children to play in. The soil in the back garden was a dark loam and very fertile making it extremely good for the growing of a whole range of crops such as vegetables and fruit bushes, etc. I remember the excitement and curiosity we felt when one day we were digging in the back garden discovered a small underground stream. The spot where the stream was found was not too far away from a massive oak tree that we used to attempt to climb and which eventually got cut down to provide us with firewood during the extremely bad winter of 1947. Dad used to keep his horse and cart at the rear of the house and I still get a twinge in my shoulder when I think about the day his horse, I was only about four at the time, bit me on the shoulder and then having to be taken to the Doctors to make sure no serious damage had been done to me.
Internally, the house consisted of one main living / dining room, two small bedrooms and one large bedroom and at the rear there was a small scullery / kitchen. The ceiling in the living room was covered in pine boarding and the floors consisted of stone flags, although cold to walk on they were in many ways ideal because they were a natural hard wearing material, fireproof, and easy to keep clean. The only means of heating and cooking was by an open turf fire in the centre of the living room. Furniture was rustic and sparse the best item being a pine dresser which proudly held on display assorted blue willow pattern delph and number of other family artefacts. Sitting on this dresser was a brass paraffin lamp, complete with two wicks, glass globe and a hardwood base. As there was no gas or electricity available at this time the lamp provided our only means of light in the evenings. There was hung on one of the walls a Sacred Heart picture and full team, photographs of passed County Cavan Gaelic football teams.
In those auld days, warmth was a precious thing to have. The fuel used for fires was mainly turf; thankfully, due to the many bogs in Ireland it was plentiful, and readily available, for those who could afford it. We like many other families suffered deprivations, but two things we rarely went without were good plain Irish food and we managed most of the time to have a good turf fire on the go, especially during the long cold winter evenings. As we used to say “a fire good enough to warm the cockles of your heart” or you arse, which incidentally was a common practice of some of the less inhibited women in those days. But bedsides the many pleasant memories I have one of the worse things I remember especially in the winter was having to leave the fire to go to bed, it was an ordeal. The bedroom we slept, in the winter, was like a fridge, ice used to form on the inside of the windows. I remember to survive through the night, having to sleep with a heavy woollen pullover on and a pair of trousers to help stop me catching hypothermia during the night. Once in the bed we used to get under the blankets which were toped with overcoats and by breathing rapidly we would form a pocket of warm air around ourselves, and in addition to the pullover and trouser I used to sleep with my socks on to stop getting frost bite if I had to step out of bed onto the ice cold stone floor.
Other precious fond memories I have of living in the house in Virginia all those year ago are of watching Mam cooking the day's food in the large cast-iron pots called skillets that hung on what was called an iron crane over the fire. The skill she showed using this primitive device for cooking tasty meals on just an open fire for a large family was extraordinary. She used to bake wonderful tasty fruit soda bread in an iron pot called 'bastible’ with a lid. These were iron pots were about five inches deep and 14 inches in diameter. We as children used to love this freshly cooked bread and it would be consumed it in no time together with mugs of hot sweet tea. The bastibles often had a handle so that they could be suspended from the crane over the flames. Red hot turf was placed on top of the lid so that the soda bread cooked evenly right through. Potatoes, bacon and cabbage and other root vegetables were boiled in bigger pots called 'skillets'. These skillets or cast iron pots are now only seen as domestic implements of the past and are used mainly for the growing patio plants.
As a young child, living in the house in Virginia, there was nothing I loved more than sitting near the lovely blazing turf fire on a winter’s night, with the wind howling outside, listening to Mam, telling her stories. Mam was a great story teller we would sit there fascinated by the stories she told. As I listened to the many stories she told about various people and events that happened in the Town. The ghost stories she told would always go down well because of Mams ability re-enact and exaggerate what the ghost did and her ability put on staring eyes and facial distortions and the voice of a demon that would have won her Oscar. She always managed to scare the shit out of us. Before all of the stories were told I would start to drift off due to the combination of the heat of the fire and a wonderful sense of deep inner contentment and peace the likes of which I have never been able to experience in my life ever since then.
My recollections and memories of day – day life in living in the house on Rahardrum Lane are generally very happy ones. We were encouraged and allowed to play to our hearts content both inside and outside the house. In those days there were no such things as radio, television, computers or mobile phones, but we still managed to have lot of fun, we had to be creative and devise our own ways of entertaining ourselves. After we had eaten and done any chores that were given to us we would be free to play outside in the fresh air, weather permitting. Besides just running around making a lot of noise Some of the things we got up to were climbing trees, digging holes and making traps to catch wild birds which were always released unharmed. Exploring in and round the out buildings, back garden and hedgerows, building dens, playing bat and ball games.
It can seen from this description that the house we lived in Ireland the modest home we lived in provided us with a good standard of accommodation although basic when compared to the standards normally found now in the modern homes of today, but I am glad to record and remember our home in Virginia was a happy place to be. Its where we as family spent our very early important formative years. It held warmth, security and provided a place of refuge against the elements, it was where we as a family lived, played, laughed, loved, cried, ate and slept, and due to the crowded situation that we lived in we learned the meaning of tolerance, sharing and the importance of contributing to the daily cycle of events that are part of the on-going day-to-day activity of a happy and stable home.
In those auld days, warmth was a precious thing to have. The fuel used for fires was mainly turf; thankfully, due to the many bogs in Ireland it was plentiful, and readily available, for those who could afford it. We like many other families suffered deprivations, but two things we rarely went without were good plain Irish food and we managed most of the time to have a good turf fire on the go, especially during the long cold winter evenings. As we used to say “a fire good enough to warm the cockles of your heart” or you arse, which incidentally was a common practice of some of the less inhibited women in those days. But bedsides the many pleasant memories I have one of the worse things I remember especially in the winter was having to leave the fire to go to bed, it was an ordeal. The bedroom we slept, in the winter, was like a fridge, ice used to form on the inside of the windows. I remember to survive through the night, having to sleep with a heavy woollen pullover on and a pair of trousers to help stop me catching hypothermia during the night. Once in the bed we used to get under the blankets which were toped with overcoats and by breathing rapidly we would form a pocket of warm air around ourselves, and in addition to the pullover and trouser I used to sleep with my socks on to stop getting frost bite if I had to step out of bed onto the ice cold stone floor.
Other precious fond memories I have of living in the house in Virginia all those year ago are of watching Mam cooking the day's food in the large cast-iron pots called skillets that hung on what was called an iron crane over the fire. The skill she showed using this primitive device for cooking tasty meals on just an open fire for a large family was extraordinary. She used to bake wonderful tasty fruit soda bread in an iron pot called 'bastible’ with a lid. These were iron pots were about five inches deep and 14 inches in diameter. We as children used to love this freshly cooked bread and it would be consumed it in no time together with mugs of hot sweet tea. The bastibles often had a handle so that they could be suspended from the crane over the flames. Red hot turf was placed on top of the lid so that the soda bread cooked evenly right through. Potatoes, bacon and cabbage and other root vegetables were boiled in bigger pots called 'skillets'. These skillets or cast iron pots are now only seen as domestic implements of the past and are used mainly for the growing patio plants.
As a young child, living in the house in Virginia, there was nothing I loved more than sitting near the lovely blazing turf fire on a winter’s night, with the wind howling outside, listening to Mam, telling her stories. Mam was a great story teller we would sit there fascinated by the stories she told. As I listened to the many stories she told about various people and events that happened in the Town. The ghost stories she told would always go down well because of Mams ability re-enact and exaggerate what the ghost did and her ability put on staring eyes and facial distortions and the voice of a demon that would have won her Oscar. She always managed to scare the shit out of us. Before all of the stories were told I would start to drift off due to the combination of the heat of the fire and a wonderful sense of deep inner contentment and peace the likes of which I have never been able to experience in my life ever since then.
My recollections and memories of day – day life in living in the house on Rahardrum Lane are generally very happy ones. We were encouraged and allowed to play to our hearts content both inside and outside the house. In those days there were no such things as radio, television, computers or mobile phones, but we still managed to have lot of fun, we had to be creative and devise our own ways of entertaining ourselves. After we had eaten and done any chores that were given to us we would be free to play outside in the fresh air, weather permitting. Besides just running around making a lot of noise Some of the things we got up to were climbing trees, digging holes and making traps to catch wild birds which were always released unharmed. Exploring in and round the out buildings, back garden and hedgerows, building dens, playing bat and ball games.
It can seen from this description that the house we lived in Ireland the modest home we lived in provided us with a good standard of accommodation although basic when compared to the standards normally found now in the modern homes of today, but I am glad to record and remember our home in Virginia was a happy place to be. Its where we as family spent our very early important formative years. It held warmth, security and provided a place of refuge against the elements, it was where we as a family lived, played, laughed, loved, cried, ate and slept, and due to the crowded situation that we lived in we learned the meaning of tolerance, sharing and the importance of contributing to the daily cycle of events that are part of the on-going day-to-day activity of a happy and stable home.