I have blogged previously as to the attraction and admiration of the Blacksmith and his forge – and not just once or twice. It does bring a smile every time I see a maker or foundry name marked into a iron railings; road gulley; manhole cover; bridges; or, as in this instance, a gate. This gate was on my way to secondary school and I have walked past in the decades since but it was only recently that I spotted that the name of MacFarlane Castings David Mitchell on twitter educates that Walter MacFarlane, born in 1818, created what became ‘the largest architectural ironfounding firm of its kind in the world’ – you could do worse than spend a few minutes scrolling there Planning permission was recently granted for adaption of the building. The applicant and the architect do give home that I will be seeing MacFarlane Castings for some time |
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Unlike St Patrick’s Hill, this one is still in-situ A few weeks back, spotted a benchmark on top of the key wall at Camden Quay. I have walked this way more than once or twice but only noticed it a few weeks ago. Hidden in plain sight
The above photographs were taken at the bottom of St Patrick’s Hill on the 24th May. When I saw the eastern side of the hill barricaded off, I did fear for the fate of the benchmark. Benchmarks as a useful piece of data have long been replaced by GPS. As a mark on the fabric of the city recording how things were done in the past, they are a mark of history. I particularly liked this one as it was in the kerb on St. Patrick’s Hill. I have seen many on stone pillars, less in brickwork – on a kerb is very rare. The photographs below were taken just 5 days later, on 29th May. The kerbs had all been removed. They have not returned since. When demolition of the existing warehouse was being carried out in advance of the construction of 1, Albert Quay, I did ask as to whether the old fire cock sign might be available. I was told that it was being retained and was to be re-applied to the new building. It is now on the new building, complete with a new colour scheme. It is as functional as a benchmark but its heritage value was appreciated by someone with decision making powers - thankfully Last Sunday, once again, I received the lesson that one is very unlikely to record all of a particular thing – there always is the rick that one exists somewhere I just have not been before. This time is was the E.S.B. Lightning logo.
Castle Avenue in Monkstown was the road not travelled before. And there it was. It has prompted me to put a webpage together of those that I have encountered and recorded - HERE Our conversational Irish walk was a bit puzzled yesterday. Our monthly siúlóid took us through Monkstown Demense. As we we exiting the estate before heading back down Glen Road to the village, we tried, and failed to figure out the meaning of the words carved into the archways on either side of the road. LÁMH FOIS TENACHABÚThe archways facing the road read Monkstown Demense so it was not a translation. Lámh Fois Tenachabú had us stumped – not too difficult for my level of Gaeilge but it had all of us beaten. Jerry did think it may have something to do with the motto for the estate – top marks. Learning can be difficult enough – even relearning. But it definitely does not helped when the mason or letter carver sets out not to make things easy. The number of stones in the arch mean that these two options would have been equally easy to cut:
The latter option may well have been read as Lámh Foistenach Abú which translates as The Steady Hand To Victory. If there was an O’Sullivan among the group, we may have had greater success in interpreting as it is the motto of the O’Sullivan’s. LÁMH FOISTENACH ABÚWritten In Stone ≠ Forever Last Sunday, a trip to west Clare, brought me face to face with a phenomenon new to me. In the Church of Ireland cemetery in Kilrush, many of the headstones appear to be of local Liscannor stone, a lovely, dark and grooved stone. I am familiar with its use for hearths and paving. My graveyard rambles have not extended often to County Clare so I cannot recall seeing many headstones using this stone. Its proximity and availability most probably accounts for the number encountered last Sunday. The main purpose of my visit was to view the Famine Memorial and shortly after, I stopped. Initially it looked like pieces of stone were dumped on top of a flat headstone. More investigation suggested that a layer of the stone had delaminated. In doing so, the thin layer had broken into many pieces. I really enjoyed Jean Sprackland’s book a few years ago. My copy has many hand-written notes – marginalia of sorts, being located in the blank end pages. One of these notes refer to the quoted piece which seriously impacted when I read it. Jigsaws were me growing up. They allowed escape from participation and conversation. I would so love the time and permission to assemble the stones – to ensure that the headstone is read, even for just one more time.
It is a long time since I even thought of the headwear of the Catholic clergy. I do recall the Canon in the local parish church regularly wearing a hat that the other priests did not wear – a black Biretta if memory has not faded too much. The Eucharistic Procession would also show that the bishop wore a mitre. What I did not realise until a couple of weeks ago is that there were/are quite a number of different types – and I did not see real hats, paintings or photographs to realise this, just picture frames. I was deliberately early for a meeting which allowed me to stop in Maynooth and look for the Seamus Murphy statue of St Patrick. The directions I received were spot on and there he was inside the main door of the enclosed quad – once again a piece calling out to be touched. It was only when I had touched and photographed St Patrick did I realise the paintings along the corridor. Then I spotted the hats incorporated into the top of the frame. And then, that not all of the hats were the same. The corridor gallery brought me back to the Capuchin Cemetery in Rochestown, Co. Cork where I went looking for the Celtic Cross headstones made by Seamus Murphy for Fr. Albert and Fr. Dominic whose bodies were repatriated in 1958 – 23 years after the death of Fr Dominic who was chaplain to both Cork Lord Mayors who died in 1920, Tomás MacCurtin and Terence MacSwiney. But there was no sign of a Celtic Cross. The graves of Fr Dominic and Fr Albert were marked with a cross – a simple cross just like all of the others in the cemetery. A friend did ask a member of the Capuchin community in Rochestown who recalled that some years ago, a Provincial decided that all priests and brothers were equal and should be recognised as equal. The location of the Celtic Crosses removed to make way for the uniform simple cross memorials remains unknown. The principle of all being equal in death did not extend to the African Missions Cemetery in Wilton in Cork. It appears to have been introduced in Maynooth but not retrospectively – the newer paintings appearing to have no adornment on the picture frame. I foresee that I will be in a rabbit hole in the future trying to understand the different hat syles and meanings…… One of the side effects of the policy of Ann Doherty and the team at Cork City Council to create near traffic standstill on MacCurtain Street is that one gets plenty of time to look at the buildings and also the cars in adjacent lanes.
In previous years, I probably would not have seen these cats – reminded me of Dingle.
40 Shades of Green Taking my morning coffee and croissant earlier today, I wondered as to the post box across the road at St Luke’s Cross. It was definitely not the normal shade of green for postboxes – Emerald Green. This evening, I returned to photograph and suspect that the brighter green is an undercoat as the demarcation between the green and black is far from sharp.
I suspect that same excuse does not apply to the wall box at Mitchel St in Clonmel, Co. Tipperary. The box is still open for use but is painted camouflage grey – possibly to fool the tourists….. This morning, I started filing away some of my photographs, a long overdue task. I got as far back as late July and this roadside Calvary cross on the Buttevant to Kildorrery road (R532). The filing of the photographs stopped as the vague recollections stirred. I was correct in thinking that I had another in the Grotto folder named Wallstown. Only when comparing the two did other coincidences come forth: The majority of roadside grottos or religious statues are to the Blessed Virgin Mary. Calvary crosses are not nearly as common. When I eventually get around to populating the full database, I will be able to give the percentage but suspect it will be in low single digits. 1954 was a Marian Year as is regularly noted on the roadside shrines. 1932 is not as common – another for the database recording. When plotting the crosses on the map, they are not very far apart. They both mention Julia M. Crowley and 1932. She erected, or caused erected, the Calvary Cross on the N73. She died on 27th September and the Calvary Cross on the R532 was erected in her memory – interestingly, this one has statues of three others praying and remembering, whereas the earlier one does not. Julia M. Crowley of Wallstown Castle has gone onto the To Find Out More list……
Earlier I was reading a blog post on The River-side about banned books and particularly, The Tailor and Ansty.
In it, the UCC Library included a photograph of what was Seán Ó Ríordáin’s copy of the book, which made me smile. Many years ago, I decided that my books were mine and it was ok to make notes and underline passages. Not alone did Seán Ó Ríordáín do likewise – but we both made notes as to Ring- A-Dora. I did stop when I spotted one of the side altar dedicated to Pope John Paul II.
Taking chill out and chill time in the Basilica of San Miguel while the dedicated shoppers did their thing, I was surprised that the first side altar on the right contained a statue to the former pope. I did remember that the canonisation of John Paul II was some years ago, subsequently checked to be 2014. But my very limited religious participation has contributed to, since then my not hearing the words Pope John Paul II – hence the surprise. |
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