The Story of my Cottage in Clare

Cottage Academy: the project that got sidetracked during covid

Doonagore Castle, Doolin - this afternoon

“May this home be a place of discovery
where the possibilities that sleep
in the clay of your soul can emerge
to deepen and refine your vision
for all that is yet to come to birth.”
- John O’Donohue

The original brochure described the cottage as a ‘traditional farmhouse’

Thrown casually over a stone wall enclosing the old piggery is a man’s large black overcoat. It’s been lying there underneath its own overcoat of ivy, for I don’t know how many years. It’s just a casual moment captured in time, something utterly ordinary. And yet this discovery has been one of the most delightful moments of my time here in the place I now call home.

People like to pass us cottage romantics off as silly and idealistic and I can understand that. There is always more to the story however, if I can hold your attention longer than it takes you to tell me ‘knock it down.’ The rural village of Kilshanny, Co Clare is about four miles as the crow flies from the limestone quarries at the Cliffs of Moher.

There, giant thick slabs of stone were hacked from the earth’s rocky crust and fashioned into flagstones to form floors, fireplaces and roofs for many of the structures built around here in the 19th and 20th centuries. Even the piggery had a roof fashioned from flags. In more recent years the pig slept under a corrugated tin roof but the giant timbers that held up the colossal weight of a flag roof still remain.

There is a rich quality to these materials from the earth. They are not corrupted by modern methods of chemical treatment for the purpose of longevity. They are grounding and form a solid structure, an interior within which to rest.

It was rest I was looking for when I first arrived, accidentally in County Clare many years ago now. A row with a boyfriend sent me packing from Cork and in a tearful state seeking warmth and comfort I was drawn by signposts to a seaside place named Quilty. This was pre-smartphone and Google maps and finding nowhere to stay on arrival the road lead me a few miles onwards to Spanish Point. There I found a gorgeous family run guesthouse where staff barely glanced at the running eye-make up and I slept soundly as the Atlantic wind howled outside.

It is around this point I believe that the first imaginings of a cottage in Clare began to form in my mind. Ten years later I was close to ditching that dream, having been outbid yet again, this time on a tumble–down cottage on the outskirts of Doonbeg.
Dejection brought me to the pew of a church where I sat to pray for consolation and spotted a folded note on the seat. It was a handwritten scrawl containing a Novena to St Therese ‘The Little Flower’ and I took this as a sign that with my meagre budget a miracle was required and so began the nine day prayer for heavenly assistance.

Upon completion of a novena, devotees of St Therese traditionally report receiving flowers in some form should their prayers align with the celestial. It was St Valentine’s Day when my bouquet arrived in the form of a cottage advertised on the property website, Daft.ie. It was situated in a most idyllic location in striking distance of the sea. A three bay structure with two grand chimneys containing three pots each. A flagstone path led to saloon style double doors, where flakes of red paint were coming loose from the rotting timber. The house had an air of old grandeur about it, a gentle defiance that struck a chord.

This is the original front door. Isn’t it handsome!

Part of the absolute charm of renovating an old building is picking through what’s left behind. Sacred Heart pictures, old leather shoes and decaying containers of tea and salt. The house had been uninhabited for around ten years but the family that grew up here slept, literally under the slates. There was no insulation in the roof. In my mind, they were practically outside. Aside from nostalgic charm, the lure of a country cottage offers some serious advantages to the cash-strapped buyer. A really good deal will have water and ESB already in situ and a septic tank in place. A well is like winning the lotto. A really super acquisition will have a roof intact and much of the original vernacular architecture still in place, such as a stone arch fireplace, timber sash windows, a flagstone floor.

The time it takes for the sale to go through allows for an interval period of research. Know the materials suitable for a sympathetic restoration of a stone structure. These include lime, hemp and breathable paints. The easiest way to decipher what will work best is to examine how the house was originally built to perform. I steered clear of dry-lining, re-plastered the interior walls in lime and invested in insulation in the roof and floor.

Without good neighbours, there is little point in even tackling the task. Mine have been an absolute blessing and every night that my head hits the pillow I thank God for this immeasurable gift.

The poet and philosopher John O’Donohue was born not far from here in the Caher Valley close to Fanore. O’Donohue says that if we can cross a threshold worthily, we have an opportunity to ‘heal old patterns of repetition, that had us caught somewhere before.’ We can cross over to new ground and leave behind some of our destructive or debilitating behaviours.

I like to think those who embark on a cottage renovation open one great opportunity to cross a threshold of discovery within themselves.

Novena to St Therese:

John O’Donoghue

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The series will continue here each Sunday.