Celtic Roots Craic 64 – Galicia – the Cinderella of Celtic nations

Galician flag

You might have noticed we’ve been playing a lot more Breizh music – from Brittany – on recent shows? That’s because several Breton musicians and bands have contacted me from France – usually through Facebook. And I’m also hoping to get hold of some authentic Galician tunes in the near future, from a similar contact. 

Galicia is the north western province of Spain – with towns like A Corunya, Vigo, Santiago de Compostela – where the famous pilgrimage across the north of Spain terminates. Another inland town is Lugo, which is named after the ancient pagan Celtic God, Lugh – like the village Conlig, close to where I live at the moment – which gives ye a bit of a clue to the Celtic heritage of Galicia.

Unlike Catalonia, which has been having a big row with the Spanish government over independence, the Galicians seem to be happy enough with their lot. They’ve had their own autonomous parliament since 1978 – Franco took away their autonomy while he was in power. The Galicians were originally called Gallaeci by the Greeks and Romans – similar to the Galli – in Gaul, and the Gallati – the Galatians, another Celtic tribe who lived in part of what is now Turkey – St Paul wrote a letter to them, remember? In those days Galicia extended into what is now northern Portugal. They lived in fortified villages called castros – hill forts.

The Roman historians regarded them as a bunch of barbarians – occupying themselves in fighting by day and eating, drinking and dancing at night – sounds like they were true Celts all right! When Rome collapsed the Kingdom of Galicia survived independently for more than 170 years. Like Brittany, the northern part of Galicia had an influx of fellow Celtic Britons, who had been squeezed out by the anglo-Saxon invasion of what then became England. The Britons brought Christianity with them and established their own diocese of Britonia. In 718 Ad the Islamic Moors took over most of Iberia – modern Spain and Portugal, but they never really conquered Galicia – just sent some soldiers to collect taxes from them. 

Unfortunately, the Galicians no longer speak a Celtic language – modern Galician is a Romance language, based on Latin and close to Portuguese, which – although containing lots of Celtic words – disqualifies them, in the opinion of some, from being a truly Celtic nation. At a meeting of the Celtic League in 1986, Galicia officially joined the other six Celtic nations – Brittany, Cornwall, Ireland, Isle of Man, Scotland and Wales. Unfortunately for Galicia, this decision caused an uproar in the Celtic League and – mainly because they no longer have a living Celtic language – Galicia’s membership was revoked again a year later.

Despite this rejection, regular Celtic Festivals are held there – the International Festival of the Celtic World in Ortigueira being one of the largest and best known in Europe, with sometimes over 100,000 visitors. Last year the Galician Parliament recently celebrated the 40th anniversary of self rule with bagpipes and folk songs. Yeah, the place is apparently coming down with bagpipers – which they call gaitas, similar to words used for the pipes in eastern Europe. There are hundreds of pipers – gaiteras – registered in Galicia! Some of the most popular tunes are called munieras – which are very similar to Irish jigs – I’ve played some on past shows.

Galicia has something else in common with the other Celtic nations in that it is remote, hilly and not industrialised. The coastline is made up of rias – flooded river estuaries, similar to those found in Brittany – with plenty of beaches. The climate is generally wetter than other parts of Spain – so us Scots and Irish should feel right at home. And there’s Finisterre – Land’s End in Galician – the second most westerly point in mainland Europe.

And, while it may not be particularly Celtic, the Camino de Santiago pilgrimage ending in Santiago de Compostella, nearby, attracts millions of pilgrims, who walk the Camino Trail and stay overnight in special hostels provided for the pilgrims. The saints bones were rediscovered after the Romans departed and are claimed to be those of the apostle James, who was the first disciple martyred in Jerusalem, then – apparently – secretly transported the length of the Mediterranean by his disciples. Some believe the bones were actually those of the fourth-century, Priscillian, bishop of Avila, who was executed by the emperor as a heretic and whose followers brought his body back to Spain from Trier, in Germany.

A former colleague of mine when I was a lecturer – from here in Northern Ireland – went on the pilgrimage and then wrote a book about it – it’s called ‘Restless Hearts'.

Celtic Roots Craic 63 – Roast potatoes, chips 'n' mash!

Fried farls of potato bread

There is one thing that people always associate with Ireland, although they actually originated in the Americas. The Inca Indians in Peru were the first to cultivate potatoes back around 5,000 B.C.

Then, in 1536, the Spanish Conquistadors conquered Peru, discovered the potato, and brought it to Europe. Sir Walter Raleigh brought potatoes to Ireland in 1589, on his 40,000 acre estate near Cork. And the rest, as they say, is history.

But why is the potato associated so much with Ireland? Well, the main reason is that during Penal times most of the Irish were poor tenant farmers. They grew wheat, barley and oats on their smallholdings, but it took the sale of most of that to pay the high rents.

So, they cultivated a small area of their land in potatoes and mostly they lived on that – which is why the Irish Famine in 1845 and subsequent years had such a devastating affect. The potato blight that destroyed the crops affected Britain and Europe, also, but the people there were not so dependent on the potato for survival – they had bread and meat to live on.
Did you know that all through the famine years, Ireland continued to export cattle, sheep, pigs, wheat and barley in great quantities. Profits came first, unfortunately, and the poor people found their only means of sustenance turned into a rotting mush. Many of them tried to survive on grass and often whole families were found dead with grass stains on their mouths. 

Capitalism and a lack of concern – ‘sure they were only Irish Catholics, weren’t they?’ – caused the deaths of about a million people! Actually, though, quite a few Protestants – mainly Presbyterians – died also. There was no international famine aid, or emotional TV appeals in those days!
So, you’d think we’d have gone right off potatoes by now, wouldn’t ye? Not a bit of it! We were up in Donegal a few years ago and decided to have a meal in Buncrana, in the old railway station, there, which has become a restaurant and pub. 

While we were waiting for a table there was a local boy making a mobile phone call home to his wife. He’d obviously stopped in for a pint, and – by the look of him, he intended to have a few more – but was reassuring his wife, ‘I’ll be home for the spuds, now, so I will. Oh, aye, I’ll be home for the spuds!’ 

When he actually arrived home ‘for the spuds’ is anybody’s guess and whether they were still fit to eat, or stone cold, or burnt, or maybe eaten by the dog – we’ll never know. Perhaps not the recipe for domestic harmony, eh?
Speaking of recipes, I said we were down in Dublin recently – for the first time in a few years. We had a meal in Gallagher’s Boxty House in Templebar and, of course, we both had boxty. It’s a sort of pancake made with potato and then filled with chicken, beef, or whatever, in a sauce – very tasty! You can get it in Belfast, too, on the Belfast Barge – a floating restaurant on the River Lagan. 
In nearly any Irish restaurant you can get a ‘feed a’ champ’, which is mashed potato with scallions mixed in (spring onions, if you’re English). By the way, did you know that the word, scallion, came from the town of Ashquelon, in Israel? Another variation on champ is something called colcannon, which is mashed potato mixed with cabbage. That’s very tasty as well.
But something you’re unlikely to find south of the border is potato bread. That’s an Ulster thing – a vital component of the Ulster Fry, in fact. If ye’ve never had an Ulster Fry, then ye’d better get yerself over here and try one – but maybe not if yer suffering from heart disease already! They also do potato bread in Scotland.
When I was a wee nipper my mother used to make soda bread, wheaten, treacle bread and potato bread – all baked on the griddle set on top of a gas stove. You take a wean a’ cooked potatoes and mash them up, add a wee taste a’ flour and a teaspoonful of salt and spread the mix out on a flour-covered board, or baking sheet. Then you roll the mix out thin and place it on the griddle, with some flour sprinkled on it, cut it into four pieces and cook it dry. You can always fry it up in the pan with oil, or butther, later.
My mother also made a variation on this called potato apple – potato bread with chopped apple mixed in – mmm, delicious! It’s very hard to find anywhere that sells potato apple these days, but ye can easily make it yerself.
The other potato thing we love is potato crisps – or potato chips, if yer American! They were supposedly invented by a black American chef, in Saratoga, New York – one George Crum, I kid you not! – but actually, they first appeared in an English cook book by William Kitchiner in 1817. 
Of course, an Irishman got in on the act – Joe Murphy – who else? known as ‘Spud Murphy’ – who started up the Tayto company in Ireland and is credited with inventing Cheese ’n’ Onion flavoured crisps – my favourite! The Tayto factory in Northern Ireland is inside a big stone castle, down in Tandragee, Co. Armagh. I actually once drove a lorry – a truck – right inside the castle to make a delivery. Oh, and by the way, not far from Dublin we have the Tayto Theme Park!
So, we Irish do love our spuds – purties, praties – whatever! You’ve heard of the Irish mixed grill, haven’t you? – roast potatoes, chips and mash?

Celtic Roots Craic 62 – Huguenots, 'Millies' and the ‘wee blue blossom’.

A field of flax in blossom

I think it’s time for a wee bit a’ history. There are a few things that Ireland is well known for – music, fighting, our accents, Irish whiskey, being scattered all over the world ..  

Apparently Ireland ranks second in the Good Country Index – after Finland, would you believe? But there are a couple of exports that are particularly related to the north, here – Ulster. You’ve heard of Irish linen? 

When the Industrial Revolution came to Ireland it mostly affected the north. Of course, the famine in 1845 contributed greatly to poor people leaving the countryside and heading for towns and cities – and the Irish ports, railways and canals were built to bring produce to those ports, to supply the market in England. Cotton and linen mills were established in towns and villages all over Ulster – but not much south of what since became the border.

The Irish Linen industry developed here because of a group of people called the Huguenots, who emigrated here from France in the mid nineteenth century.  King Henry IV, of France, issued the Edict of Nantes in1598 – which gave religious freedom to the Protestant Huguenots. That, unfortunately, was later revoked by king Louis XIV, who issued the Edict of Fontainebleau in 1685. The Huguenots were stripped of their freedom and ordered to renounce their faith. 

So, thousands of these persecuted Protestants decided to call it a day and emigrate from France and, for some of them, the north of Ireland seemed the right kind of place to head for – as they were pretty much Presbyterians. They brought with them their particular skills in weaving and finishing linen.

Linen is made from flax, and Ireland had a particularly suitable climate and topography both for growing and, after harvesting, for retting the flax. Retting was basically rotting away the outside to leave the strong fibres inside the plant. This was done in a flaxhole – which was a dug out pond, or ditch, where the flax was placed under water for a time. 

Flax has been grown in Ireland from at least the eleventh century, and was referred to as the ‘wee blue blossom’, from the pale blue flowers the plant produced. In the sixteenth century Irish nobles wore tunics – or leines – made from linen which had been dyed yellow, using saffron obtained from the crocus flower. Yellow, apparently, was a status symbol at the time.

Most of the Huguenots arrived here in the nineteenth century – around 5,000 of them – and, by this time, Presbyterians were no longer discriminated against in Ireland. They came to places like Dublin, Cork, Kilkenny, Waterford and Portarlington – and some came to the north and settled around the town of Lisburn. 

They brought Huguenot names, such as Fyfe – I had a friend called Tony Fyfe; Boucher (or Bow cher) – there’s still a Boucher Road in Belfast today; Cloquet (or Clokey), De Vagnes (which became Devanny or Devenny), René (which became Rainey), etc. A lot of these names are still in use today. 

Linen production is mentioned in the ancient Brehon Laws. The Irish trade in wool was too competitive with England and  William of Orange encouraged the Irish Parliament to pass a law restricting wool export and in 1699 it was prohibited altogether. So the Irish had to concentrate on the linen industry instead and, by the end of the eighteenth century linen accounted for about half of Ireland’s exports. 

A Huguenot called Louis Crommelin came here from Cambrai in the north of France – actually, we still have a Cambrai Street in Belfast – only Belfast people pronounce it with four syllables, instead of two – Cam-ber-ai-yah Street!  Crommelin set up a weaving factory in Lisburn – the town where I went to school. He is regarded as the founder of the Irish linen industry. 

In 1825, hand spinning and weaving were replaced by machines and the large Belfast mills came into being. Encouraged by the famine, many people moved from the country to Belfast. Most of the employees were poor, uneducated and female and became known as ‘millies’, or more often, ‘wee millies!’ 

Some of my own family were a part of this story. My great uncle, George Given, moved from owning a grocer’s shop in Dunkineely, Donegal, to Lisburn in 1877. His sons worked as ‘hackle-setters’ in one or other of the two flax mills, he himself drove a cart between the mills. My own father worked in the surviving Linen Thread Company mill for most of his life – though he was an electrician. I actually worked there for one summer myself.

There’s a sad Belfast tale about a man from the Shankill Road who cuts his wife’s throat with a razor and then, in fear of the law, hangs himself with a linen bed sheet twisted into a rope. The story finishes, ‘He went to hell, but his wife got well, and she’s still alive and sinnin’, for the razor blade was German made, but the rope was Belfast linen!’

Celtic Roots Craic 61 – Irish export – good and not so good!

Sunset in northern Manitoba

You’re most likely listening to this because you love Celtic music and culture. There’s a bit of a sad story behind why that’s so popular around the world – we’ve exported Irish and Scottish culture and music because so many people from this part of the world felt they had to leave here and go somewhere where they felt free from oppression. 

The ‘Highland Clearances’ in Scotland resulted in mass emigration to the New World. The English ruled in Ireland for centuries and anyone who didn’t worship in the English way was persecuted – in other words Presbyterians and Roman Catholics. 

During Penal times, Catholic priests were forced into hiding and would come out to a mass rock in remote country to serve their people communion. If they were caught, those who weren’t executed were imprisoned on an island in the west. Presbyterians, likewise, were forced to hold their ‘hedgerow schools’ out in the wilds and the English mocked them and called them ‘blackmouths’, because the children would have stained mouths from eating wild blackberries. For a time both Catholic priests and Presbyterian preachers had a bounty on their heads.

In Oliver Cromwell’s time many Irish people were forcibly transported to the Caribbean as indentured labour in the sugar and tobacco plantations. These Irish labourers were the first European settlers on the volcanic island of Montserrat in 1632, and it’s had an Irish culture ever since – an Irish scholar in 1831 reported that the Irish language was still spoken by both black and white inhabitants. Unfortunately, the Irish later became owners of imported black African slaves and didn’t treat them any better than they had been treated.

The same sort of thing happened in the US and Canada. Many Scots and Irish went there to find religious freedom, and in the early days, some Highland trappers married native women and became full natives themselves – so that today there are native tribes in Manitoba and Saskatchewan with Scottish names like McGregor, Spence, Tait, Macdonald, Calder … Some became what were known as Anglo-Metis, even developing their own ‘Bungee Creole’ language – which was a mixture of Scots Gaelic, Cree and Ojibwe that is still spoken today in certain parts of Manitoba. 

By the way, we passed on to native Americans a form of music and dance, now known as ‘Jiggin’.’ 

But most Irish and Scottish settlers interpreted the native traditions they observed as ‘pagan’ and eventually laws were introduced to ‘civilise’ these people – the ‘Indian Acts’. In Canada the churches were brought in to manage these ‘Residential Schools’ in an attempt to drive the native out of these children – that’s where the term ‘Final Solution’ first came into use! 

Physical and sexual abuse were rife and nearly 50% of the children didn’t survive their Residential School experience. Those that did had been divorced from their traditions, their language and normal family relationships and that often led directly to alcohol, drug and other ‘substance’ dependence of many native people. When I first travelled to a Manitoba reserve in 2004 I apologised on the local radio station for what people from here had done in our name – I got a very positive response. If you want to know more about this check out my ‘Broken Treaties’ podcast on PreciousOil.com

So, nearly anywhere you go in the world you’ll find Irish people – 50 million of them in the US! As like as not they’re involved in building something – and likely spending the proceeds on quenching their thirst and loosening their vocal chords for a wee bit of a ’session!’  But the reason they originally left here to travel to these far off places was maybe not so pleasant. 

Celtic Roots Craic 60 – Belfast, bil-fahst and Canada, eh?

Belfast Harbour at night

Well, yez all seem to like learnin’ how things are said and done in this part of the world. I’ve said it before, but it bears repeatin’ – there’s no such thing as an Irish accent, there’s a whole host of different accents! 

We were at a Thanksgiving feed the other night – about a hundred of us – and there were some Americans there, obviously; some Canadians, too – and opposite me was a friend from Cork – or as they would say, Cark! And a couple of weeks ago we were down in Dublin – for the first time in quite a while. If ye’ve ever had to drive through Dublin, ye’ll appreciate the reasons for avoiding it, unless you’re actually going there. 

Anyway, we were at an International Crime Writers Festival, called, ’Murder One’ – my wife, Gerry, had been asked to read at it. It was in Templebar and we stayed two nights at a hotel in Templebar – a very noisy place at night, with live music in a pub just opposite, but a great place to eat out. We had Greek food one night and Irish boxty another night, with a Russian waiter serving us. 

So, at the Thanksgiving meal we were discussing the fact that both Belfast and Dublin have not one, but two, accents – there’s the 'real Dub' accent of the inner city and then there’s the polite – sometimes called, ‘West Brit’ – accent of the suburbs.

Belfast is the same, only different – if yer from the Newtownards Road ye would probably say, ‘East Belfaast,’ and in the west they’ll say, ‘West Belfaast’, Same with the Shore Road, they’ll say ‘North Belfaast.' But people from more polite parts – like the Malone Road – would say they’re from ’South Belfast!’  

If yer from Belfast nearly every sentence will end with, now – only it’s pronounced, ‘Nye!’ but if yer from county Antrim, it’ll end with, ‘hey’ – ‘I’m from Ballymena, hey!’ And if you live in Derry, hey – no that’s just Derry/Londonderry, with a ‘hey’ stuck on the end, so you can stop Googling where Derryhay is, you won’t find it! – they have their own variation – they’ll say something like, ‘I’m from Derry, hey, mugger!’ 

Actually, we’re not the only ones to end sentences with a particular word. Canadians are famous for putting, ‘eh?’ at the end of a sentence – y’ know, ‘How do you spell ‘Canada’ – it’s  C, eh? N, eh? D eh?’ and not to be outdone, the New Yorkers have their own variation, ‘Huh?’ 

Many years ago – while I was still single – I shared a house just outside Belfast with a friend, John Garrett, from Alabama. We discovered many differences in the languages we both spoke – so that I eventually coined the phrase, ‘The two languages are very similar, aren’t they?’ ‘What’s that?’ ‘Y’know, English and American!’ 

In Ireland a car has a bonnet at the front – the phrase, ‘Pop the hood,’ means something entirely different over here! – you could be eliminating somebody from a rival gang. And cars don’t have fenders, they have wings. We walk on the footpath – not the pavement, and certainly not on the sidewalk!

One thing I will say, though, is Americans and Canadians are usually quite easy to transcribe. I’m compiling a book from radio interviews I did some time ago and the peopl from North America – especially the deep south – they speak steadily and reasonably, whereas the Irish, and the Scots, speak in little bursts. So, that word that you can’t quite make out turns out to be maybe six words all run together. At the moment I’m transcribing an interview with a lady from In-dee-ah – same problem, they speak English – but they pronounce words verrry differently.

So, there ye are, where are ye? Ever since the trouble at the Tower of Babel, communication has become just a wee bit tricky!

Celtic Roots Craic 59 – Patrick's Day, Purim and Molly Bloom's

Murphy's Irish Festival, Tel Aviv

Well, it just so happens that two celebrations are happening back to back this weekend – the Jewish festival of Purim finishes on the 14th of Adar – which is Sunday 16th – and, of course, St. Patricks Day is on the 17th! But y’all knew that last bit, didn’t ye? Anyway, chag Purim sameach to all our Jewish and Israeli listeners. Apparently, there are several day long parties happening at several pubs across Israel. 

At Purim the Jews celebrate the story of Queen Esther, who delivered the whole Jewish race from extinction by the wicked Haman. She fasted and prayed, then went in to the Persian king, her husband, without being summoned, which could have resulted in her own death. Thankfully, the king looked kindly on her and heard her request on behalf of her people. In the end, it was the wicked Haman who was executed, along with his whole family.

To celebrate the deliverance from death of Purim, the Jews give each other presents of food and drink, recite the complete story of Esther, from the bible, donate to charity, eat a lot of food, dress up in fancy dress and masks, drink a lot of alcohol and celebrate in the streets, with dancing and so forth. So, there’s not a whole lot of difference between Purim and St. Paddy’s Day, is there?

Now, you may not be aware of this, but the Israelis are mad keen on Irish music and there are Irish pubs all over Israel. I can’t claim to have visited every one of them – even with my five trips to Israel, so far – but I did get to an Irish festival in Tel Aviv in 2006, which led to me meeting a Jewish brother and sister, originally from here in Ireland – well, he WAS carrying a bodhran! They told about the best Irish pub in Tel Aviv and, of course, I decided to investigate.

The pub is called ‘Molly Bloom’s’ (she was the wife of Leopold Bloom, who was the hero of James Joyce’s book, ‘Ulysses’) and the pub is at the end of Mendele Street, in Tel Aviv, beside the beach. Apparently, on St. Patrick’s Day the street is so packed that the police come and close it off to traffic. 

Anyway, I found it easily enough, and went in to find a packed Irish pub, great food, draught Guinness, and about twenty Irish musicians playin’ their hearts out. One girl had the most beautiful clear Irish voice, singing an unaccompanied song – but it turned out, to my great surprise, that there wasn’t an Irish person among them! They were all native Israelis and brilliant musicians. Needless to say, I’ve been back there since – both for the music, the Guinness and for the great food (the seafood pie, or the venison sausages? Hmm!)

Strange to say, I’ve not officially performed in any of these pubs – though I have busked in Jerusalem at the end of Shabbat – but maybe one day in the future I’ll put that right!  

St. Patrick’s Day is also celebrated all over Moscow and in other strange and far-flung places. So, wherever ye happen to be, ‘Paddys lá sona’ or ‘Lá fhéile Phádraig shona duit.’ – have a great St. Patrick’s Day!

Celtic Roots Craic 58 – 'To Finaghy and beyond'

Captain Courier van – 'To Finaghy and beyond!'

The other day I came across it again, a wee courier service in the Belfast area humorously named, 'To Finaghy and Beyond!' Finaghy, in case ye didn't know, is a village just to the west of Belfast, towards Lisburn – where I originally come from. Finaghy actually means 'white field', fionn being the Irish word for white.  Most place names in this part of the world are from Irish, for instance Belfast comes from Bel Fierste, which means 'mouth of the sandbanks'.  

A lot of place names have common features – the most likely is Bally, from the Irish 'Boile', meaning 'place of' – so we get places like Ballynahinch, 'place of the island' – 'inch', or 'inish' meaning island.  Ballymore would mean 'the big place', whereas Ballybeg means 'the lttle place'. The same with places called Dromore and Drumbeg – both in Co. Down, meaning 'big hill' and 'little hill', respectively. Bunmore and Bunbeg are again 'big river mouth' and 'little river mouth', respectively.  Derry comes from the Irish 'doire', meaning 'an oakwood' – so again you'll find Derrybeg and Derrymore, or sometimes Deramore, all over the place. In Co. Down we have a small place known as Derryboye, 'boy' meaning yellow.

The Irish word for a rock is 'carraig', (from which we get the name Craig), or sometimes 'carrick', for example Carrickfergus, a port town in Co. Antrim, meaning 'the rock of Fergus'. You'll also find plenty of places called Ballincarrig, or Ballycarry – 'place of the rock', and similar. The word for black is 'dubh', as in Dublin, which comes from the Irish Dubh Ling, meaning 'black pool'. So Carrigdubh, or more likely Carryduff, simply means Black Rock. 

Another common place name is 'maghera', which means 'a plain', so you get Magherafelt in Co. Derry, Maynooth in Co. Kildare, and Moycullen, in Co. Galway. A great one in Co. Down is the townland of Magheraconluce, which means 'plain of the meadow of the fort'. Another example is the area known as The Maze, near Lisburn, famous for The Maze Racecourse.

A lot of Irish place names have some religious significance. The Irish word 'kill', meaning a cell, or church, is found all over the country, from Kill, in Co. Kildare, outside Dublin, to Shankill, meaning 'old church' – found near Bray, Co Wicklow, Lurgan, Co. Armagh and also, of course, in north Belfast – the famous, or infamous, Shankill Road.  There are lots of Killbegs and Killmores, Killdrums, Killoughs and so forth. The word 'temple', from the Irish 'teampaill', also meaning church, is often found, for example, Templepatrick, Co. Antrim, or Templemore, in Co. Tipperary.

A more unusual word for church though is Donagh, which literally means 'Lord', but is usually short for 'the Lord's house' – Donaghadee, in Co. Down, for example, means 'the Lord's house of St. Dee'. Donaghmore in Co. Tyrone just means 'big church'. 'Tobair' is an Irish word meaning 'a well', so you get places like Tobermore, 'big well', in Co. Derry, and the monastery of Tobair Mhuire, or 'Mary's Well', in Crossgar, Co. Down. There's a Ballintober, 'place of the well' in Co. Roscommon, and another Ballintubber, in Co. Mayo.

Then there are lots of variations on the word 'fort'.  'Dun' is a an example, usually meaning a fortified house, or stronghold, so we get Co. Down = 'An dun', Downpatrick, Dunmurry, near Belfast, (next to Finaghy, actually!), Dunfanaghy in Co. Donegal, and lots of Dundrums, Dunbegs, Dunmores, etc. 'Lis' is another word for a fort, usually a Celtic ring fort. I've mentioned Listooder before, which is 'fort of the tanner'. Lisnagarvey, Co. Antrim, was the old name for Lisburn, 'Garvey's fort', or 'fort of the gamblers', until the fire there in the 1600s, when it was renamed, Lisburn.  

Yet another name for a fort is 'rath', which refers to the earthen bank enclosing a fort, whereas 'lis' refers to the open space inside. There are quite a few places with 'rath' in their name, Rathlin Island, off the north coast of Co. Antrim, being an obvious one. In Dublin you have Rathfarnham, with its castle, and just outside Belfast there is the Rathcoole Estate, along with a few Rathmores, and a village simply called Rath, in Co. Tipperary.  'Rath' is often abbreviated to 'ra', for example, Rathmelton, in Co. Donegal, which is spelt 'Rath melton', and the townland of Rademon in Co. Down, which comes from 'rath, (or fort,) of the demons'. A stone fort is usually referred to as a 'caiseal', from which the word 'castle' obviously comes, so most names have become castle, e.g. Newcastle, which can be found in several places in Ireland. The famous one is of course the Rock of Cashel, from which Cashel town gets its name.

And before we leave the subject, there's also 'droichead', which means 'bridge', from which we get Drogheda, the town in Co. Louth, and Droiched Nua, or Newbridge, in Co. Kildare.

Celtic Roots Craic 57 – 'Uisce beatha' or a pint a' 'double'

'Warrior Maid' moored in Groomsport Harbour

The sad news is that my boat, Warrior Maid, has sustained a fair bit of damage to the keel over the winter. In fact, it actually sank just before Christmas – though I managed to pump it out later the same day and get it floating again. I had to spend most of the following night during high tide travelling up and  down to the harbour and pumping it out every hour and a half, as the water was coming in steadily. Next day when the tide came up again I pumped her out again and we moved her up the slipway, where she can't possibly sink again. In the wintertime the slip isn't too busy but, even so, I need to get the boat lifted out onto dry ground ASAP. Now that I've got my boat trailer back from a friend, I'll be able to get the crane down to lift her out.  

So, I've been working out in the cold quite a bit – making adjustments to the trailer, cutting, welding, angle-grinding, de-rusting and painting – while I have the chance. Once the boat is on the trailer, I can forget about it for a wee while and start to get some work done on converting my stone barn into a home. The other day, the sun was shining in a clear blue sky, with very little wind, and I worked until it set – by which time it was getting pretty cold. On the way home I was driving west with the remains of a beautiful sunset lighting up the sky in front of me and a huge orange full moon rising behind me. Spectacular!

Well, it's getting close to St. Patrick's Day again, and lovers of Celtic and Irish music and culture all over the world will be wantin' to celebrate the fact. It's amazin' that they don't do this with St. David's Day, St. Andrew's Day, St. George's Day or any other saints day that I know of.  What is it about an Irish saint that has made him so popular? St. Patrick's Day is celebrated enthusiastically in north America, Russia and Israel – as well as many other places where there are Irish immigrants.

I've been to Israel a few times and one of the best Irish pubs I've been to is called Molly Bloom's – right beside the beach in Tel Aviv. The food is great and the music and the atmosphere is even better. The first time I was there was a few weeks before St. Patrick's Day and even on Friday evening (not always the best time for entertainment in Israel) there were around twenty musicians playing in a session there. There is music Monday, Wednesday and Friday – it just starts earlier on Friday. There were guitars, banjos, bodhrans and fiddles galore – and a girl singer with a beautiful 'Irish' lilt …  But there wasn't an Irish person among them!  Every single one was an Israeli. And all over Israel you can find other bars that play Irish music on a regular basis – even in Arad, down in the Negev.

Apparently, Irish culture – and recently especially the northern Irish accent, etc. – is the most popular around the world. No wonder then that when I go abroad – even though, being from Northern Ireland, my passport says 'British' – I don't claim to be British, but Irish.

Locke's Distillery, Kilbeggan, Co. Westmeath

As well as welcoming Irish culture and music around the world, people internationally seem also to have got more and more of a taste for our national spirit – Irish whiskey. Or 'uisce beatha' as it's said in Irish. 'Uisce beatha' is simply a direct translation of the Latin, 'aqua vitae' – 'water of life' in English – and it used to be brewed by monks in monasteries around Ireland. Today there are really only four major distilleries of Irish whiskey in Ireland – so nearly all the different brands of Irish whiskey come from one of these four. One is based way down in Co. Cork, in Midleton;  another is just across the border in Co. Louth, on the Cooley Peninsula, and they also now own the third, originally Locke's Distillery in Kilbeggan, Co. Westmeath. The fourth distillery is in Co. Antrim, at Bushmills on the River Bush.  

I've been on a tour around this distillery – famous for it's Black Bush and Coleraine whiskeys. At the end of the tour you get a free sample of one of the products. That reminds me of the Irishman who once drowned in a vat of whiskey – apparently, he got out three different times to go to the bathroom! That didn't happen to me, thankfully, as – believe it or not – I'm not really a whiskey drinker. I do like the odd pint of the beor dhu mind you – the black stuff, Guinness, that is.

There is a story told – whether true or not, I wouldn't know – of Arthur Guinness witnessing the extreme drunkenness of many Dubliners one Sunday morning, due to their consumption of Irish whiskey the night before. According to this story, Arthur decided that he would produce a much less alcoholic drink that would be much more difficult to get drunk on – hence the birth of Guinness. Arthur actually started by brewing ales, following in his father's footsteps. His father, as land steward for the Archbishop of Cashel, was responsible for brewing beer for the workers on the estate. After he'd been going for a while, a black beer, called porter, brewed in London, became popular in Dublin. Arthur decided to brew this porter himself and soon he was exporting porter to London. After 40 years of brewing he decided to focus his attention on porter, or stout, only.

Many years ago you could go into a pub and order either XXX stout, which was much stronger, or XX, but Guinness withdrew the XXX variety. Even today, you can go into most pubs in Ireland – excepte maybe the trendy ones – and order a pint of 'double.'  With no further explanation required, a pint of Guinness should soon appear. In fact, in most country pubs, just ordering a pint will produce a Guinness, unless you specifiy some other beer. Although porter, or stout, was a relatively new invention, there is mention of vats of black beer in ancient Irish legends such as The Tain – so maybe Guinness is just the latest edition of something which is really as old as the hills.   

Celtic Roots Craic! 56 – 'The Cock Corner' & Co. Down Railway

Downpatrick – BCDR Railway Station

We've been having untypical snow here in Ireland, recently, which, thankfully, has now disappeared.  We're not used to extreme weather here, so it always throws us into chaos – not like my friends in Canada, etc., who are always ready for extremes.  And the great news is that our little cottage project has finally got official Planning Approval so, as soon as the weather gets a little warmer, I'll be able to start turning what looks like a glorified garage into a proper home.  That should be fun.

The stone building was probably erected around the late 1850s, and I've been intrigued to find out more about its history.  It sat on its own, beside a couple of thatched cottages with some farm outbuildings, another farm on the other side and one across the road.  Apart from the church across the road, which dates back to the 1700s and earlier, and a hall just up the hill from us, these are the surviving original buildings of Listooder, Co. Down.  There are also the remains of the stable for donkeys and the minister's horse.  Other cottages were unfortunately demolished by the landlord many years ago, when the tenants had the cheek to ask for some improvements to their properties.  Instead, about a dozen families were all summarily evicted.  The school was demolished around then, as well.

The hamlet has always been  a mixture of Roman Catholic and Protestant right back to the 17th century.  We are right on the crossroads of two country lanes and across from us is a large field, with these two roads and the main road nearby making a rectangle cut off from other fields.  It's called Leggycurry Field, with the main road crossing the small Killygartan River via Leggycurry Bridge, just a quarter of a mile from us.  In that field are two small disused stone quarries, which may have been used to provide stone for the church and houses in the past, but I have another idea.

Travel about a mile north or south from Listooder and you will come to the remains of two railway bridges from the old Belfast and Co. Down Railway, which took passengers and goods to the city from both Ballynahinch and Downpatrick/Newcastle (and on to Castlewellan and Banbridge).  The two lines separated just a mile and a half north of us at a place called Ballynahinch Junction.  The Ballynahinch Line was opened in 1858, while the Downpatrick Line was completed a year later.  The old line used to cross both roads near us on an embankment, which required local stone to be quarried for its construction – perhaps from those selfsame quarries in the field next to us.  Which in turn could mean that our building might have originally been built to house carts and tools connected with the quarry?

The Downpatrick–Newcastle and Ballynahinch lines were closed back in the 1950s. Incidentally, the other branch of the now defunct line went just behind our present house on its way from Newtownards to Donaghadee. The only BCDR line still functioning travels from Belfast to Bangor – two miles away from our current home. When we first moved here we explored the old cutting behind our house and recovered four ends of the original bench seats from a BCDR carriage – the seats themselves having been burnt. Some day I hope to make these into a couple of outdoor benches for our new place.

By the way, a couple of miles of the BCDR track has been restored in Downpatrick, so in the summer you can take a steam engine trip on the old Co. Down Railway from Downpatrick Station out to Ballydugan Mill and lake – mebbe have meal there? – and to the ruins of Inch Abbey in the other direction. Newcastle Station still exists, but no longer a station, but the Queen's Quay terminus in Belfast is long gone.

While researching the history of our proposed new home I learned that, although Listooder is the name of the townland it belongs to, that was not the original name of the hamlet.  The farm building next door had a shop-cum-pub at the end next to us, known as The Cock – what is known in Ireland still as a 'spirit grocers'.  In other words, it sold hardware and groceries to local farmers and kept beer and spirits in the back for those who required them. 

Stories are told of the local minister having to give stern sermons on the evils of drink, after his parishioners had consumed a 'liquid lunch'  between morning and evening services! While excavating inside the building and to the rear I found quite a collection of very old beer, whiskey and medicine bottles – several still intact – complete with several glass stoppers. Less than a mile away was another little 'spirit grocer', known as The Hen – now completely gone. So our hamlet was previously known as The Cock Corner, and is shown as such on old maps of the area.

Belfast's new Titanic Quarter is now the home of a brand new building for the Public Records Office (PRONI) and here I discovered old Rates Records for our property dating back to 1936, when it was shown as a house and shop until 1957. After that, John McCullough – who could conceivably be a distant relation – presumably got too old to run the shop and just lived out his days in a room at the rear. He had no electricity and had to go to the farm next door for water and to use the toilet – even though there was a perfectly good well behind his house.

Before he opened his shop the building was the original home of Listooder Mission Hall, which still survives in a wooden building just down the street.  After John became ill and moved to his brother's farm on Listooder Hill, the building was inherited by a relative, who kept horses at the rear while her two brothers ran both a car repair and a landscape gardening business from the building.  We bought it from this lady in 2007. Quite an interesting little history, eh?

Celtic Roots Craic! 55 – Irish language- north and south

Drumballyroney School, Co. Down

I just learned something the other day that took me a bit by surprise.  Apparently, quite a number of people in east Belfast – usually referred to as 'Loyalist east Belfast!' – are taking a course in the Irish language! Now, to those of you who live in far off places that may not seem such a strange thing – after all, it IS our own language, is it not? But if you have ever spent any length of time in this part of the world, you would soon learn that such a thing has been unheard of for decades.

Part of the reason for that was that Protestants swallowed the propaganda that claimed the Irish language for the Republican Movement. Obviously, then, it was something that Loyalists should avoid like the plague. So, it's a great sign of 'normalisation' that ordinary people from east Belfast should not only be learning Irish, but that no one is voicing any objection to this. The truth, of course, is that for many years the Irish language was kept alive mainly by Presbyterians and other Protestant intellectuals – clergymen, mostly. The first book in any Gaelic language was published in Edinburgh, Scotland, in 1564 – a translation of John Knox's book, 'Liturgy'. The first book in Irish to be printed in Ireland was a Protestant catechism, using Gaelic script.

Irish was spoken by the majority, even in the north of Ireland, up until 1800, or so. When Queen Victoria came to visit Belfast (after Cork and Dublin) in August 1849 (during the Irish Famine), one of the things she noted in her diary was that most of the banners she saw contained the Irish motto, 'Cead mile failte' (a hundred thousand welcomes). Though Belfast was a completely Unionist governed town at that time, nobody felt they were not also Irish.

The British Government prohibited the teaching of Irish in schools. And, strangely enough, the Roman Catholic Church discouraged the learning of Irish in their National Schools until about 1890, seeing it as backward and learning English as the way to better yourself – especially in the British Empire and in America. Even the reformer Daniel O'Connell and other Irish political leaders saw Irish as a backward language.

The Famine itself had removed many native Irish speakers – either by death or emigration – and it was left to Protestant clergymen to instigate moves to preserve and restore the language. Douglas Hyde, the son of a Church of Ireland rector, founded the Gaelic League in 1893, to preserve the Irish language. A branch was formed in Belfast in 1895. Speaking in New York in 1905, he said, 'The Irish language, thank God, is neither Protestant nor Catholic, it is neither a Unionist nor a Separatist.'

At that time there was also a revival of interest in Gaelic sports and the Abbey Theatre was launched in Dublin, which performed plays about Ireland, though still written in English. Well known writers such as W.B. Yeats, J.M. Synge, Sean O'Casey and Lady Gregory were involved in this. Their writing utilised Hiberno-English – the version of English spoken in Ireland – which used many idioms from the Irish language.

Many of those who came to govern the new Free State after independence from England, were influenced by the Gaelic League. Unfortunately, it was infiltrated by members of the Irish Republican Brotherhood and developed radical nationalist aims, with the result that, in 1915, Douglas Hyde resigned as president in protest. From then on the Irish Language became more and more a symbol of the Republican Movement and Presbyterians took less interest in the language because of this.

The new Irish Government continued to use English for all official business, although Government employees had to have a qualification in Irish to apply for a position – though they never had to speak it after they were employed. Irish was made a compulsory subject in schools. To become a teacher you had to have an Irish qualification, though again, all teaching was done in English.

In Northern Ireland the Unionist government discouraged the learning of Irish and the number of Irish speakers declined greatly. The last native Irish speaker here, from Rathlin Island in Co. Antrim, died in 1983. Since the Good Friday Agreement was signed in 1998 Irish was given official recognition and many of the new integrated schools teach the language. Six families established a Gaeltacht in west Belfast back in the 60s, and now there are many Irish language Primary Schools in Northern Ireland and at least four Secondary Schools. The enthusiasm for learning Irish among working class Protestants in east Belfast is a very new departure and it'll be interesting to see how that develops!