This week, we were
renovating a one hundred year old house in Connemara at the foot of the Maam
Turks with stunning views of the Twelve Bens. It’s been uninhabited for
15 years so there is quite a lot of rot, woodworm and debris. We planned on doing one room at a time but it
took one day to remove rubbish, rot and efflorescence that had built up in the
kitchen alone. This included a medium
sized bird skeleton that could be mistaken for a baby dinosaur. Sheep roam around the house and we plan on
fencing it off. There is a small lake decorated
with lily pads, and surrounded by rushes, only five metres from the back
door. There is a bigger lake over the
hill nearer to the mountain for swimming and boating near Honey Fitz’s house.
Dishes were washed in boiled lake water on a portable stove this week and
china dried on the rocks. Much time has been spent removing the old grape vine
and honeysuckle that had taken over the conservatory. They attract
millions of insects and I got bitten alive on the face and hands. The
kitchen was purpose built for a very tall man. While Peter will be happy with
the ergonomics, I will spend much time stepping up and down an Ikea footstool until
we have the funds to replace it. The antique furniture that was there will need
to be treated or destroyed due to woodworm. This will significantly delay my
plans to set up my piano there. It is
the perfect place to write and record.
As far as the décor goes, the main living area and bedrooms will have
the original stonework exposed and whitewashed.
In contrast to this, I decided to take an experimental approach to
painting the kitchen, painting the units all different primary colours,
including the doors, while keeping the walls white. The curtains are all torn and moth eaten and
need to be replaced (I have a bail of fabric from the 1970’s that will do the
job fine). Much time was also spent trying to fix the burnt out water pump.
After much trial and error, we finally had a smooth flow of brown lake
water coming out of the kitchen tap. I
really dislike using plastic bottled water (be honest now, are the bottles
really recycled?) and have yet to look into other drinking water options. After all that grueling labour, we chickened
out of pitching our tent, and found a B & B at the last minute. When
we returned the next morning, two French world travellers called Elise and
Ewen, had pitched their tent up in the front garden. They didn’t feel the need to lock their very
expensive recumbent bikes. They’d saved
up, sold all their furniture and given up their jobs, to cycle around the world
for four years. We got to practice our French. My Irish was also tested by one of the
locals. I need to work on it. We’re back in Limerick now, packing boxes and
resting up for another week of renovating on Monday.
