Stories

Stories

Gobble Gobble Gobble....

Gobble Gobble Gobble....

  Posted by Clare Grennan in: Christmas dinner, Christmas time, Christmas turkey, Hells Kettle Farm

On announcing that we were going to visit our Christmas turkeys, we were met with mixed reactions from friends and family. ‘Why would you want to do that? Surely that would put you off eating turkey, watching 200 carefree birds unaware of their imminent fate?’. Firstly, this is the very point, we visited a flock of very happy, curious turkeys roaming a hazelnut orchard, grazing, foraging, basically, utterly content. In an age of intensive farming methods, it is encouraging to see a rise in farms focusing on organic, sustainable farming methods, with an emphasis on providing excellent animal welfare (which results in some pretty tasty meat).

Nestled in the picturesque Wicklow countryside, at the Northern end of the Glen of Imaal lies Hell’s Kettle Farm. On a crisp, Autumnal morning, we called into this family run, organic farm to have a chat with Gavin and Linda over a cup of tea and some tasty cakes. Gavin’s family have been farming on this land for generations. Named after the river and bridge which runs alongside the farm, Hell’s kettle focuses on high quality, low impact, sustainable farming. Gavin and Linda (the resident vegetarian) maintain these principles under the guidance of ‘wise older farmer’ Pat Lynch. Specialising in Organic Wicklow beef, free range organic bronze turkeys, fruit and hazelnuts, Hells Kettle focus on traditional farming methods, ensuring their produce and animals grow in the best possible environment. In addition, all slaughtering and butchery takes place on the farm, minimising stress for the animals.

Gavin and Linda’s bronze turkeys are reared for approx 140 days. This is double the lifespan of a non organic, supermarket turkey. Displaying natural behaviour in their orchard environment, they spend their days dust bathing, perching & playing. They are a curious, nosey breed who act as a group (they were very taken with my yellow shoelaces!), wandering into their cosy shed at nightfall. Focusing for so long on keeping these birds happy, healthy and comfortable, it can be difficult come slaughter, particularly for Linda, who makes herself scarce on that fateful day in mid December. As mentioned, slaughtering takes place in the most humane way possible, on Hells Kettle farm. ‘Plucking day’ follows slaughter, which involves family, friends & neighbours lending Gavin and Pat a helping hand. (Linda’s role is preparing an end of day feast for the hungry pluckers). Linda’s granny is an expert in the art of ‘pin feathering’ and looks forward to the day with great enthusiasm. (Pin feathering is removing the smaller, stubborn feathers with a tweezers. It is done more so for aesthetic reasons). Once all some 200 turkeys are plucked, they are hung for a week, gutted and oven ready for a Christmas Day feast.

A Hell’s Kettle turkey is as far removed from an intensively reared bird as it gets. From the care and attention given to every aspect of rearing, slaughtering and butchering, to the respect for traditional farming methods. ‘Everything is done as nature intended. Some call it organic, we just call it common sense’-Gavin.

To order your Hells Kettle organic bronze turkey, contact Linda and Gavin directly.

Alternatively, visit their stand at this years Christmas on the Square.




 

 

Gobble Gobble Gobble....

Gobble Gobble Gobble....

  Posted by Clare Grennan in: Christmas dinner, Christmas time, Christmas turkey, Hells Kettle Farm

On announcing that we were going to visit our Christmas turkeys, we were met with mixed reactions from friends and family. ‘Why would you want to do that? Surely that would put you off eating turkey, watching 200 carefree birds unaware of their imminent fate?’. Firstly, this is the very point, we visited a flock of very happy, curious turkeys roaming a hazelnut orchard, grazing, foraging, basically, utterly content. In an age of intensive farming methods, it is encouraging to see a rise in farms focusing on organic, sustainable farming methods, with an emphasis on providing excellent animal welfare (which results in some pretty tasty meat).

Nestled in the picturesque Wicklow countryside, at the Northern end of the Glen of Imaal lies Hell’s Kettle Farm. On a crisp, Autumnal morning, we called into this family run, organic farm to have a chat with Gavin and Linda over a cup of tea and some tasty cakes. Gavin’s family have been farming on this land for generations. Named after the river and bridge which runs alongside the farm, Hell’s kettle focuses on high quality, low impact, sustainable farming. Gavin and Linda (the resident vegetarian) maintain these principles under the guidance of ‘wise older farmer’ Pat Lynch. Specialising in Organic Wicklow beef, free range organic bronze turkeys, fruit and hazelnuts, Hells Kettle focus on traditional farming methods, ensuring their produce and animals grow in the best possible environment. In addition, all slaughtering and butchery takes place on the farm, minimising stress for the animals.

Gavin and Linda’s bronze turkeys are reared for approx 140 days. This is double the lifespan of a non organic, supermarket turkey. Displaying natural behaviour in their orchard environment, they spend their days dust bathing, perching & playing. They are a curious, nosey breed who act as a group (they were very taken with my yellow shoelaces!), wandering into their cosy shed at nightfall. Focusing for so long on keeping these birds happy, healthy and comfortable, it can be difficult come slaughter, particularly for Linda, who makes herself scarce on that fateful day in mid December. As mentioned, slaughtering takes place in the most humane way possible, on Hells Kettle farm. ‘Plucking day’ follows slaughter, which involves family, friends & neighbours lending Gavin and Pat a helping hand. (Linda’s role is preparing an end of day feast for the hungry pluckers). Linda’s granny is an expert in the art of ‘pin feathering’ and looks forward to the day with great enthusiasm. (Pin feathering is removing the smaller, stubborn feathers with a tweezers. It is done more so for aesthetic reasons). Once all some 200 turkeys are plucked, they are hung for a week, gutted and oven ready for a Christmas Day feast.

A Hell’s Kettle turkey is as far removed from an intensively reared bird as it gets. From the care and attention given to every aspect of rearing, slaughtering and butchering, to the respect for traditional farming methods. ‘Everything is done as nature intended. Some call it organic, we just call it common sense’-Gavin.

To order your Hells Kettle organic bronze turkey, contact Linda and Gavin directly.

Alternatively, visit their stand at this years Christmas on the Square.




 

 

Danger is Everywhere - A book reveiw

Danger is Everywhere - A book reveiw

  Posted by Laura Caffrey in: Book Review, Children's Book, Chris Judge, Christmas gift

We asked Layla Luan O'Doherty (aged 9) to read and review Danger is Everywhere, a book written by David O'Doherty and Illustrated by Chris Judge.......

"Danger is Everywhere.

There's this guy who hates danger and his name is docter Noel Zone. He used to be a swimming pool life guard until he found out that water made pools dangerous so he got rid of it! He has code words for everything like TITFADIES. top ten tips for danger in every day situations. I'd give this book 4 stars. There is a quiz at the end of this book. He loves cabbage." 

Some of Layla's illustrations inspired by the book......

Danger is Everywhere costs €9, and is available to buy in our shop on Drury Street.

 

 

Danger is Everywhere - A book reveiw

Danger is Everywhere - A book reveiw

  Posted by Laura Caffrey in: Book Review, Children's Book, Chris Judge, Christmas gift

We asked Layla Luan O'Doherty (aged 9) to read and review Danger is Everywhere, a book written by David O'Doherty and Illustrated by Chris Judge.......

"Danger is Everywhere.

There's this guy who hates danger and his name is docter Noel Zone. He used to be a swimming pool life guard until he found out that water made pools dangerous so he got rid of it! He has code words for everything like TITFADIES. top ten tips for danger in every day situations. I'd give this book 4 stars. There is a quiz at the end of this book. He loves cabbage." 

Some of Layla's illustrations inspired by the book......

Danger is Everywhere costs €9, and is available to buy in our shop on Drury Street.

 

 

A haunted dwelling on Aungier Street

A haunted dwelling on Aungier Street

  Posted by Clare Grennan in: Aungier Street, Dublin, Haunted Dublin, Medieval Dublin

Our ghostly tale takes place on one of Dublin’s oldest streets, in one of the great houses which date back to the 17th century. The much over-looked, modern day Aungier street with its assortment of cafes, shops, bars and offices disguises a rich medieval past, hidden beneath contemporary shop fronts and facades. Conservation works are quietly taking place above ground floor units, restoring and protecting these great houses. 9/9a Aungier street, which houses a jewellers and estate agent on its ground floor is of immeasurable importance, being Dublin’s oldest residential building.

Concealed behind an inconspicuous blue door, a rickety staircase leads to the upper levels, where the layers of time are slowly being stripped back to reveal the very bones of this magnificent house. Faded wallpaper of various designs, one pasted over another, floor markings from past partitions & tiny nail holes in the walls from where pictures hung, speak of the former residents of this 350 year old atmospheric building. It was while researching the past occupants, that I came across a tale of haunted happenings and strange disturbances in an Aungier street mansion from the year 1853.

Two medical students by the names of Tom and Richard took up abode in the untenanted 9/9a Aungier street* which served as the perfect residence while completing their studies. It was not long before both began experiencing uneasy nights and disturbed sleep in the scantily furnished residence. Every second night, Richard awoke from frightening visions of an abominable figure which would move from the window towards the foot of his bed. Attempts to dispel these visions by way of a tonic before nightfall proved unsuccessful, and it was not long before Richard discovered Tom was experiencing equally uneasy nights.

One night, for a wonder, I was sleeping soundly, when I was roused by a step on the lobby outside my room, followed by the loud clang of what turned out to be a large brass candlestick, flung with all his force by poor Tom Ludlow over the banisters, and rattling with a rebound down the second flight of stairs; and almost concurrently with this, Tom burst open my door, and bounced into my room backwards, in a state of extraordinary agitation.

Overcome with anxiety and fear, poor Tom was unable to speak of the hideous vision which so unmanned him. The following morning, Tom had made the decision to visit his father while Richard sought alternative accommodation, both concluding moving out of the haunted dwelling was necessary.

A week elapsed before alternative quarters were secured on Digges street, in which time poor Richard was haunted by nightly occurrences of heavy footsteps descending the medieval staircase from the gloomy loft. Thankful of Tom’s return, Richard relayed his week of fearful nights over breakfast in the mansion before moving their belongings to their new residence.

Having recovered from his own night of horror in the Aungier street house, Tom decided to disclose the details of his vision to his good friend:

Without a start or fearful sensation of any kind, I waked gently, but completely. It was, as you have good reason to remember, long past midnight--I believe, about two o'clock. When sleep has been deep and long enough to satisfy nature thoroughly, one often wakens in this way, suddenly, tranquilly, and completely.

 "There was a figure seated in that lumbering, old sofa-chair, near the fireplace. Its back was rather towards me, but I could not be mistaken; it turned slowly round, and, merciful heavens! there was the stony face, with its infernal lineaments of malignity and despair, gloating on me. There was now no doubt as to its consciousness of my presence, and the hellish malice with which it was animated, for it arose, and drew close to the bedside. There was a rope about its neck, and the other end, coiled up, it held stiffly in its hand.

"My good angel nerved me for this horrible crisis. I remained for some seconds transfixed by the gaze of this tremendous phantom. He came close to the bed, and appeared on the point of mounting upon it. The next instant I was upon the floor at the far side, and in a moment more was, I don't know how, upon the lobby.

 "But the spell was not yet broken; the valley of the shadow of death was not yet traversed. The abhorred phantom was before me there; it was standing near the banisters, stooping a little, and with one end of the rope round its own neck, was poising a noose at the other, as if to throw over mine; and while engaged in this baleful pantomime, it wore a smile so sensual, so unspeakably dreadful, that my senses were nearly overpowered. I saw and remember nothing more, until I found myself in your room.

"I had a wonderful escape, Dick--there is no disputing that--an escape for which, while I live, I shall bless the mercy of heaven. No one can conceive or imagine what it is for flesh and blood to stand in the presence of such a thing, but one who has had the terrific experience. Dick, Dick, a shadow has passed over me--a chill has crossed my blood and marrow, and I will never be the same again--never, Dick--never!"

The handmaid, a local woman, was present for Tom’s recollection, and by its conclusion was quite unnerved. "It's often I heard tell of it," she now said, "but I never believed it rightly till now” She relayed the story of a former dweller in the house, a man by the name of Judge Horrocks, infamous for sentencing numerous souls to death by hanging. This most unpopular, and hateful judge came to his own unpleasant end, in the very house in which they stood, and was found hanging from the banisters in the great stairwell some years earlier.

In this cold light of day, Tom and Richard packed the remainder of their belongings, relieved to be leaving the haunted residence, the cause of immeasurable fear and torment.

“And so, we all sallied out together, each of us breathing more freely, I have no doubt, as we crossed that ill-omened threshold for the last time.”

 

To read the full tale of the haunted residence on Aungier street,follow the link here.                                                                    *Although it is unconfirmed this ghostly tale occurred in 9/9a Aungier street, Nicola Matthews (Dublin Civic Trust) assures us it is most probably the location, as the character and layout of the interior relates to that of 9/9a.

Top image courtesy of the Irish Georgian Society.

 

 

 

 

 

 

A haunted dwelling on Aungier Street

A haunted dwelling on Aungier Street

  Posted by Clare Grennan in: Aungier Street, Dublin, Haunted Dublin, Medieval Dublin

Our ghostly tale takes place on one of Dublin’s oldest streets, in one of the great houses which date back to the 17th century. The much over-looked, modern day Aungier street with its assortment of cafes, shops, bars and offices disguises a rich medieval past, hidden beneath contemporary shop fronts and facades. Conservation works are quietly taking place above ground floor units, restoring and protecting these great houses. 9/9a Aungier street, which houses a jewellers and estate agent on its ground floor is of immeasurable importance, being Dublin’s oldest residential building.

Concealed behind an inconspicuous blue door, a rickety staircase leads to the upper levels, where the layers of time are slowly being stripped back to reveal the very bones of this magnificent house. Faded wallpaper of various designs, one pasted over another, floor markings from past partitions & tiny nail holes in the walls from where pictures hung, speak of the former residents of this 350 year old atmospheric building. It was while researching the past occupants, that I came across a tale of haunted happenings and strange disturbances in an Aungier street mansion from the year 1853.

Two medical students by the names of Tom and Richard took up abode in the untenanted 9/9a Aungier street* which served as the perfect residence while completing their studies. It was not long before both began experiencing uneasy nights and disturbed sleep in the scantily furnished residence. Every second night, Richard awoke from frightening visions of an abominable figure which would move from the window towards the foot of his bed. Attempts to dispel these visions by way of a tonic before nightfall proved unsuccessful, and it was not long before Richard discovered Tom was experiencing equally uneasy nights.

One night, for a wonder, I was sleeping soundly, when I was roused by a step on the lobby outside my room, followed by the loud clang of what turned out to be a large brass candlestick, flung with all his force by poor Tom Ludlow over the banisters, and rattling with a rebound down the second flight of stairs; and almost concurrently with this, Tom burst open my door, and bounced into my room backwards, in a state of extraordinary agitation.

Overcome with anxiety and fear, poor Tom was unable to speak of the hideous vision which so unmanned him. The following morning, Tom had made the decision to visit his father while Richard sought alternative accommodation, both concluding moving out of the haunted dwelling was necessary.

A week elapsed before alternative quarters were secured on Digges street, in which time poor Richard was haunted by nightly occurrences of heavy footsteps descending the medieval staircase from the gloomy loft. Thankful of Tom’s return, Richard relayed his week of fearful nights over breakfast in the mansion before moving their belongings to their new residence.

Having recovered from his own night of horror in the Aungier street house, Tom decided to disclose the details of his vision to his good friend:

Without a start or fearful sensation of any kind, I waked gently, but completely. It was, as you have good reason to remember, long past midnight--I believe, about two o'clock. When sleep has been deep and long enough to satisfy nature thoroughly, one often wakens in this way, suddenly, tranquilly, and completely.

 "There was a figure seated in that lumbering, old sofa-chair, near the fireplace. Its back was rather towards me, but I could not be mistaken; it turned slowly round, and, merciful heavens! there was the stony face, with its infernal lineaments of malignity and despair, gloating on me. There was now no doubt as to its consciousness of my presence, and the hellish malice with which it was animated, for it arose, and drew close to the bedside. There was a rope about its neck, and the other end, coiled up, it held stiffly in its hand.

"My good angel nerved me for this horrible crisis. I remained for some seconds transfixed by the gaze of this tremendous phantom. He came close to the bed, and appeared on the point of mounting upon it. The next instant I was upon the floor at the far side, and in a moment more was, I don't know how, upon the lobby.

 "But the spell was not yet broken; the valley of the shadow of death was not yet traversed. The abhorred phantom was before me there; it was standing near the banisters, stooping a little, and with one end of the rope round its own neck, was poising a noose at the other, as if to throw over mine; and while engaged in this baleful pantomime, it wore a smile so sensual, so unspeakably dreadful, that my senses were nearly overpowered. I saw and remember nothing more, until I found myself in your room.

"I had a wonderful escape, Dick--there is no disputing that--an escape for which, while I live, I shall bless the mercy of heaven. No one can conceive or imagine what it is for flesh and blood to stand in the presence of such a thing, but one who has had the terrific experience. Dick, Dick, a shadow has passed over me--a chill has crossed my blood and marrow, and I will never be the same again--never, Dick--never!"

The handmaid, a local woman, was present for Tom’s recollection, and by its conclusion was quite unnerved. "It's often I heard tell of it," she now said, "but I never believed it rightly till now” She relayed the story of a former dweller in the house, a man by the name of Judge Horrocks, infamous for sentencing numerous souls to death by hanging. This most unpopular, and hateful judge came to his own unpleasant end, in the very house in which they stood, and was found hanging from the banisters in the great stairwell some years earlier.

In this cold light of day, Tom and Richard packed the remainder of their belongings, relieved to be leaving the haunted residence, the cause of immeasurable fear and torment.

“And so, we all sallied out together, each of us breathing more freely, I have no doubt, as we crossed that ill-omened threshold for the last time.”

 

To read the full tale of the haunted residence on Aungier street,follow the link here.                                                                    *Although it is unconfirmed this ghostly tale occurred in 9/9a Aungier street, Nicola Matthews (Dublin Civic Trust) assures us it is most probably the location, as the character and layout of the interior relates to that of 9/9a.

Top image courtesy of the Irish Georgian Society.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dunbeacon Pottery

Dunbeacon Pottery

  Posted by Clare Grennan in: Dunbeacon Pottery, Durrus, Irish Ceramics, Tableware

On a sunny Sunday morning in late August, we arrived into the picturesque West Cork village of Durrus. Pinned to the doors of a closed local shop hung some twenty plastic carrier bags. On closer inspection, we realised each bag was marked with a customers name and contained their Sunday Newspaper. Not exactly astonishing, but surprising all the same, particularly to a couple of Dubs who can’t believe these bags haven’t been nicked.

West Cork is renowned for its strong sense of community. Durrus is situated on the Sheeps Head peninsula, and consists of a tiny main street lined with overflowing hanging baskets. The lure of a small community coupled with stunning scenery has enticed many to settle in pretty West Cork villages such as Durrus for decades now. Dublin native Helen Ennis is one such visitor who decided to make this quaint part of the country her home.

In 2000, Helen took over the running of Dunbeacon Pottery following many years apprenticing for potters all over Ireland. In the past 14 years, she has built a loyal customer base with her brand of hand made, functional ceramics.

Helen’s studio and showroom, which overlooks her beautifully maintained garden and out to the sea, is open to visitors six days a week. Over a cup of coffee, we discussed life in West Cork, Helen’s design and making process and best places to eat in the area! …….

Can you tell us a little about the making process?

Firstly, I process the clay, then, in order:  throwing, turning, applying handles if necessary, bisc firing, glazing and finally glaze firing. The entire process can take up to 2 weeks to complete.

Do you have any new ranges and or products in the pipeline?

At the moment I am happy working on the ranges I currently produce, my customers obviously like them too as they are selling well. While I always have ideas for other ranges in the back of my mind for now I am happy to work at what I do.  I am going to the States next week and am looking forward to visiting ceramics galleries as well as some studios too hopefully.

Being self employed has its challenges, what are the best and worst bits?

Being self employed is great in that I have control over each aspect of production, on the downside I am the only one to blame when any such aspect goes wrong!

How do you like to switch off from the pottery business?

For down time from the pottery there is plenty of walking to do in the area. But mostly I enjoy spending time with friends. The wealth of friendships that I have built up in west Cork is integral to living in this area for me. Recently, we have been doing a shared gardening group where we go to to a friends garden as a group and get some bigger jobs done, its a good social opportunity as well as getting some garden chores done!

I also enjoy going for a drink in Levis' pub Ballydehob, there will often be some kind of session on there at the weekend

Finally, West Cork is renowned for artisan food production, where are your favourite foodie spots in the area?

For food I like The Stuffed Olive and Organico in Bantry, Good Things Cafe in Durrus usually has interesting locally sourced delicious food. For the best (and probably biggest!) scones in west Cork I will go to Jims Coffe Shop in Glengarriff.   Picnic supplies will come from Mannings in Ballylickey or a local farmers market.

 

Dunbeacon Pottery

Dunbeacon Pottery

  Posted by Clare Grennan in: Dunbeacon Pottery, Durrus, Irish Ceramics, Tableware

On a sunny Sunday morning in late August, we arrived into the picturesque West Cork village of Durrus. Pinned to the doors of a closed local shop hung some twenty plastic carrier bags. On closer inspection, we realised each bag was marked with a customers name and contained their Sunday Newspaper. Not exactly astonishing, but surprising all the same, particularly to a couple of Dubs who can’t believe these bags haven’t been nicked.

West Cork is renowned for its strong sense of community. Durrus is situated on the Sheeps Head peninsula, and consists of a tiny main street lined with overflowing hanging baskets. The lure of a small community coupled with stunning scenery has enticed many to settle in pretty West Cork villages such as Durrus for decades now. Dublin native Helen Ennis is one such visitor who decided to make this quaint part of the country her home.

In 2000, Helen took over the running of Dunbeacon Pottery following many years apprenticing for potters all over Ireland. In the past 14 years, she has built a loyal customer base with her brand of hand made, functional ceramics.

Helen’s studio and showroom, which overlooks her beautifully maintained garden and out to the sea, is open to visitors six days a week. Over a cup of coffee, we discussed life in West Cork, Helen’s design and making process and best places to eat in the area! …….

Can you tell us a little about the making process?

Firstly, I process the clay, then, in order:  throwing, turning, applying handles if necessary, bisc firing, glazing and finally glaze firing. The entire process can take up to 2 weeks to complete.

Do you have any new ranges and or products in the pipeline?

At the moment I am happy working on the ranges I currently produce, my customers obviously like them too as they are selling well. While I always have ideas for other ranges in the back of my mind for now I am happy to work at what I do.  I am going to the States next week and am looking forward to visiting ceramics galleries as well as some studios too hopefully.

Being self employed has its challenges, what are the best and worst bits?

Being self employed is great in that I have control over each aspect of production, on the downside I am the only one to blame when any such aspect goes wrong!

How do you like to switch off from the pottery business?

For down time from the pottery there is plenty of walking to do in the area. But mostly I enjoy spending time with friends. The wealth of friendships that I have built up in west Cork is integral to living in this area for me. Recently, we have been doing a shared gardening group where we go to to a friends garden as a group and get some bigger jobs done, its a good social opportunity as well as getting some garden chores done!

I also enjoy going for a drink in Levis' pub Ballydehob, there will often be some kind of session on there at the weekend

Finally, West Cork is renowned for artisan food production, where are your favourite foodie spots in the area?

For food I like The Stuffed Olive and Organico in Bantry, Good Things Cafe in Durrus usually has interesting locally sourced delicious food. For the best (and probably biggest!) scones in west Cork I will go to Jims Coffe Shop in Glengarriff.   Picnic supplies will come from Mannings in Ballylickey or a local farmers market.

 

Flight of the Pidgeons

Flight of the Pidgeons

  Posted by Anne-Marie Neligan in: Dublin, Dublin Bay, Pigeon House, Poolbeg

Being a Kerry woman myself it’s not too surprising to hear I’m not too well informed on my history of Dublin. We stock a lot of pieces in Irish Design Shop depicting landmarks of Dublin and I noticed much confusion from customers around the name of the iconic Poolbeg Generating Station and its chimneys, with many calling it the Pigeon House. I decided to do a bit of research and set things straight.

A tale of thievery, murder and love in Dublin bay...

The Pigeon House surprisingly wasn’t named after the bird, but was named after John Pidgeon the caretaker of a storehouse used by the builders of the Great South Wall. Completed in 1795, it took nearly 30 years to build the nearly 4 mile long wall, extending out to sea from Dublin Port. From the storehouse John Pidgeon and his family sold food and refreshments to hungry passengers crossing the channel. ‘Pidgeon’s House’ became so popular that John and his son Ned would pick up Dubliners at Ringsend, row them down as far as the Pigeon House for food and drink and then back to the village after.

One night the house came under attack by four men armed with sabres. A fight broke out in which Ned was injured and lost all use of his hand. The thieves took all of the family possessions. The Pidgeon’s were so popular that once word spread of the attack, locals started a collection to reimburse their losses. Some days after the attack John and Ned took their boat out fishing. John’s hook got caught on something, he slowly reeled in the line only to discover it was the body of one of the attackers. A second body was washed ashore a few days later.

The following winter John and his wife passed away leaving Ned and his two sisters to fend for themselves. After Ned’s injury he was unable to row and was forced to hire oarsmen. He caught one of the oarsmen in possession of a knife that had belonged to his father. Ned and another boatsman captured the oarsman and brought the prisoner to Dublin, where he confessed to throwing the two men overboard after a fight broke out over dividing the hoard on the night of the raid.

Ned died soon after, leaving his two sisters to fend for themselves. With no other form of income they decided to row the family boat themselves and bring Dubliners to dine at the Pigeon House. It was unheard of at the time for women to row, so their venture became quite popular amongst the men of Dublin. One wintery October evening the two sisters were waiting for visitors outside their home when all of a sudden a violent storm arose. The sisters took shelter until the storm calmed and noticed something out at sea. They rowed their boat only a short distance out to find two men and a child clinging to a plank. The women rescued them and nursed them back to health. One of the men was the captain of the ship and the other was an American man and his child. His wife had passed away and he was coming to Ireland to place his child in the care of relatives. However, there was a happy ending and he fell in love with one of the sisters, and they made a new life together in America. He even found a wealthy partner for her sister.

(story adapted from The Dublin Penny Journal) 

 

In 1793, after the last of the Pidgeon’s left, the Pigeon House Hotel was constructed to accommodate the increasing cross-channel passenger traffic. It was repurposed as an army barracks in 1798 with the increasing threat of a French invasion. The redbrick power station on the site, the skeleton of which still remains today, began operation in 1903. It was finally decommissioned in 1976. The modern Poolbeg Generating Station and it’s chimneys on a nearby site were completed in 1971 and the famous chimneys puffed their final plume of smoke in 2010. To this day the old buildings of the generating station remain colloquially known as the Pigeon house.

Flight of the Pidgeons

Flight of the Pidgeons

  Posted by Anne-Marie Neligan in: Dublin, Dublin Bay, Pigeon House, Poolbeg

Being a Kerry woman myself it’s not too surprising to hear I’m not too well informed on my history of Dublin. We stock a lot of pieces in Irish Design Shop depicting landmarks of Dublin and I noticed much confusion from customers around the name of the iconic Poolbeg Generating Station and its chimneys, with many calling it the Pigeon House. I decided to do a bit of research and set things straight.

A tale of thievery, murder and love in Dublin bay...

The Pigeon House surprisingly wasn’t named after the bird, but was named after John Pidgeon the caretaker of a storehouse used by the builders of the Great South Wall. Completed in 1795, it took nearly 30 years to build the nearly 4 mile long wall, extending out to sea from Dublin Port. From the storehouse John Pidgeon and his family sold food and refreshments to hungry passengers crossing the channel. ‘Pidgeon’s House’ became so popular that John and his son Ned would pick up Dubliners at Ringsend, row them down as far as the Pigeon House for food and drink and then back to the village after.

One night the house came under attack by four men armed with sabres. A fight broke out in which Ned was injured and lost all use of his hand. The thieves took all of the family possessions. The Pidgeon’s were so popular that once word spread of the attack, locals started a collection to reimburse their losses. Some days after the attack John and Ned took their boat out fishing. John’s hook got caught on something, he slowly reeled in the line only to discover it was the body of one of the attackers. A second body was washed ashore a few days later.

The following winter John and his wife passed away leaving Ned and his two sisters to fend for themselves. After Ned’s injury he was unable to row and was forced to hire oarsmen. He caught one of the oarsmen in possession of a knife that had belonged to his father. Ned and another boatsman captured the oarsman and brought the prisoner to Dublin, where he confessed to throwing the two men overboard after a fight broke out over dividing the hoard on the night of the raid.

Ned died soon after, leaving his two sisters to fend for themselves. With no other form of income they decided to row the family boat themselves and bring Dubliners to dine at the Pigeon House. It was unheard of at the time for women to row, so their venture became quite popular amongst the men of Dublin. One wintery October evening the two sisters were waiting for visitors outside their home when all of a sudden a violent storm arose. The sisters took shelter until the storm calmed and noticed something out at sea. They rowed their boat only a short distance out to find two men and a child clinging to a plank. The women rescued them and nursed them back to health. One of the men was the captain of the ship and the other was an American man and his child. His wife had passed away and he was coming to Ireland to place his child in the care of relatives. However, there was a happy ending and he fell in love with one of the sisters, and they made a new life together in America. He even found a wealthy partner for her sister.

(story adapted from The Dublin Penny Journal) 

 

In 1793, after the last of the Pidgeon’s left, the Pigeon House Hotel was constructed to accommodate the increasing cross-channel passenger traffic. It was repurposed as an army barracks in 1798 with the increasing threat of a French invasion. The redbrick power station on the site, the skeleton of which still remains today, began operation in 1903. It was finally decommissioned in 1976. The modern Poolbeg Generating Station and it’s chimneys on a nearby site were completed in 1971 and the famous chimneys puffed their final plume of smoke in 2010. To this day the old buildings of the generating station remain colloquially known as the Pigeon house.