If the thatch could talk, the story of a house long known as The Dairy on the Point Road in Dundalk would prove compelling. That is not only because it is the last house in the Co Louth town with a straw roof, or because my cousin Moira Lennon has brought it back from the brink of dereliction, whilst adding a big extension. The Dairy has been part of our family story since at least the 1820s.
It is where our great-grandmother, Annie Roddy, held her marriage celebrations after surviving a near-drowning incident when she was washed up on the foundations of the lighthouse at the edge of Dundalk Bay, on a stormy August evening in 1884.
It is where our granny, Maria Hearty, grew up and helped on the busy dairy farm and daily milk round which employed 14 people a century ago.
It is where my cousin Moira and her sisters were raised after their mother, Angela, and their one-year-old brother Padraig, were killed in a tragic motor crash in 1968. This tragedy was compounded by the fact that Paddy, my uncle and the girls’ father, was driving the vehicle.
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We had sex maybe once a month. The constant rejection was soul-crushing, it felt like my ex didn’t even like me
Unsurprisingly, the tragedy took a lifelong toll on Uncle Paddy but, fortunately, his spinster aunt, Bridget still lived in the cottage and became like a mother to the girls.
Keeping the house in good condition was also a challenge.
“Basically, when Daddy got into financial difficulties during the bank strikes of the 1970s he would get thatchers to come with bales of straw and patch it up. If that wasn’t possible, he would take an old sheet of galvanised steel from around the farm and stick it up to stop the rain coming in. To be honest, you could have found anything up there back in those days from parts of cattle trailers to car tyres,” Moira says.
“We got it thatched in 2004, but by that stage the thatcher said the apex of the roof was so flat you could walk across it. Daddy was still living in the house and there was only so much we could do,” she adds.
Three years after Paddy’s death in 2011, Moira, and her partner Owen, found the time to refocus their commitment to bringing this traditional cottage, a protected structure, back to life.
They sought advice from a number of experts including Dr Fidelma Mullane, a leading authority on vernacular culture.
“She was a great help and advised that a fundamental feature of the conservation was that we preserve the original sod, which in this case was muck and horsehair,” says Moira.
“From my understanding, a typical thatched roof has a layer of sods, which are either comprised of earthen materials or turf. They are placed on top f the rafters and laths and the thatch is woven through this wooden lattice. These sods ensure draught-proof insulation and a fireproof barrier.”
In the case of The Dairy, thatcher Joe Leonard from Longford needed to repair some of the hawthorn rafters.
“Joe’s knowledge and skill of thatching came into its own as he saved as much of the original thatch as he could but some of it had gone into dust. So to protect this he had use a layer of galvanised sheeting over which a new layer of thatch was woven,” she says.
However, fixing the thatch was but the beginning of a huge project that involved the conservation and restoration of the entire fabric of the old cottage, and an extension to the rear, which would tastefully meld with the much-loved and respected vernacular.
“My dream was to bring everything back to how it was when we were children: it was so well kept by Mammy and Aunt Bridget, and by my great-granny, Annie, before them,” Moira recalls.
“We managed to preserve all the old walls, the wooden ceilings and windows. In the case of the sash windows, some of the cords were broken on the original weights and we got them repaired,” she says.
As it happens, 2014 was a busy year for Moira and Owen. The couple, who had both been married previously, tied the knot with a celebration in the old Dundalk Gaol, now a cultural centre.
Naturally, the floral arrangements, with fresh straw bouquets a central feature, were in old milk bottles and the big metal cans once used at The Dairy.
It was soon back to reality though, and another planning condition for the development of the project: the retention of the front facade and curtilage of the cottage and site. As a result, there is no sense or visibility of the new extension from the roadside.
The four-roomed traditional cottage sits low and snug on the side of the Point Road, which leads down to Dundalk Bay and its low tide bird sanctuary. Now, there is a new second entrance at its side, with a wall built from recycled old material from the site.
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A wooden door in the wall leads through a tiny courtyard into the light-filled sunroom and adjacent kitchen, whose row of sash windows overlook the cottage garden, the outhouses and the estuary snaking out to the bay.
The old and the new seamlessly merges through a hallway that once encompassed a scullery, dairy and bathroom. These days, it has armchairs and a chess-set on a restored games table, where whist was played over the generations.
“We exposed some of the old external walls in here and the lintels over doors and windows.
It gives a real sense of flow from the old kitchen and great-granny’s bedroom, which is now our sittingroom,” Moira says.
On the far side of the new kitchen, a door leads into another hallway which follows the curtilage of a knocked cowshed. The master bedroom has an en suite with a copper bath, and a walk-in wardrobe, whilst the second bedroom has a bunk bed over another walk-in wardrobe for when the grandchildren are visiting.
“We managed to restore the bottom of the old dresser which stood in the scullery for decades and it is now the washstand in our bedroom,” says Moira.
It is just one of the litany of things she salvaged from inside and outside.
This L-shaped section of the extension gives shelter to the garden from north-easterly winds whipping in from the Irish Sea.
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Indeed, it adds a sense of completion to the framing of the back garden by the whitewashed loft and outhouses. They have been re-roofed with Bangor blue slate and have been repurposed as a home-gym and yoga room and potting shed.
Indeed, on my recent visit in resplendent sunshine, I could have been enjoying an alfresco ouzo in a Greek mountain village, as I sat among the hydrangea and geraniums.
Back in the still coolness of the old kitchen, generations of bric-a-brac line the walls. A centrepiece is the old Wellstood range, re-enamelled in Tipperary, and with a new boiler installed.
“Aunt Bridget would start making Christmas puddings in a big gold crock each year from October. I still have all her crocks. They would simmer and bubble away on that range,” reflects Moira. “She might leave us to look after them as she hopped up on her high nelly bicycle and cycled off to the Redemptorists’ church for Mass. I’d say she said the occasional novena for us. We were a bit wild back then.”
Biggest win
“I suppose being the custodian of The Dairy, I am keeping a part of our heritage for the generations that follow, whilst keeping alive the memories of loved ones who have gone.”
Biggest mistake
“I wish I had designed the kitchen to have a big glass double-door overlooking the garden and its view of the Cooley and Mourne Mountains on the far side of the estuary”.
