Happy 18th Birthday Kaylie!!!....Woohoo...

Happy Birthday Kaylie... I know it is past midnight there, but it is still the 23rd here, so I can still say it... I hope you had the best day, as I am sure you did. Have a great year sweetheart, you deserve it... Love you heaps.

I don't suppose Kaylie thought about her poor ancient aunt running around the Irish countryside on her birthday, but that is what I was doing. I caught the bus to Ballyvourney and arrived about 9:35am. You will think I am nuts, but on the bus I asked Bridget to help me, if I was on the right journey and suddenly the sun came out. It had been drizzling all morning, so I took that as a sign. Bridget and I were on a mission together. I/we proceeded to the church that I was told is the only one in Ballyvourney and apparently it was, back in 1835. So as I/we wandered up the drive, all excited like, the sun came out again. Then I heard the prayers, good grief there was a service going on!!! Well what does a person do? I snuck in the back pew and waited for it to end. Not being catholic and as half the service was in Gaelic, I had no idea what was going on, so I sat, knelt and stood when they all did, mumbled stuff under my breath and tried to look like an Irish catholic. I am not sure how successful I was, but nobody pointed and laughed so I must have done alright. I am sure my Mum will be delighted that I attended a church service, though maybe not a catholic one.. But then better a good catholic than a bad Protestant, eh?? Anyway I waited until the service ended, those Irish catholics sure like to gossip after the service, it took ages for them all to depart, standing around in little circles they were, chatting away.... I noticed the priest (he was the fella I was interested in) go into a door in a wooden box on the side of the church, ah ha I thought, confessional. So I was very patient, I wandered around the church and read the windows etc. I am not sure how long confessional should take, but he seemed to be an incredible time, all the folk had stopped gossiping and left the church. So I thought he must have escaped me somehow and rethought the whole confessional thing. Apparently the wooden box leads outside, so I shot out the front and found the good father with a pair of long garden clippers in his hand (I would have said secateurs, but I have no idea how to spell it) anyway I nabbed him right then. I asked if this was the only church and would Bridget have been baptised here, he said yes and the records would be in his house, would I like to look!!!! Would I!!! So off we went. Well there is was, the original baptism record... BUT there were no other O'Briens baptised there, so I am still not certain if it is my Bridget!! I was so hoping to find the siblings baptised there as well. So now did my O'Briens arrive there after all the other children were baptised? Where did they come from? Or is this another Bridget altogether, I still have no proof she is mine, well except the sun coming out, does that count??

Father O'Brien, yes he is an O'Brien, but not one of mine, he offered to photocopy the record for me, lovely man. I was so grateful and not sure if I should offer him any money!! I am so not catholic, I have no idea of catholic protocol. So I thanked him profusely and as I was leaving I got out my purse. He said no it is not necessary, but I wanted to show my appreciation, I only had a 5 Euro note on me, so I thrust that at him mumbled something like "for the poor" and went all red in the face. He tucked the note into his pocket and I think he thanked me, but he may have blessed me, I was too embarrassed to hear right. I bolted up the path back to the church, I was taking a picture of it, just in case she does turn out to be my Bridget, when Father O'Brien turned up again. He told me that there was a plaque in the church stating it had been built in 1827 if I wanted to see it. So I took a photo of that too, I had seen it earlier, but as it is in Gaelic I had no idea what it said. I then proceeded to walk around the village, most of the houses where too new to have been there in 1835 to 1852 when Bridget would have been there (if she is mine). So I took some photos of the countryside as that would not have changed that much. Oh I forgot to mention the church does not hold burial records (bugger..) as that would have told me if Richard and Bridget (my Bridget's parents) had died in Ballyvourney.. They only have the birth records... I am very grateful to Father O'Brien, he could not have been nicer and he did not make me feel like I was encroaching on his time, bless him.

I then came back to Cork. I had really enjoyed my day and I feel very close to Bridget, even if it turns out she isn't mine.
It is almost impossible to get out of Cork, did you know that? I have been trying to find a way to Cornwall for days, it got to the point that I was wondering the street of Cork singing to myself "I gotta get outta this place, if it's the last thing I ever do!" sing with me, "I gotta get outta this place..." Well it would cost me $300 Aus to fly to Plymouth and that wouldn't be til Friday, too much and too late. Trains are a nightmare over here, so I didn't go there. So I finally decided to take a bus. Well, if I take the bus to Cardiff it would cost me 58 pounds and arrive at 3am, or if I take the bus all the way to London it will cost me 58 pounds and arrive at 7:45am. I would much rather arrive somewhere at 7:45 than 3am, seeing as it is the same price and all. So I decided to do that. I should have less trouble getting from London to Cornwall than from Cardiff to Cornwall. So I then looked online and I have booked a bus from London to Plymouth to 18 pounds on Friday late morning. So there you are, like I said getting out of Cork is not easy...

I now have to look for accommodation in Cornwall. So til later, I hope you enjoy the pics of Ballyvourney...

Cheers
Lones


Ballyvourney Church


The local creek


A farm cottage


One view of the village