The skies are wide in the Irish Midlands. Wide-open and scattering bright light even on this overcast day. We are motoring down the N4, following the signs for Athlone. Actually we are going to stop first at the small town of Clara. The town rises out of the bog which encloses the south of the town. The river Brosnan flows through Clara on its way to the Shannon, and the railway passes through, on its way to Athlone. Through but not stopping. The railway first came to Clara in 1854, the Midland and Great Southwestern being attracted by the huge industry of the town. Back then were three huge flour mills, and twenty four linen, flax mills, not to mention five distilleries and three brewerys. Clara was one of the most prosperous towns in all the midlands. Today, although it is still a commercial and manufacturing hub it is on a far smaller scale.
Clara is where my mother was born and so today we are on a kind of pilgrimage to see this place. I find it all rather sad and melancholy. I have no way of identifying the house where she was born. Her birth certificate says "Collinstown" which is a small settlement south of the station and the town. Approximately ten houses along a small lane. But which one? Don't know. Take them in with the eye as I turn the car around.
I have promised to show Liam what a bog is. We drive along the arrow straight road that flies south from the town centre and which goes out across the Clara bog, a part of the far larger Bog of Allen which extends thousands of square miles between here and the Mountains of Wicklow. We walk out into the bog, squelchy and rough. He takes photos of the cotton grass and the orchids. On the way back we recross the rickety bridge - which promptly collapses under my weight. I am in the bog up to my waist! A bit too close a view for my liking.
We drive into Athlone. A delightful town on the Shannon. Really far more pleasant than I had imagined. A lovely large bridge across the river, promenades. We check into our B&B - lovely, wacky interior and decorations. We have a walk about in the evening air which has become sunny and almost balmy. Our first day in Ireland is drawing to a close. Asking us about what we have been doing today our landlord describes Clara as a "desperately melancholy" place. I think I agree.
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