Out of Africa

My cousin, Caroline, made a comment the other day about rowing on the lake at Barmeath. It is always called a lake although I have a suspicion it is really a big pond. Whatever it is, it was created as an ornamental feature with islands and a rustic bridge in the 18th century.

It was stocked with Golden Orfe (above) and tench; ducks, coots and moorhens abounded and the scene was rounded off with a pair of swans. Unwelcome visitors were herons and otters.

The boat is aluminium, so resistant to rust. It was brought back from Africa by my grandfather’s friend Bill Eyre who was a bit of a character. He bought an orange grove in Africa – sorry, I cannot be more specific – and went to live there with his wife. She didn’t like the sun so stayed inside, thereby sensibly avoiding skin cancer. He liked big open spaces and bought an aluminium boat light enough to strap onto a ‘plane for fishing expeditions.

The only snag was that there was no money in growing oranges then. He had a poke around and found a disused gold mine on his property. It was a moment’s work to get it open and in production. He gave my grandfather a bar which was used at Barmeath as a doorstop. When I asked to see it my grandfather told me he’d painted it black in case it was stolen and – er – mislaid it.

Bill Eyre often came to stay and provided me with sticky boiled sweets in paper bags. I was a picky eater and turned my nose up at such fare, I hope without offending such a jolly chap. We used to put the boat on the roof of my grandfather’s VW Beetle and go on expeditions to loughs in Monaghan and Westmeath to spin for pike.

Caroline also mentions the roller skating in the Old Nurseries. As a summer visitor she never had the fun of ice skating on the “lake”.