Ruins of my Past and Present

There were few things our father enjoyed more than discovering relics from the past. At a time when progress was all that mattered, he brought us to see the humble reminders that our physical occupation of a place is limited by time.

What we were brought to see was within walking distance or a very short drive by car from home. There were a couple of abandoned mills which no longer ground corn, but had dams with plant-covered walls up which we loved to scramble. There were mill races and mill wheels which no longer turned. These were from the recent past.

Three churches in ruins stand within a couple of miles’ radius of the town. The nearest had a carving in stone of The Crucifixion thought to date from the tenth century. It was built on the site of an ancient monastery. Another stands atop a hill. The third, Killylagh Old Church, is not far from a small loch, on a narrow road leading to the foot of a mountain called Carntogher.

When we climbed the Carn we followed a stony path and our father told us we were on the road used by stage coaches when they travelled between Belfast and Derry. Our town was half way between the two cities and had an inn where travellers could spend the night and where horses could be stabled and fed.

I have a hunch that the road taken by the stage coach followed a more ancient route. Perhaps it is just a coincidence, but close to it are other places we visited. The strangest of these is the Sweat House where people sat around a fire in a cabin before jumping into a well nearby. More mysterious are the earthen ring fort and the dolmen.

Since our father’s death people have come to me looking for information about the things that interested him; and I have found it hard to convince them that I am a different person with my own interests. Now I find my husband is fascinated by local history and I am being pulled back to my youth and the things I saw and was told.

Remembering and uncovering the past is a powerful animal instinct, an important part of the animal survival kit. Cats learn from previous experience, remember where potential prey is to be found, know that a fox or another cat has been visiting by the scent it left. Adapted by human creativity, the instinct shape shifts into a variety of forms. It would not surprise me if the same local history jinn which possessed my father, was alive and well and haunting my husband’s computer room.