House — 18th/19th century in An Blascaod Mór

This is the home of Tomás Ó Criomhthain (1856–1937) the renowned Blasket native who wrote two books, 'Allagar na h-Inise' (Island Cross-Talk) written over the period 1918–23 and published in 1928, and 'An t-Oileánach' (The Islandman), completed in 1923 and published in 1929. The following text is taken from the first page of 'An t-Oileánach' translated into the English by Robin Flower: 'I was born on St. Thomas's day in the year 1856. I can recall being at my mother's breast, for I was four years old before I was weaned. I am 'the scrapings of the pot', the last of the litter. That's why I was left so long at the breasts. I was a spoilt child, too. Four sisters I had, and every one of them putting her own titbit into my mouth. They treated me like a young bird in the nest. Maura Donel, Kate Donel, Eileen Donel, and Nora Donel - those were their names. My brother was Pats Donel, and I am Tomás Donel. Maura is living still in this Island, two of them are still alive in America, and Pats isn't dead yet. Kate died after drawing the old-age pension for three months. That was the whole bunch of us. They were all grown when I was a baby, so that it was little wonder that I was spoilt among them all. Nobody expected me at all when I came their way. My father was a middle-sized man, stout and strong. My mother was a flourishing woman, as tall as a peeler, strong, vigorous, and lively, with bright, shining hair. But when I was at the breast there was little strength in her milk, and besides that I was 'an old cows calf', not easy to rear. For all that, the rascal death carried off many a fine young ruffian and left me to the last. I suppose he didn't think it worth his while to shift me. I was growing stronger all the time and going my own way wherever I wanted, only that they kept an eye on me to see that I didn't go by the sea. I wore a petticoat of undressed wool, and a knitted cap. And the food I got was hens' eggs, lumps of butter, and bits of fish, limpets, and winkles - a bit of everything going from sea or land. We live in a cramped little house, roofed with rushes from the hill. Often the hens would nest in the thatch and lay a dozen eggs there. We had a post bed in the corner, and two beds at the bottom of the house. There used to be two cows in the house, the hens and their eggs, an ass, and the rest of us. Our house was reversed: that is, its door faced north - all the others were turned to the south . . . ." Compiled by: Matt Kelleher Updated by: Paul Walsh Revised date of upload: 15 July 2015