My friend Cathy announced that she was going to contribute to me gaining some new experiences to help me discover what lay outside my present sphere of activity.  A woman of her word, she collected me last Saturday morning to attend a viewing of the contents of the country home of the late Sally Walker who, along with her husband, had been devoted to the development, care and running of their 40-acre gardens, Fernhill, in the foothills of the Dublin Mountains.  This is practically on my doorstep.  I didn’t have too far to go to step into a new world.

I had never been to either a viewing or an auction and had no idea what to expect.  Cathy was interested in a quantity of linen and lace to put to use in her 500-year-old, lovingly-restored Castle on the edge of The Burren. I was a timid observer.  As we walked around the rooms I met many people I knew, not locals, but customers from that well-known, Dublin 4 food shop, most of whom had difficulty recognising me out of mufti.

Despite many familiar faces, it took me a while to find a comfort zone, other than outside in the beautiful, naturalistic setting of the gardens with the tiniest glimpse of Dublin Bay shimmering on the horizon. And then I spied them, a pair of gilt metal and turquoise glass candlesticks hung with cut-glass drops.  I was immediately transported back to the parlour of my great-grandmother’s home in Co Armagh, the contents of which were kept under lock and key by one of my uncles who lived there on his own when I was a small child.  Each time I visited him, I would sit at his kitchen table chatting while he finished his mug of tea, home-baked bread, country butter and damson jam, after which I would request a visit to the treasure trove of antiques in the parlour.  The shutters would be folded back carefully, giving him an opportunity to open a window and air the stuffy room.  As soon as a slight breeze came through, I would hear the tinkling of the lustres on two tall vases which were placed close to the window.  It was a tender memory for me, and I just had to run my fingers gently through the lustres on Sally Walker’s candlesticks to hear that delicate sound again. Having made this connection, I experienced a feeling of sadness seeing this lady’s personal choices for her lovely home, on view to the nation, to be auctioned off and scattered the length and breadth of Ireland, and perhaps further afield, like seeds dispersed by the wind to another resting place.  But what to do when one’s affairs need to be tidied up to allow remaining family to get on with their own lives, as has happened time and again in my own family.  On reflection, I think the sadness is to do with a feeling of disconnection from my own family of origin, perhaps to be remedied in the near future now that I have more time and energy for travel.

I went to the Auction on Monday on Cathy’s behalf, ready to bid for her selected items.  Initially, I was terrified, but soon got the hang of what to do. Light-hearted banter between the auctioneer and some of his well-known clients eased my fears for my maiden voyage.  There was certainly no recession in South County Dublin on that day as many items soared past their suggested value.  Dealers came and went, knowing exactly what they were looking for, late arrivals had to be content with standing in the driveway following their catalogues and listening to the proceedings via loudspeakers. Dark clouds and heavy showers gave way to bright sunshine as newcomers were being directed to nearby fields which were opened up to accommodate the overflow.  It was going to be a long day in the country without a picnic. I plucked up the courage to leave some bids and headed home for lunch.

I may not have come home with anything to grace Cathy’s Castle, but I did return with a firm link to a special place in my heart. I am now happy to embrace future adventures in the spirit of childlike wonder.  Meanwhile, I remain firmly rooted in the present, like the pink roses and the Scots pines which had silently absorbed the bidding knowing that Sally Walker’s lifelong passion for nature and the countryside will last forever in her generous gift of the provision of an abundant habitat for the essential work of the earthworms, bees, butterflies and birds for whom there will always be a home at Fernhill.