Looking for a Redhead

We watched as the Irish coastline drew near.

This was to be the first visit since our honeymoon.

But this time we had 4 children with us, who were to meet their Irish Grandmother for the first time.  It was to be an active holiday.  As a family, we would go out each day to show the children as much of Ireland as we could. We had two cars loaded with my children and their cousins.   We visited Killarney and cantered through the gap of Dunloe, past the lake where a lovelorn maiden was said to drown herself.

My pony tossed me to the ground.  It was only my dignity hurt.  My understanding Mother-in-law sat me down with a reviving drink.

Then homewards through hedges of pink and red fuchsias growing wild in the hedgerows.  The children grumbled with hunger. All the cafes were closed.  Time to head for home.  A small cottage caught our attention.  Food served. The Mother and Daughter were about to close up, but on seeing hungry children, and adults,  opened up again and offered us baked beans and toast.  Never had a meal tasted so good.

My youngest son is a redhead,  so we had decided to try to trace any other family members with similar hair colouring.  So off we went to a Hill Farm in the Irish hills. this was to see a relative of my Mother-in -Laws’

Her name was Foxy Ella.    It was to be a bleak, cold house to match a bleak cold day.  We found Foxy Ella just coming in from the fields.   No longer a redhead, but a grey, tired woman, whose only purpose in life was to keep the land going.  The grate was cold,  no kettle on the boil for a cheering cup of tea.  My poor Mother-in-Law was mortified by the lack of Irish hospitality.

We did not find anyone to match our son’s red hair, but an enjoyable time was had by us all.  That was to be the last time our children were to see their Irish Granny.  A holiday to treasure.

When we arrived back home in Hampshire a letter was waiting for us.  Asking had we a redhead in the family. The letter was from relatives in Canada.

M.P. Parnell.