Welcome to Aughrafinigan

Welcome to my corner of Roscommon.

I live in the house that the McMasters built – the father, Abraham – was a builder. Times were hard in the late 1800s, so he kept every blasted thing he took away from his building sites – not one of the original windows matched. Stick a spade in – anywhere – and up pops rotted, destroyed detritus. I have a box of letters. Many asking him to look at a job in some local church or other. All Church of Ireland mind you – they were a Protestant family.

I know they attended the local Church of Ireland in the townland of Aughrafinigan, a short walk down the Stirabout Road and along the New Line. All those letters I have are addressed to the McMasters in Aughrafinigan (or Arghrafinigan). Not where the house is, mind you, it should be Cleragh. I guess that’s how they pulled the shawl of their religion up around their house.

Their parish church is a house now, but I’m happy to keep the connection. It required several arguments with the postmaster in Boyle – not a shred of poetry in the man. ‘Crazy American’ was on his lips a few times I’m sure.

So my house is in the townland of Finnegan’s Field not far from Corrigeenroe – Little Red Rock.