The Field

The Field…well, it’s actually more of a site with a derelict cottage on it, but more on that later.

When it all started is up for debate, but it first came into our awareness while we were sitting beside a fire under the crisp and starry Tasmanian sky, huddled in conversation with one of our Workaway hosts. He remarked that his father had a plot of land in Leitrim that he had bought 25 years ago and was thinking of selling someday, “you guys should check it out”. The mental seed was planted and we started to envision an alternative future for ourselves. Before we could follow up with the idea in earnest, we first had to answer a few questions:
How much would it cost?

What is involved in a stone cottage restoration?
What about planning permission?

Could we afford it?
The weather?
Where is Leitrim?

We were quickly back on the road. We were still “free” so to speak but for the first time on our trip it started to feel like we had a destination, a place that we were actually aiming for. Throughout our time in SE Asia, we continued to mull it over and strategize, reading up on planning regulations and poring over maps of northwest Leitrim. Our bodies were far away, but as we started to make progress in answering our questions, our minds spent more and more time on 3.5 acres of damp wooded land on the west coast of Ireland.

When we landed back in Europe, we pointed our bikes in the direction of the island of Jersey, to meet a man about an abandoned cottage. It was a quick ferry ride from France to Jersey. When we disembarked, we were briefly caught off guard to find that the cars were on the other side of the road here. I guess we were somehow surprised that we were in a different country. Our surprise turned to disgust when we went to buy some bread for breakfast. If the change in currency and language did not signal it, the desperate state of the bread really put an exclamation mark on it, despite being just 25km off its coast WE WERE NO LONGER IN FRANCE!

In less than an hour we cycled the width of the island to our accommodation, and then onward to a cozy little pub to meet our man. A jovial chat next to a fire ensued, we were given maps and plans associated with the land and were steeped in its lore. After a delightful few drinks with the owner, we staggered back to our accommodation and prepared ourselves for the ferry from the Crown Dependency of Jersey to the actual U.K.

Then we zipped across the south coast of the UK from Portsmouth to Brighton and from there onward to some of Alina’s family in Eastbourne and the chalk cliffs of Beachy Head. Then it was a train to London, another train to a birthday party, another ferry to Ireland, and yet another train from Dublin to Sligo. We met many friends along the way, and for the first time we openly spoke of our intention to move to a Field in Leitrim.

As we closed in on the Field in Leitrim, we were given a timely reminder of the challenges that would be before us. Our first night camping on the west coast of Ireland was far from comfortable. A failing air mattress and horizontal rain assaulting our tent might have been enough to dampen our spirits and our socks, but our resolve held strong and we pressed on cycling around the impressive Ben Bulbin and onward to cast eyes on the Field for the first time.

We pedaled closer and closer to our destination, and the sense of occasion started to build in us. The sheep politely nodded to us from behind their stone walls, the sun occasionally poked its nose out to see how we were doing, and the Atlantic Ocean watched us from afar as we meandered through the narrow country lanes on the final stretch.

There was something poetic about meeting someone on an island on the other side of the world, then meeting his father on another island, and then travelling to yet another island to view a potential future home. We didn’t fully understand it, but we acknowledged the improbability of it all and took it as a good omen.

That sense of luck only got stronger as we explored the overgrown Field to find no fewer than three streams flowing through the site, a variety of native trees and an untold amount of mushrooms sprouting from the fallen tree branches. After a little bit of orienteering our way through the trees and over streams, we came across the stone cottage that has been standing there for over 300 years. It was barely hanging onto its roof, in the same way that a balding man clings to his hair. It was technically there but it was not really contributing to anything positive. The inside of the cottage was damp and there were trees poking out of the walls, the floor was covered in mud, broken furniture and a collapsed second-storey floor. She had seen better days, but her thick stone walls were as firm and proud as the day they were first laid decades before the Great Famine.

Anyone could see that there was a lifetime of work to be done there, but our rose-tinted glasses also allowed us to see the potential in this marvelous little cottage and its surrounding land.

Soon after our visit, we were back in Galway and staying with Conor’s family. From there, we struck a deal with the vendor and got ourselves a lawyer to help us get the deal over the line. So the Field would be ours and we could start our new lives as naive cottage dwelling hippies in one of the wettest parts of Europe. While contracts were being drawn up and we could not do much more than wait, we closed the loop by finally heading back to Barcelona to reunite with our friends for the holiday season. 

Over the Christmas period things moved slowly (ourselves included), but in January we had to get a move on–literally. It was time to take the big leap of faith and move all our belongings to Ireland, to Conor’s family home to be precise. A symbolic act, that meant our years of living in Barcelona officially had come to an end and we were now fully committing to Ireland. 

It was not until late January before the legal wheels started to turn again. Time to visit the Field again and get it surveyed by an engineer to make sure that the land registry maps and the reality on the ground matched up. We were content walking the perimeter of the Field with the engineer when it happened – we met our one and only neighbor – or at least, the man we would later come to think of as the Bull.

Prior to meeting the neighbor we were aware that he was using a very small section of the Field to access his land more directly from the road rather than passing over his own land. So we had hypothesized that he might be very content with the derelict status of the Field and might not have much need for new neighbors. As we stood at the boundary where both of our lands intersected, we spotted a black van that was making the comically short distance from his driveway to our location. We were determined to get off on the right foot with the neighbor so as he approached we both smiled, big toothy smiles that would disarm even the most cantankerous of people, and if the force of our charming personalities and glinting smiles was not enough, we even had a jar of Connemara’s finest honey in our back pocket to help lubricate our new friendship.

The van pulled right up to us and the window came down. Behind it sat a man in his mid to late 40s. He was yet to smile at us, but that was ok because we were doing enough smiling for everyone. “Hello,” we declared with a tremendous amount of unwavering hospitality. He replied by saying “This is my land. I am taking this over,” undeterred by his baffling answer, we introduced ourselves and extended our hands for a friendly neighborly handshake. It was ignored, he then stepped out of the van and further went on to attempt to explain that he was in fact the owner of the land that we intended to buy. This confused us greatly because every fact that we were aware of did not correlate with what he was claiming. The “conversation” continued with claims of “legal stays” and rights of way being thrown around. Every attempt to find common ground and understanding was avoided and we began to realise that this was not a conventional conversation. In short the neighbor(a.k.a The Bull) was attempting to push the boundaries of his land so that he could prevent the sale of the Field and force the vendor into a situation where he was unable to sell it to anyone but him. This made us a threat to his plan so he felt the need to intimidate us from moving in, just like a bad episode of Scooby-Doo.

After he had run out of things to say he took off in his van and left us with the warning, “you can buy it all you like, but you are buying trouble. I am going to make it impossible to sell”. Still in shock we went through the motions of walking the remainder of the boundary and slumped back in the car. When we stopped for lunch we tried to process what just happened. Alina in all her wisdom managed to get a voice recording of the incident and we listened back to it. To quote a few choice lines:
“I am taking this place over”
“You don’t know what you are getting yourself in for”
“I am going to raise every issue I can”

“If you are buying this you are buying trouble”
“The problem is you are going to be living there, and I am going to be living here, I am going to make it very hard”

After we had digested our lunch and what had just happened, we decided that there was absolutely no way that we could live next to that cretin. Our plan lay in shatters and our joy and excitement had turned to ashes in our mouths. We were back to square one, all we could do now was to wallow and lick our wounds.

Missing out on a potential place to call home is a fairly hurtful and disappointing experience. However, it is also a relatively common one that most house hunters must overcome on their journey. That being said, to have it ripped out of our hands in such an unjustifiable manner was particularly agonising.

We are now back on the proverbial horse and looking for other options, trying not to let our previous experience leave us overly jaded or cynical about future housing prospects. If anything, this failed endeavor has given us an idea of what we might like and of where we might like to be, which for now is Ireland. With this new outlook on things, it is time for us to grab the bull by the horns, take our lessons forward with us and push on with our search.