I had never heard of Nenagh before I made the decision to travel to Ireland. And, probably never would have had I not found the Half Door Writer’s Cottage via a google search of “Writer retreats in Ireland”. But, after reading about Country Choice, a quaint store nestled on its main street and watching a delightful video depicting a day in the life of its owner, Peter Ward, my interest was piqued. Peter, alongside his wife Mary, has cherished and nurtured this establishment for almost three decades.

As a culinary enthusiast with a penchant for unique food experiences, imagine my disappointment when I realized that the store was closed on the very day I first visited Nenagh.

Determined, I prioritized Country Choice during my next visit, placing it even before Nenagh Castle and Prison on my itinerary.

On a wet morning, undeterred by rain-slicked roads, and unflinchingly passing speeding lorries on narrow lanes, I arrived at Country Choice. I was welcomed by an appetizing spread of vegetarian quiche complemented by three diverse salads. Over this delightful meal, Peter shared tales of the store’s in-house jams, locally-sourced cheeses, meats, fruits, and vegetables.

“What’s on the menu?” Peter chuckled. “That’s a mystery until our suppliers walk through the door, much like our guests.”

The ambiance was homey and warm. Peter boasted of their collection of fruits, vegetables, jams, and what he claims to be the world’s best chocolate.

During our chat, he curiously asked if I’d been born in Ireland before moving away.

“No,” I responded. “But my father was.”

“What was his name?”

On hearing my surname, “Gallagher,” which I self-consciously pronounced with a soft ‘g’ as native Irish would, he nodded his head sagely and say, “Aye. From Donegal. “Do you know Bridie Gallagher?”

“No,” I replied innocently. “But I don’t know anyone in Ireland.”

He gives his big warm smile and hearty laugh and tells me it would be unlikely I did. She passed many years ago. “But, she’s a fine Irish singer and has a song about Donegal you must hear.”

And he races off to the cash desk, grabs a piece of paper and writes down her name. “Find her on your music app and have a listen,” he says as I’m settling up. “You’ll be amazed.”

Ireland is a land of beauty, mystery and magic. Magic because… here’s the funny thing. My father was a huge music collector. Growing up, he accumulated over 2,000 LPs of music from all over the world. They lined the shelves of the big wooden ‘shrank’ which was the German word for the shelving unit that graced the entire wall of our living room in Germany. The entire collection was in alphabetical order by artist, cross-referenced to genre and country and woe the one who put an album back in its wrong place. Remember, this was in the days before personal computers. He’d type out his list on his manual Remington typewriter, retyping an entire page when a new LP was added.

I was constantly in awe of his commitment and the dexterity of his big index fingers pounding away at the keys, creating their own special music.

Listening to Bridie sing The Heart of Donegal on my way back to the cottage took me back to my father’s love of everything Irish. I’m sure, if I scour my memory banks long enough, I’ll discover threads of Bridie’s voice woven through the hallways of my mind with my father’s voice calling out, “Listen to this!”

As I drove along with her voice and memories of my father’s Irish roots playing a love song through its music, I carried with me several choice Ward’s Kitchen jams and preserves that will travel back with me to Canada. I didn’t. However, carry memories of Nenagh Castle.

Despite Google Maps best intentions, I still managed to lose my way.

With the rain pouring down and the challenges of navigating through the narrow streets lined with pedestrians and cars zipping around corners all while trying to read tiny, obscure, road signs posted at varying heights and unexpected places on each corner, I got flustered.

After three attempts to find the right turn to get to the castle – Did I mention it’s very big and visible? Somehow, however, with the mix of one way streets, traffic and rain still pouring down, I lost my nerve. When I found myself on a road leading out of town, I kept taking it until I found myself on what I knew to be my lane to the cottage.

The castle has witnessed over 1400 years. It certainly can wait another day.