For those of you saying ‘Are we nearly there yet?’, not too long to go now, we should make it in six more episodes after this one.

This was a day of continual heavy rain, interspersed with intervals of torrential downpours. In poor visibility, we headed for Killarney and although it wasn’t our original plan, decided to begin the day indoors, in the hope that the weather might improve. Spoiler alert – it didn’t. Killarney is noted for its horse and cart trips. These are known as jaunting cars and as we drove up to our destination, Muckross House, we accidentally ended up at the jaunting car entrance instead of that for regular cars. We manage to end up where we needed to be and were pleased to see that this wasn’t quite so overrun with tourists as some other places we’ve been.

The Herbert family settled at Muckross in the early 1700s. In 1837, Henry Arthur Herbert married May Balfour, who he met whilst on his Grand Tour and they commissioned Muckross House, which was completed in 1843. Henry became an MP and they entertained Queen Victoria at Muckross in 1861. The estate was heavily mortgaged and was let for hunting and fishing. There was certainly a preponderance of dead animals on display, including the ubiquitous 10,000 year old Irish Elk antlers. The estate was sold firstly to a member of the Guinness family and then to the Bourn family, before being given to the nation in 1932; it became Ireland’s first National Park.

I particularly wanted to see the traditional Irish farms, which were adjacent to Muckross House. Had we followed the route I tried to persuade the satnav to take us, we would have arrived here on time for them opening at 1pm, having circled Killarney National Park first. Clearly the satnav though only a lunatic would want to climb narrow mountainous paths in driving rain so we ended up in Muckross rather earlier than intended. Having exhausted the craft shops and resisted the temptation to buy stuff we didn’t need, the only remaining indoor option was the café, remarkable for its amazing selection of cakes. We made our refreshments last as long as possible then I swapped my not actually as waterproof as all that shoes for wellies and we took a quick and very damp tour round the grounds.

Next, an equally damp but worthwhile visit to Irish Traditional Farms, depicting a small, medium and large farmhouse from the area, as they would have been in the 1930s, although the actual buildings were older. There were people in the buildings to tell us their history and each farm was equipped with livestock. There was also a working blacksmith, who demonstrated his craft with incredible skill.

Having completed our tour, we debated whether to go straight back to the van or to go via the scenic route. Given the weather, there would be precious little scenery visible, so we decided to call it a day and head for home. Ironically, when I was first planning this trip in 2019, thinking it might be in 2020, when clearly it didn’t happen and when I was revising the plans for this year, I was reassured that the only family history that might be involved was the visit to Ballyedmond. It wasn’t until this point in the holiday that I remembered that some of my grandchildren were 1/16th Irish. To be fair, I don’t think I knew this in 2019. Arggh. What ancestral locations had I missed? A quick rush to the research notes. It turns out that all I know is ‘Ireland’. A bit more work and my strong suspicion is Tipperary. I will have to leave the ancestral photography to them if they ever visit.