“Cnocán Ambróis Beag,” an old farmer once told me, “that’s what we call this place in Irish.” He pointed a gnarled finger towards the fields, towards Mountambrose Little. “Means ‘Little Mount Ambrose’. Why they called it that? Well, there’s a story there, see…” Mountambrose Little. A small name for a small patch of land. But don’t let that fool you. This little townland holds a history as vast as the Irish sky. The name itself is a bit of a puzzle. “Little” suggests there’s a bigger Mountambrose somewhere. And you know what? He was right! There is! Just a stone’s throw from here. Mountambrose Little, despite its size, was once a bustling hub of activity. Imagine sturdy farmhouses, built to withstand the temperamental Irish weather. One such house still stands today, a testament to the enduring spirit of this land. Built sometime between 1840 and 1880, its six bays and two stories have seen generations come and go. The rough-cast rendered walls whisper tales of long days spent tilling the land, of laughter echoing from within, and of a time when Mountambrose Little played its own small, but vital, part in the story of Dublin.
Центральный дом работников искусств
Step through the grand wooden doors of the Central House of the Workers of Art, and you’ll be transported to