Today is a day for the history books in Ireland. Official postal codes are being introduced throughout the Republic of Ireland.
What? A country without postal codes?
Until today, Ireland was a numberless country, toying with global logistics gurus throughout the world, by using personalized addresses with mysterious locations known only by the local postman, or woman (we’re talking about Ireland, so I’ll stick with postman. No need to get all politically correct).
Anyone who has ever mailed a letter to Ireland will understand how simple our addresses were in days gone by, like just yesterday.
The End Of An Era:
And to be honest, I feel a little sad.
This is the end of an era – the end of our personalized addresses with no numbers, unless of course you lived in Dublin. Then you had a very complicated postal code such as “1” .
Non-Irish people are always amazed at how our letters arrive on time despite our uncomplicated addresses. I have often been asked for a postal code when mailing a letter or a parcel home to Ireland. But trust me, Irish mail gets delivered.
The Irish Postman:
And the answer to Ireland’s postal distribution system is every community’s local hero, the postman, whose intricate knowledge of the lay of the land was, and still is, up to every delivery task.
No matter how far off the beaten path a home may stand, nor how challenging the phenomenon of last name clustering may be in a locality, the Irish postman is the savior of the day.
Now you may wonder how can one poor postman be expected to know everyone’s name and where they live?
Well, that’s the beauty of Ireland. Our postmen know everything … who you are, where you live, who your father’s father was, who’s engaged to who, who’s having a baby, whose going on holidays, you know, they simply know everything ….
But I suppose all the trouble started with online ordering and non-postal company deliveries. Ireland is a first world country after all, and instructions for the postman such as …
“Throw that box into the shed for me, and I’ll get it later” …
just won’t cut it anymore. The postman could always phone you if you weren’t home, to get instructions like …
“Just leave it in the pub for me,
‘cos I’m way up the fields pulling a new calf.”
Official global delivery men from the next big town over, have no idea where to go or who to ask for when delivering the latest gadget ordered on the internet.
These poor non-locals frequently go astray trying to find addresses for towns with funny names like Tuam and Maam in County Galway, or Inch and Newtwopothouse in County Cork.
And don’t get me started on townlands, which are small districts with origins in the ancient Gaelic system for land division.
Believe me, some have very strange names like …. Muckanagherderdauhaulia, County Galway, or Crazy Corner, County Westmeath or Heavenstown and Bastardstown, County Wexford.
And so, you can understand why these out-of-town delivery men are languishing in a non-postcode haze.
Irish Directions:
So why can’t they just stop someone and ask for directions?
Anyone who has ever been to Ireland knows how good Irish people are at giving directions.
Irish people LOVE to give directions. We’re experts at it …..
“You just go over that hill there, and round the sharp bend,
and you’ll find that house before the next bend.”
or perhaps you’ve heard something like this on a trip to Ireland …
“It’s right beside Johnny the Smith’s.
He’s dead, but they’re still there.”
(And Smith does not refer to the family’s last name, just the fact they used to be blacksmiths in days gone by, or centuries ago. But sure, you’d know that if you were the postman.)
And wait. I have more examples of crazy Irish instructions for finding a place of residence.
“Go left at the big tree, then up the bog road.”
(Now how does a blow-in know how big a “big tree” might be in your neck of the woods. Or what on earth a bog road looks like? Ah, but sure the postman knows all the trees, and all the bog roads ….)
“Go beyond the cross,
keep going straight till you come to Timmy Ryan’s house.
Then, it’s the one beside the Ryans.”
(And who knows all the Ryans in County Tipperary??? You’ve got it …. the postman).
Have you ever heard incomprehensible directions like these uttered from the lips of an Irish person???
“Go way on out that road there in front of you,
and turn up left where the phone box used to be.”
And in Donegal they’re always talking about the “brae”, which is a steep slope or hillside, a term borrowed from our Scottish neighbors.
“Head up the brae.
If you come to the second brae, you’ve gone too far.
Turn back and it’s the house with the cross dog.”
(Now that doesn’t mean the dog is a mutt, but is probably a border collie with a testy temperament. Ah but sure, the postman knows that. He knows all the dogs, even the cranky ones.)
“Take the crossroads,
then after the bridge take your first left,
then next left, then first right, then next right,
then pass the convent, and it’s the fifth house on the right side
with the bright green door.”
Now if the route to your destination is that complicated you might get even further offers of assistance. Your helpful Irish guide might even give you his or her phone number to help out.
“Ring me at the crossroads and I’ll talk you through it from there.”
(Now “ringing” someone is phoning them, and has nothing to do with a date, and rings, or anything like that ….. ).
Well I suppose the crazy Irish system of local postman knowledge had to grind to a halt some day. I wonder if all the townlands will be forgotten.
The days of the postman having his daily cuppa at 11 with Brigid who bakes those lovely scones, may come to a sudden end …..
But wait all is not lost. Change will not come to Ireland so soon. On checking out the official Eircode website I discovered ….
“Eircodes are not mandatory.”
Whew! We’re doing this thing Irish style. No need to comply. No need to learn new numbers for my letters home.
Like many new systems in Ireland, postal codes will be introduced on an as-you-like-it basis.
Ireland may be spending millions on a new “system” but in true Irish fashion we won’t bother compelling anyone to use it. You’ve just got to love Ireland!
Now you wouldn’t want to go upsetting anyone, would you? Especially the postman …….
Slán agus beannacht,
(Goodbye and blessings)
Irish American Mom
Here are some other ramblings and recipes about all things Irish and Irish American, which you might enjoy.
Never Let The Truth Get In The Way Of A Good Story
So funny about the directions Mairead, because it’s true! 🙂
Ah, mail will never look the same inIreland now. Well, at least not until it is mandatory!
Are there area codes for phones in Ireland? Phone numbers seemed to be strange to me, just a running bunch of numbers, no breaks, no parentheses, no hyphens.
Hi Patricia – Irish phone numbers are a little strange. Over the past ten years numbers phone numbers have been changed to be in accordance with European guidelines. Old area codes are wrapped into the seven digit numbers, but in some parts of the country some homes still have a five digit number. It’s all very confusing. I still forget to add an 8 at the beginning of our old house number in Dublin – old habits die hard.
All the best,
Mairéad
Brilliant article, Mairéad. The perfect line was ““Ring me at the crossroads and I’ll talk you through it from there.” It’s only too true; the Irish are just that helpful, as I’ve discovered to my own astonishment. You made me laugh and laugh. It reminded me of the poignant yet hilarious book, McCarthy’s Bar, by Pete McCarthy.
Sara
Hi Sara – Glad to hear you enjoyed this rambling postal code blog post highlighting some typically Irish directions. I haven’t read the book “McCarthy’s Bar”. I’ll have to add it to my reading list. Thanks for the recommendation.
Best wishes,
Mairéad
Any time I read a new post concerning everyday life in Ireland I realize with happy surprise how much similar the Irish are to Italians! I’m Italian and when I visited Ireland I thought I was going to visit a country of “British” culture… and I found out that the Irish are more similar to us than to their British neighbours 😀
Hi Claudia – The Irish are definitely far more similar to Italians than to the British – perhaps that’s why we didn’t see eye to eye for hundreds of years. Winston Churchill summed it up when he said – “We have always found the Irish a bit odd. They refuse to be English”. Thanks so much for checking out my new posts.
Best wishes,
Mairéad
Congratulations for your blog: I love being kept posted on Irish themes!!! Thank you!
And thanks to you, Claudia for reading my ramblings.
Ah, IAM, too sad but funny also…esp. the “leave it in the pub. I’m up in the field pulling a calf.” We Yanks have scribbled zip codes for decades. But the five digit code was just not enough. Four more digits came along. One of these days our zip codes will be as long as computing Pi, complete with decimal point. I find it strange the mail posted to our hometown must first be trucked to a clearing station twenty miles away before it can reverse itself and come “back home.”
Years ago, before our mail was numbered, I received a postcard from a friend who knew where I lived but not my address. Printed on the envelope below my name was this address: “a mile south of town, brown house with blue pickup in the driveway.” Today that card would languish in the “dead letter” file or be returned “postal” haste to the sender. I guess the encumbrance of zip codes is just one of the benefits of being a “first world country.” Thanks for the enjoyable, lighthearted post. TMJ
Hi T.M. – I love how your friend’s postcard found you with his most descriptive address. Alack and alas, your card would definitely be lost in today’s automated world. I think a similar address would still work in Ireland, but only time will tell with the introduction of new postal codes.
Glad you enjoyed this little ramble about postal codes, and the skills of Irish direction givers.
I hope you are having a good summer in the Northwest. We are soaked here in Kentucky – more rain than Ireland.
All the best,
Mairéad
Hi Mairead, the organizers of this world will have a tough time cataloging the Irish countryside, to put it in a Mainism (as in from the state of Maine) ” You can’t get there, from here.
Cheers,
Brian.
Hi Brian – “You can’t get there, from here,” is a great expression and even though it may be a Mainism, it sounds like a line you would definitely hear uttered in Ireland. Hope your summer is going well and not too wet in the Northeast.
Best wishes,
Mairéad
Hi Mairead! I am still laughing at the directions. I am guilty of the same!
Our priest from New Jersey went to Ireland with his sister who was a nun, and asked for driving directions in a remote part of Roscommon area, and try as he might, the farmer could not get them to understand, so he jumped into the car and went half the way with them!! True story. A real “You can’t get there from here,” story. Loved the post.
Mauren
Hi Maureen – Love your story of Irish direction giving – many an Irish man and woman has hopped into a tourist’s car to help find a place. Between accents, and unusual word choices, Irish directions often sound like a foreign language.
Thanks so much for stopping by,
All the best,
Mairéad
Hi Mairead – Oh what a great chuckle I have had since reading your charming blog. Having been a recipient of such directions, it really resonated with me. One time we stopped at a pub for directions to my great grandmother’s house when the owner suggested we take a half snockered patron since he lived in the area and needed a ride home. The patron managed to stay awake long enough to lead us to our destination and finally to his home. We still do not know what his family thought when strangers deposited their Da at the front door.
Hi Kathleen – You’ve added yet another great story about Irish direction giving. I wouldn’t be in the least bit surprised if your direction giver arrived home in a different car every night he was out at the pub. Could you imagine taking a half-sozzled man home from the pub here in America? But in Ireland, it just seems like a very natural and ordinary thing to do.
Take care and thanks for adding to our little discussion.
Mairéad
My father’s first cousins were Connemara people but when I met them in their later years they lived in Fairhill, Claddagh, Galway City. I would stay with them every year and calligraphed a scrap of cardboard with the name of their house to replace the scrap that had been there as their “address”. Their house was a couple hundred years old, having once been a Coast Guard station, and the kitchen was entered directly from the path outside. Every day, Tom the Postman would push his bicycle through the door and sit down at the table for his tea & bread, sharing the news while sorting the mail. Those cousins, the house in the Claddagh, and probably Tom the Postman, are all gone now but this is one of my most precious memories of Ireland.
Hi Alicia – Thank you so much for sharing your beautiful memory of Ireland from days gone by. Tea with the post man was such a daily ritual in many Irish homes. I love how you describe Tom, the Claddagh post man, pushing his bike into the kitchen for his mid-morning cuppa and a chat. Those were simpler times with beautiful shared rituals that strengthened communities and friendships. Glad you got to experience that little slice of Irish life.
Thanks again for stopping by.
All the best,
Mairéad