Love, the Sea and the Irish Shore

Valentine’s Day is a strange one here in Ireland. We’re certainly not the most openly romantic bunch. We’re far more likely to say “ah get away outta that” than declare our love outright — and yet somehow we’ve produced some of the greatest poets the world has ever known.

There’s no doubt our rugged landscapes, old legends and broken hearts have played their part in this, but if you dig a little deeper, we are a romantic people at heart. We just show it differently.

This morning my big, burly Eli brought myself and the girls breakfast in bed, along with the sweetest poem he’d written late last night in the workshop. I’ll take that any day over roses and chocolates.

I don’t write here as often as I’d like, but given the day that’s in it — and with a friend currently delayed somewhere between the skies and Kerry Airport — it feels like a good moment to share a few of my favourite love stories and traditions from these parts.

One of my favourites is Bachelor’s Day. It’s an old Irish tradition that allows women to propose to men on the 29th of February, a date that only comes around once every four years. The story goes back to the 5th century, when Saint Brigid went to Saint Patrick and complained that men were taking far too long to propose. She asked that women be given the same right. I’m not entirely sure how true that is — but never let facts get in the way of a good story.

By the 1800s, Bachelor’s Day was well established, and in some places women could propose for the entire leap year. If a proposal was unfortunately rejected, compensation was expected — gloves, silk gowns or even a fur coat. A fair system, if you ask me.

I heard a woman speaking to Tommy Tiernan recently about Brehon Law, and it stopped me in my tracks. Couples could marry for a year and a day, and only after that time decide whether they wished to stay together. If they chose to part, they could do so without shame. A woman could also divorce her husband if he changed dramatically after marriage — though, interestingly, that one didn’t seem to work quite as evenly the other way around.

Then there’s the Claddagh ring — a symbol of love recognised all over the world. Worn as a promise, often passed down through generations. My mum gave me my first Claddagh ring for my Holy Communion, a small gold one she had scrimped and saved hard for. It was my first real piece of jewellery, and I treasured it. I still have it, and one day it will be my little girl’s.

Not far from here lies Cape Clear Island, home to the Marriage Stones — Galláin an Chomalaín. For centuries, lovers have travelled there to pledge themselves to one another. One stone, pierced with a small circular hole, is known as the engagement and wedding stone. In times when there were no rings or jewellers on the island, couples would pass their hands through the hole, binding their promises. Joining hands was enough. I’ve always thought it would be the most extraordinary place to be married — imagine all the spirits gathered there, quietly wishing you well.

When you walk our shores each day, you can almost hear the whispers of everything that has happened here — love, loss, longing, adventure. This is not an easy landscape. Even photographs fail to capture it properly. It carries deep pain and deep beauty in equal measure.

So many of my ancestors left from these shores, setting off for unknown lands in search of a better life, always hoping — even quietly — that they might one day return. Fishermen heading out before dawn. Soldiers leaving home. Travellers setting their course. Even now, Eli heads off to Whiddy Island every morning for his day’s work.

In many ways, WASI grew from all of this. From the sea that has always given and taken in equal measure. From the quiet knowledge passed down through generations. And perhaps, without ever quite planning it that way, our products have become a small bridge back to these shores — for those who have left Ireland, and for those whose hearts never really did.

A familiar scent. A moment of stillness. A reminder of home.

Happy Valentine’s Day — wherever you find yourself today.