The Witches of Dysart are not immune to the usual problems that afflict  most members of the community, as Miss  Agatha’s recent experience shows.

    Miss Agatha hosted a New Year’s Eve party for the coven and their guests in her newly erected log cabin. The coven celebrated in style and with optimism in their hearts, wishing the incoming government well and hoping that  2025 would herald a new dawn for rural dwellers with this change of government. And why a new cabin for Miss Agatha, you ask? Well, that’s what I mean by the the ‘usual problems’ that afflict most communities nowadays. Miss Agatha’s niece Maeve and her little family were evicted from their rented accommodation as the landlord needed the property for his son who came home from Australia with his family. Maeve could find nothing affordable for her family in their area and appealed to her aunt Agatha for assistance. Agatha rose to the occasion, took her savings out of the Credit Union to construct a small cabin for herself in the orchard behind her house and gave her home to her niece, thus saving Maeve and her family from homelessness. Joy was unconfined at that year’s New Year’s Eve party in Agatha’s new cabin. And Miss Agatha lived in a glow of self satisfaction all through the New Year period at having been able to help her niece.

    Maeve’s present to her aunt was to erect a new post box next to the old one on the wall leading up to the cabin and label it ‘Miss Agatha’s post’. Agatha thought it a charming touch and even during the snows of early January she went out with her little key to check for mail each day. She was very surprised to find a letter there from her local Co. Council on that Tuesday morning in January. 

      As a woman who was fairly prompt about paying her bills this was a surprise to her and  she went back into her warm kitchen before opening it, and she gasped in shock when she read its contents. It informed her that she had no right  to erect a cabin on her land and that the Council  was  prosecuting her for this and that the date of her court case was Monday February 3rd, where they were seeking permission to demolish her cabin.

    Her hands shook as she made a cup of tea to try to calm her nerves and she turned on the telly to try and distract herself. “Surely people had some rights on their own land,” she thought, “this isn’t what our ancestors fought and died for.” But try as she might, she couldn’t shake the sense of doom that the letter with the summons to court brought on.  She didn’t know where to turn, she didn’t want to worry her niece and the family. 

      Agatha decided to contact the local county councillor for whom she had canvassed at the local elections the previous summer, she told him her story but to her horror she found him remarkably unhelpful, pleasant but unhelpful. He explained that it was government policy to stop one-off rural housing if possible as it was too expensive to connect to the grid. Even when Agatha explained that she had her own generator, he wasn’t impressed saying that he thought that this contributed to greenhouse gases.

He went on to say that connecting to water mains was also horribly expensive, and dismissed her explanation that she had her own well.

 This prompted him to ask if  she had a licence for her septic tank—-she had,  he then asked if it had been inspected recently— no it hadn’t. He suggested that she would be as well to just dismantle the cabin rather than risk the fines that could ensue from having a septic tank that wasn’t up to current regulatory specifications—- she didn’t know he knew such long words. Her hands shook as she hung up. From the corner of her eye she saw Gerry Murphy from the Meterological Service on the news. She immediately tuned in as the weather service was the only service on RTE she trusted nowadays. 

   So, a severe storm, a life threatening event even, was about to hit the country. Storm Eowyn, a beast the likes of which we haven’t seen in many a long year. Agatha didn’t fear for her cabin as it was in a sheltered location, so she just tied down any loose pots and garden furniture and settled in to await the wind. Well it came, it howled, it moved on and Agatha breathed a sigh of relief when it was over, and went outside to check for any possible damage. Cabin fine, apple trees fine, her own old cottage also fine, no electricity though, this didn’t bother her of course, she just went back inside and lit her little stove, put a kettle on the hob and waited for its cheery whistle to alert her that it was time to make a restorative pot of tea. Before she had time to pour herself a cup, there was a knock on the door—-it was her niece to report that there was no running water!

      Agatha didn’t know that storm damage could knock out treatment plants for running water, but she didn’t question it, she just opened her door and invited in anyone in need of clean cold water from her well, while she kept the stove going for hot drinks for perished people in the neighbourhood who only had air to water pumps for heating in their houses, no stoves and no chimneys. People kept coming on days 2,3,4 and 5. It didn’t look like the ESB was going to be able to reconnect their neighbourhood in under a week. Agatha’s generator was pressed into service to provide hot water for showers, hot food and to recharge devices, for which every mother of young children blessed her as trying to entertain children while the schools were closed was some challenge and the schools were closed because of the lack of heat and water.

     One of the people who called for assistance looked very familiar but Agatha couldn’t place her, wondering if  she had seen her photo in the local paper in connection with something? Anyway she welcomed her and provided whatever assistance she could. At least all this coming and going took her mind off the upcoming court appearance. 

     When the appointed day dawned, Agatha having had a sleepless night, was up early, and having made herself presentable she headed into town for her ten o’clock court appearance. She chose to represent herself and didn’t engage a solicitor for the case. It wasn’t long before someone shouted out “all rise for judge Macay” which she dutifully did and who should walk into the courtroom but the familiar looking woman who had presented herself at her door on four consecutive days looking to avail of her heat, hot water and charge for her phone and laptop. Agatha gave a huge sigh of relief and smiled broadly at the judge, who returned her smile. The case was called.

     The representative of the council presented the councils case for seeking demolition of Agatha’s cabin, It contravened the planning laws and it was irrelevant that it was the only structure in its neighbourhood that was able to provide water, heat, hot food and shelter in the recent extreme weather event as far as the Council was concerned it was against the law and it had to be demolished. Agatha tried to protest that what needed to be demolished was the planning law, not her cabin. Alas, the judge ruled that the law must be upheld regardless for how irrational it was. So she directed Agatha to demolish her cabin or she would be in contempt of court and like Enoch Burke could face a pointless prison sentence.

      Poor Agatha looked aghast and could only mutter  “well, I guess there is truth in the old saying that no good deed ever goes unpunished”

  Judge Macay didn’t even have the grace to blush as she delivered her sentence.