A volunteer-led organisation that provides highly trained K9 search and rescue teams to assist in missing person searches across Ireland is looking for new members.

A relatively new K9 search and rescue organisation, Ireland’s Specialist Search and Rescue Dogs (ISSARD) is is working to develop dogs across the disciplines of mantrailing, airscent, and cadaver, with a special focus on low-land and urban searches.

Working alongside tasking agencies like An Garda Síochána and other recognised search agencies, ISSARD deploys specialist dog teams to support in search, rescue, and recovery missions across Ireland. Combining professional standards with a strong community spirit, the organisation’s team goal is play a role in supporting families, communities and emergency services when someone goes missing.

ISSARD Chairperson, Becci Jeffers, is based in Courtmacsherry. Her pet dog, Pepper, adopted from West Cork Animal Rescue in 2023, is working towards assessment in the discipline of cadaver/HRD on-land and in drowned victims recovery.

Becci says the legacy of volunteering in her family and the ethos of the organisation encouraged her to join. “My dad served with the RNLI, so he likes to say ‘Pepper is continuing the family tradition of SAR work.’ I initially volunteered as a dog’s body in 2024 to support the work of the team, but as time went on the mission, work, and culture of the organisation really struck home for me.”

She continues, “the team is professional and full of eager, hardworking people who are dedicated to contributing to the exceptional demands of search, rescue, and recovery in a collaborative fashion and with a specialist focus. It is a particularly challenging line of voluntary engagement, one that requires significant commitment from our members, but equally one that offers critical services to communities in need. Recently too, we have been engaging in valuable inter-agency exercises with Killarney Water Search and Recovery, Tipperary Search and Rescue, Dublin Homeless Awareness, and the Coast Guard, which have emphasised the many contributing resources and significant voluntary hours involved in search and rescue operations. We welcome new volunteer applications through our onboarding process, and should anyone be interested in joining in some capacity, more details can be found on our website.”    

ISSARD’s onboarding programmes are currently held twice each year. These recruits initially serve as “dog’s bodies or mispers” i.e. volunteers who assist in training exercises by acting as search subjects for the dogs. This vital role helps develop and maintain the dogs’ search skills while giving new members an opportunity to learn about the team’s operations and become involved in the organisation’s work.

The next onboarding call will be for August, 26, please see www.issard.ie or follow on Facebook or Instagram for more details.

For more than 25 years, the West Cork Animal Welfare Group (WCAWG) has been dedicated to improving the lives of animals across the region. Since its inception, the organisation has helped rehome more than 8,000 animals, assisting an average of 300 to 400 pets every year in finding loving, permanent homes. Aoibhinn O’Sullivan, Kennel Staff at WCAWG, shares valuable advice on what prospective owners should know before welcoming a rescue animal into their family.

One of the most important things for prospective adopters to understand is that bringing home a rescue pet is a process that takes time. Whether it is a cat, dog, puppy or kitten, every animal needs an opportunity to settle into its new surroundings, become familiar with its environment and build trust with the people around it. Equally, families need time to get to know their new pet, including their personality, preferences, fears and individual quirks.

Patience and understanding are essential during this transition period. A move to a new home can be daunting for any animal, regardless of whether they have come directly from a previous home or from a kennel or cattery environment. Simply allowing a new pet the space and time to adjust, without overwhelming them, can make a significant difference in helping them feel secure.

Anyone considering adoption should also carefully think about the long-term commitment involved. Dogs and cats can often live for 15 years or more, depending on the breed, and owners need to be prepared for the responsibility that comes with caring for an animal throughout its lifetime.

Life circumstances can change over the years, with children growing up, moving away to college, changes in employment or family situations, but a pet remains dependent on its owners for care and stability. It is important that everyone in the household is fully committed to welcoming a new pet and understands the responsibilities involved, from feeding and exercise to training, grooming, cleaning and veterinary care. Financial costs, including unexpected vet bills, should also be considered before making the decision to adopt.

A useful guideline often referenced in rescue circles is the 3-3-3 rule, which helps explain how long it may take for a pet to settle into a new home. The first three days are typically spent decompressing after the stress of the move. During the first three weeks, the animal begins to learn household routines, become familiar with family members and gain confidence in its new surroundings. By three months, many pets are fully settled and feel at home.

While every animal is different and these timelines can vary, the 3-3-3 rule provides realistic expectations for adopters. Some pets may settle more quickly, while others require additional time depending on their background and previous experiences. Minor challenges during this adjustment period are common and should not be viewed as setbacks.

Consistency, routine and clear boundaries play a crucial role in helping both dogs and cats settle successfully. Establishing these routines from the very beginning helps create a sense of security and predictability, allowing the animal to understand what is expected of them.

When it comes to rescue dogs in particular, it is important to remember that every dog has a unique history. Some may have experienced neglect, abandonment or difficult circumstances, while others may have come from loving homes where owners could no longer care for them. Whatever their background, each dog deserves patience and understanding as they adapt to a new chapter in their lives.

Building a relationship with a rescue dog can sometimes be challenging, particularly in the early stages, but the rewards are immense. Watching a dog gain confidence, learn to trust and become a valued member of the family is one of the most rewarding aspects of rescue adoption.

Behind every successful adoption is a significant amount of work carried out by rescue organisations such as WCAWG. The centre is run by a small team of two staff members, supported by a dedicated group of volunteers and dog walkers who give their time to care for the animals. WCAWG also works closely with Transition Year students throughout the school year, providing valuable work placement opportunities.

The day-to-day reality of animal rescue involves far more than many people realise. Alongside feeding, cleaning, grooming, exercising and providing veterinary care, staff spend time socialising animals and helping prepare them for life in a new home.

Outside the kennels, the workload continues. The team responds to dozens of calls, emails and messages every day relating to adoptions, pet surrenders, lost and found animals, feral cat colonies and general pet care advice. Managing social media, updating supporters and completing the necessary administration and paperwork are also important aspects of the organisation’s work.

While the work can be demanding, seeing animals thrive in their new homes and receiving updates from adopters makes every effort worthwhile.

For more information, to make a donation or to fill out an adoption form go to www.westcorkanimals.com

Initially found as a stray, Nell’s foster caregiver, Lauren Ingram, shares why Nell is so deserving of a good home with the right person.

This little sprite is dinky collie mix, maybe mostly Australian Kelpie. She’s so small, her ears are the largest part of her! She is gentle and loving and playful, with a teeny touch of cheekiness that adds to her overall charm.

A bit timid initially with new people, Nell is dying to bond with a person and presses into you for affection! She can be coy, in that she’ll only want to do something if it’s her idea but, as she’s very responsive to treats, this can easily be worked on with training and consistency. 

The ideal home would be reasonably calm. She would be the perfect companion for an older person. She is fine with strangers and people but can be daunted by a lot of running around or noise.

Nell would do very well in an apartment or a rural setting. She would be fine as an only dog or with a very steady male companion. She does not like it when unknown dogs rush straight up to her, she prefers polite introductions. She walks gentle on lead and is very reliable off lead. Children 12-plus for Nell; she loves to play games and shake for treats so would love dog-savvy children around. She doesn’t pay much mind to cats.

If you would like to offer Nell a home, please read the Adoption Process on the West Cork Animal Welfare website (westcorkanimals.com) and apply using the Adoption Questionnaire.

There are meals you enjoy and then there are dining experiences that transport you entirely. Mary O’Brien’s recent visit to Terre, the two Michelin-starred restaurant nestled within the historic Manor House at Castlemartyr Resort, was firmly in the latter category.

For a few wonderful hours on a recent rainy Thursday evening, we escaped everyday life and immersed ourselves in a culinary journey that will stay with us for a long time.

Our invitation to dine was to mark the launch of ‘Friends of Terre’, Executive Chef Lewis Barker’s exciting new guest chef collaboration series. Fresh from retaining Terre’s two Michelin stars within his first six months at the restaurant, Barker welcomed his longtime friend Michael Wilson of Singapore’s Michelin-starred Marguerite for a unique collaborative menu showcasing both chefs’ distinctive styles.

From the moment we arrived, every detail was carefully choreographed. Our evening began in the elegant reception room with two exquisite opening bites. Belfego Akami tuna was paired with delicate hints of melon and fennel pollen, while beautifully dry-aged Shanagarry beef delivered a memorable finish of Japanese spice. It was an exciting introduction that hinted at the creativity to come.

Before dinner, Kevin O’Shea, who manages the Terre Kitchen Garden, shared some of the history of Castlemartyr Resort, as we made our way through a beautifully designed passageway, where the backlit shelves lined with preserved foraged ingredients sat opposite Executive Chef Lewis Barker’s collection of Michelin Guides, subtly reinforcing Terre’s philosophy of respecting both tradition and innovation.

One of the evening’s highlights was taking our seats at the Chef’s Table overlooking the striking open kitchen. Softly lit and quietly theatrical, the open kitchen allowed us to watch the calm precision of the team at work. Beside us, a glass cabinet displayed carefully ageing fish and game, offering a glimpse into the craftsmanship behind the menu. We were served an impossibly beautiful Skeaghanore duck creation before being introduced to the exceptional ingredients featured throughout the nine-course tasting menu.

Much of the produce comes from the surrounding area, reflecting Terre’s deep connection to the Irish landscape. Beef sourced from just across the road, specially reared milk-fed lamb from Ladysbridge, Ballycotton blue lobster, vegetables from the restaurant’s own kitchen garden and Skeaghanore duck from Ballydehob all showcased the very best of local provenance. International influences were equally evident through ingredients such as Lough Neagh smoked eel, Australian truffle and citrus-cured Hamachi, demonstrating Chef Lewis Barker’s global culinary experience while never overshadowing the exceptional Irish produce.

A delicate pea tartlet with goat’s cheese perfectly captured the essence of summer in a single bite.

The experience then moved into Terre’s beautifully appointed dining room, where warm wood tones and rich chocolate hues created an intimate yet understated setting. Here, dishes were elegantly finished tableside without unnecessary theatrics, allowing the quality of the ingredients and the technical brilliance of the cooking to take centre stage.

Service throughout the evening was faultless. Every member of the team was warm, knowledgeable and effortlessly professional. Rather than feeling overly formal, the experience felt genuinely personal, as though every detail had been created especially for us.

The wine pairing elevated each course beautifully. The citrus-cured Hamachi was matched with a crisp, juicy Fritz Haag Riesling that perfectly complemented the freshness of the dish.

Lough Neagh smoked eel topped with Kaluga caviar was another first for me on both counts, and an unforgettable combination of richness and refinement. This was followed by a naturally sweet and tender Ballycotton blue lobster dish.

Further pairings included two outstanding white wines: the 2023 Ocampo Listán Blanco from Tenerife and the beautifully mineral 2022 Hatzidakis Aidani from Santorini.

An elegant 2020 Baron de Brane Margaux introduced the rich flavour of beautifully cooked lamb served with local wild asparagus.

Dessert was every bit as memorable as the savoury courses. Accompanied by a fragrant White Tea Chai from Fujian, China, a delicate garden strawberry tart celebrated the season, before the evening concluded with what was perhaps my favourite dish of all – a theatrical chocolate gâteau infused with truffle that delivered indulgence without being too rich. This was served alongside a luscious 2018 Dobogó 6 Puttonyos Tokaji Aszú whose notes of dried apricot, tobacco leaf and dates provided the perfect conclusion. My glass was quietly and discreetly refilled, one of many thoughtful touches that defined the evening.

Finally, we returned to the salon, sinking gratefully into comfortable armchairs to enjoy beautifully crafted petits fours with tea and coffee while reflecting on the remarkable journey we had just experienced.

Chef Barker and Wilson’s shared commitment to precision, ingredients and storytelling was evident throughout the evening, blending Irish provenance with global influences to create something very special at this wonderful restaurant. 

To book go to www.terre.tablepath.com/reservations or email info@terre.ie for more information.

This September people in West Cork will have the opportunity to step back into the 1930s and let loose on the dancefloor with Edwina Guckian and The Big Gralton Band, who will bring their performance ‘The Devil’s in the Dance Hall’ – a powerful, joyous live show celebrating jazz and Irish music from the era – to Bere Island during the island’s annual arts festival. Mary O’Brien hears more about the dances of yore from Edwina Guckian and some of the older generation in West Cork.

“It’s a night for all ages to come and dance and laugh…and nobody gives a hoot what you’re doing because they’re all too busy dancing themselves,” shares dancer and artistic director Edwina Guckian, whose aim is to revive social dancing in Ireland.

“A lot of the younger generation, particularly the under-20s, aren’t dancing. They’ll go to the nightclubs or pubs where the music is blaring but everybody just stands around,” says Edwina.

Her immersive three-hour theatre and dance experience is designed to change that. “It’s music that just makes you want to move,” she says passionately.

 Centred around a fictional 1930s big band, the performance is inspired by the true story of Jimmy Gralton and the suppression of Ireland’s rural dance halls in the early 20th century.

The 1930s brought jazz and swing to Ireland but following the Carrigan Report (1934), which blamed “moral degeneracy” on motorcars, dance halls, and the “creeping in of jazz music”, the Public Dancehall Act of 1935 made unlicensed dancing illegal and was aimed primarily at controlling house dances and crossroads gatherings.

Jimmy Gralton was a socialist who was deported from Ireland for running a community hall on his land that promoted free thinking, music, and dance. Today, Edwina is part of a local committee that has bought the site of Jimmy Gralton’s original hall and is fundraising to rebuild it.

“He was a fighter for the working class people and really stood up to church and state,” she shares.

The dance project grew out of Edwina’s research into women in 1930s-40s Ireland during which she gathered stories from the older generation, including her own grandparents who shared how they cycled to dancehalls. “They’d all meet up at a local crossroads beforehand and there would never be enough bicycles, so people would be carrying, you know, like two or even three people on a bicycle…I have a lovely image of my grandmother on the crossbar holding on to grandad, you know, cycling to a dance,” says Edwina.

Another anecdote recounts how some men would put a dab of petrol on their collar. “As aftershave,” says Edwina. “So when they were dancing with a woman, she’d think that they had a car.”

In West Cork, Tim Joe Whooley started Lisheen Dance Platform near Skibbereen in the early ‘60s, along with John and Timmy Whooley and Jerry Minihane. Up to 350 people, many arriving by bicycle or on foot, would attend the dance sessions on the concrete platform at the side of the road next to Minihan’s pub in Lisheen. Entry was a shilling. Tim Joe recalls with humour a headline in his local paper at the time that read something like ‘Judge cuts short holiday to issue licence to Tim Joe Whooley for Lisheen dance platform’. Other popular dance spots included Crowley’s Hall in Union Hall, The Lilac in Enniskeane and the Town Hall in Skibbereen, where Tim Joe first met his future wife Eileen.

Pascal Hurley, 80, who grew up in Castletownbere, started attending dances in parish halls as a teenager in the 1950s. She met her husband, Danny Hurley, at a dance hall in Glengarriff. She recalls the etiquette in those days was to ask early on in the night if you wanted to dance with someone. She also remembers the excitement of getting dressed up for the dance even though most people just had the one “good dress”, which they would have made or bought locally.

Ninety-seven-year old Eileen Collins lives in Drimoleague and has always loved to dance. She recalls going to the ‘four penny hop’ and ‘Cinderella dance’ in Hannah Gurrane’s hall in Drimoleague every month and attending crossroads dances (known as ‘The Pattern’) west in Inchingerig every Sunday evening in summer. There were also ‘all night’ dances with big show bands that ran until 2am every three months. While working in London in her 20s, she visited the famous Galtymore dance hall.

Her memories include set dancing, waltzes, foxtrots, quicksteps, and dancing the ‘paraglide’ (to the tune of ‘Underneath the Spreading Chestnut Tree’).

“They were good times,” she says nostalgically. “I was often the first in and the last out of the dancehall.”

Eileen bought her first bicycle on hire purchase and cycled to dances in Drinagh.

She recalls how at dances the men would stand on one side of the hall and the women on the other until the music started. “Then the men would fly across the room!” she adds with a smile.

There was the ‘Kiss Me Waltz’ where you’d have to kiss whoever you stopped in front of,” she recalls. “Some people used to run off to the bathroom,” she says laughing.

At Christmastime there were ‘turkey balls’ – dances held in people’s homes where men played cards for turkeys while others danced in the kitchen.

In Summer there were threshing balls with dancing and singing in the house that night and “plenty of porter for the men”. “We’d come home across the fields at two or three in the morning and you’d hear the corncrakes singing.”

Edwina and The Big Gralton Band want to reignite that joy and sense of freedom on the Irish dancefloor. “We’ll also be setting the scene,” she shares “so you’ll come away knowing a lot more about that era.”

Dancers of all ages are encouraged to dress in the style of the 1930s and get ready to be swept up in the frenzy of jazz. There will also be sean nós, shim-shamming, lindy hopping, set-dancing, surprises and scandal. No experience necessary, as Edwina will teach you all the dance moves.

The Bere Island Arts Festival runs from September 17-20. For more information and to book tickets go to www.bereislandartsfestival.ie.

On a recent trip to Antwerp my intrepid partner and I found ourselves in hardhats traversing the city’s historic canals. But for flash lights we were in darkness, walking in a line along a canal bed, for the waterways, known as ‘ruien,’ had been vaulted over, enclosed, for many hundreds of years. We were effectively walking underneath the city, traversing the route that canal barges may have once taken, passing under what once would have been bridges and sluice gates.

Being a book-hound, I later found a wonderful tome with photographs of the ruien from the 1800s. There, in sepia, standing tall in the openings of the ruien, were ships, slim one-masters huddled hull to hull along the canal walls; and larger three-masters docked along the Jordaenskai, the quay breasting the River Scheldt. The photographs also showed, amongst the tall ships in the Willemdok, the tall, dark flues of steam ships, for this was the age when both the new and the old mingled together, as famously depicted in William Turner’s ‘The Fighting Temeraire.’

Turner’s painting of 1839, set across the channel on a pearlescent River Thames, shows England’s gallant old warship being towed by a dark-flued tugboat. The warship was at the end of its life, a metaphor for what would soon be the end of the ‘age of sail,’ as the industrial revolution powered ahead. 

Just as steam power revolutionised shipping, the birth of photography began to revolutionise the way that we see. The photographs reproduced in my fortuitous find stand in stark contrast to Turner’s painting. They are not regarded as great works of art, but as traces of moments frozen by a mechanical device. They are the work of a new technology, of a mechanical eye, that would soon vie with the painter’s hand for supremacy in the realm of simulacra, in the realm of reproduction.

Photographs from the 1800s always feel ghostly: stevedores at work rolling barrels along the quay of the Brouwersvliet (the Brewers Canal), passengers and sailors grouped at the Willemdok, boys wading into the Margueriedok at low tide. The latter are seen in a photograph from 1897, and one cannot help but wonder at the lives they lived. For where a painting of the same may have been in some way staged, edited or invented, our attention taken by the brushstrokes and the whimsy of the painter, there can be no doubt in the photograph, of a moment frozen in time, of the hesitancy of one boy and the daring of another, at the light and shadow of a particular time of day, of the longboats, half in the water, beside them. Who were those boys? What lives did they live? Did they survive the Great War? Did they survive the month? Did they know the legend of ‘Lange Wapper,’ the trickster who would lead one into the waters?

‘Lange Wapper’ is a mythic figure in Antwerp, a shape-shifting trickster of the canals who would lure drunks into the murky waters late at night. A sculpture of the trickster graces the forecourt of the Steen, Antwerp’s ancient fortress facing the Scheldt. As in the photographs of the boys, there is no changing the sculpture’s shape. The ‘real’ Lange Wapper is the spirit of calamity, a legend forged, perhaps, to warn a populace against the treachery of Antwerp’s ruien, the malign spirit of the hungry waters that could cut lives unexpectedly short.

Old photographs haunt; they beg stories of past lives. That is not to say that old paintings don’t; in many cases they are far more alive. The main difference is that paintings are hybrid creatures: they tell us as much about the painter as about their subject, bearing as they do the visceral trace of the painter’s hand. A good example here is ‘A view of the Koolvliet’ (the Coal Canal) from 1875, by Jan Michiel Ruyten, which predates a photograph of the same canal from 1881. Working from life, Ruyten had no way of ‘freezing’ his figures; they are approximations, evocations, rendered with deft economy, giving us an authentic flavour of the life of the canal. The photograph, however, is tantalisingly free of that trace, one step removed from human touch, giving it the aura of time embalmed, at once alluring and distant, at once full of life and the knowledge of its passing.

The dialogue between photography, sculpture and painting, has in our own time, of course, a rich history. Think of Any Warhol’s famous screen prints of Marilyn Monroe, of Gerhard Richter’s series of blurred photo realist paintings. Perhaps most moving of all are Anselm Kiefer’s multitude of lead books, the ‘pages’ of which are endowed with photographic prints, seared and emulsified into the lead. Such ‘books’ Kiefer has, over the years, forged into installations: as mobile library shelves, as sculptural stacks, as the ‘cargo’ of lead model ships, which in turn are attached to monolithic canvases. Through the likes of Kiefer the contemporary artist has swallowed the photograph just as the whale swallowed Jonah, only for it to come out again as something new, an artefact transformed. And so here we are again with the ships; this time they are Kiefer’s: lead effigies of WWII, just as Turner’s ‘The Fighting Temeraire’ was an effigy of Waterloo.

This month, branch Chair, Jez Simms, describes how some Egret species began to visit Ireland regularly, one species even breeding here now.

It was not until the latter half of the last century that birders in Ireland began to regularly encounter a beautiful pure white heron known throughout Europe and Africa as the Little Egret. A bird so beautiful it was nearly wiped out in Europe in the 1800s due to the great demand for its breeding plumes to make ladies hats. The campaign to save the bird led to the formation of the Royal Society for the Protection of Birds (RSPB) in 1889, now the largest bird conservation group in Europe with over a million members.

A rarity in Ireland up to the late seventies, the first ever Little Egret was recorded in County Cork in 1940, more and more kept arriving until they were finally confirmed as a breeding species in 1997 at Fota in Co. Cork. Nowadays these beautiful birds can be seen gracing most waterways, lakes and coastal areas in the country with a population, including wintering birds; of approximately 1,500 birds with a breeding population of around 500 pairs.

The next Egret to start regularly visiting Ireland is the Cattle Egret, slightly smaller and less elegant than the Little Egret, these birds are not exclusive to water margins but, as their name suggests, like to roam amongst cattle and other herbivores in quest of the flies and other insects they attract, returning to water margins to roost and sometimes hunt. The first one recorded in Ireland was at Kilkeran Lake in West Cork on March 7, 1976, and then there were only around 10 more records between then and 2006. In 2007 there was a massive influx of Cattle Egrets during the winter with around 80 birds arriving along the south and west coasts, forever changing its status in Ireland. It is now a regular late Autumn and Winter visitor to our shore with flocks of birds into the high twenties sometimes occurring here in West Cork.

But that’s not all folks, back in 1986 Ireland’s first ever Great White Egret was found in Cobh; this was a very early sign of another major Egret expansion with a big influx starting in the 2000s. They first bred in the UK in 2012 and are now well established in Ireland, particularly in Co. Cork. They can often be seen on wetlands and marshes; breeding is suspected but not confirmed yet. These are magnificent birds, pure white and the size of our Grey Heron, with a distinctive long yellowish bill, unlike the black bill of the Little Egret, so they are hard to miss. They are almost resident at the Gearagh Nature Reserve near Macroom, with numbers sometimes building into double figures in the Autumn and Winter. At White’s Marsh near Clonakilty, I have seen all three of our Egrets feeding together.

While not a true Egret, there is another bird which might be showing signs of following them, this is the mega rare Squacco Heron. It is Egret-like in flight with its pure white wings, but when in reeds or in foliage its beautiful buff and brown plumage can make it hard to spot. In recent years the odd one has shown up in Ireland and this year an unprecedented three have been seen with quite a few in the UK as well, so maybe they are following a similar pattern. So, check your field guides and bird apps and keep an eye out for all these truly beautiful birds.

BirdWatch Ireland West Cork Branch News

Our next events are:

July 12: Nature walk on Whiddy Island.

August 9: Timoleague Educational Garden.

Visit our website www.birdwatchirelandwestcork.ie for more information about these events. To receive news and reminders about our events join our mailing list by sending an email to mailinglist@birdwatchirelandwestcork.ie.

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by Niamh Cooper, Melissa Byrne & Gillian Hegarty

We know them as something we get in our local takeaway. But making your own spring rolls is actually so easy – and fun – a four-year-old could do it! It’s actually the perfect food to make at a party.

Spring rolls are one of those dishes that look amazing and are surprisingly simple to put together. They are incredibly nutritious, bursting with nutrients and so full of flavour. Everyone gets to make their own, with ingredients they love. Perfect for a party or playdate. Kids love them and it encourages everyone to try new foods.

Fresh Spring Rolls

You will need:

• 8 rice paper wrappers*

• 1 carrot, peeled, cut into matchsticks

• 1 small red or yellow pepper, thinly sliced

• 2 spring onions, thinly sliced

• 4 leaves of butter-head lettuce, torn

• 1 small cucumber, thinly sliced lengthways

• 1 mango

• 1 avocado

• 100g vermicelli rice noodles, cooked and cooled

• Fresh herbs: mint, basil, coriander, chives 

• Edible flowers: chive flowers, marigold, cornflowers

• 1 chicken breast**, cut into 1cm pieces

• 2 tbsp soy / tamari* sauce

• 2 tbsp mirin*

* Most supermarkets have these in the oriental foods aisle.

** You can use tofu, prawns, beef, or any other meat you fancy, too. 

Place the tofu/meat in a bowl with the soy/tamari sauce and the mirin, and leave to marinate for at least 10 minutes. Cook slowly in a bit of oil in a frying pan or oven until cooked through, then leave to cool completely.

Slice all the vegetables you have chosen to use into thin batons, no longer than the width of the wrapper. Lay them out on a plate.

Fill a large bowl with water. Submerge one rice paper wrapper at a time for a few seconds until it softens and becomes flexible. Lift it out carefully and place it on a damp tea towel.

Lay a few pieces of lettuce horizontally across the centre of the wrapper, leaving about an inch free on each side. Add your chosen fillings on top: a little of everything, or whatever takes your fancy.

To roll: gently lift the bottom of the wrapper up and over the filling, pull it snug, then fold in the two sides and continue rolling until your spring roll is fully wrapped. The tighter you roll, the better it holds together.

Peanut Dipping Sauce

• ½ cup peanut butter

• 1 tbsp rice wine vinegar

• 1 tbsp soy or tamari sauce

• 2 tbsp hoisin sauce

• 1 small clove garlic, finely grated

Combine all ingredients in a bowl and whisk together with one-third cup hot water until smooth. Add a little more water if you prefer a thinner consistency.

Vietnamese Dipping Sauce (Nuoc Cham)

• 3 tbsp lime juice

• 2 tbsp fish sauce

• 2 tbsp caster sugar

• 2 cloves garlic, finely chopped

• 1 small chilli, sliced (optional)

• ¼ cup water

Stir all ingredients together until the sugar dissolves. Taste and adjust, depending on your taste.

Follow us for more news about our cooking and gardening workshops in West Cork schools: c @kidsfoodrevolution. Newsletter: kidsfoodrevolution.substack.com.
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Hair loss can happen for a variety of reasons, as herbalist Rosarie Kingston explains, looking at the different types of hair loss and approaches to preventing or treating this condition

Alopecia is the medical term for hair loss, and it can occur due to family history, autoimmune conditions, hormonal changes, lack of certain nutrients in the diet, some medications, scalp problems, and stress. It is often more helpful to think of alopecia as a sign that something else is going on in the body, rather than one single condition, because the way the hair falls out can point to different underlying causes.

Hair grows in a repeating cycle with three main stages: a growing phase (anagen), a short transition phase (catagen), and a resting phase (telogen) during which the hair stops growing and eventually sheds. After shedding, the follicle rests for a while before starting a new growing phase and producing a fresh hair strand. If there is a disruption in this cycle we get hair loss.

The most common type of long-term hair loss is called androgenetic alopecia, often known as female-pattern or male-pattern hair loss. This type runs in families and gets worse slowly over time. It is the kind of thinning that many women notice as they get older.

Another common type is alopecia areata, where the body’s immune system mistakenly attacks the hair follicles, leading to patchy hair loss. Hair can also shed more than usual after an illness, very high stress, childbirth, surgery, rapid weight loss, or if there are low levels of iron, zinc, vitamin D, or B vitamins.

Hormonal changes are another major cause, especially during pregnancy and menopause. Certain medicines, scalp infections, very tight hairstyles, and harsh hair treatments can also weaken the hair follicles and lead to shedding.

Oestrogen plays an important role in keeping our hair healthy by helping it stay in its growing phase for longer. When oestrogen levels drop, hair can begin to shed more easily and may take longer to grow back. This is why many women notice thinning hair during times of hormonal change, such as after childbirth or during menopause.

During menopause in particular, the hair follicles (which produce each strand of hair) are quite sensitive to changes in oestrogen. Lower levels can affect not just how much hair grows, but also its thickness and texture. However, it is not always as simple as ‘low oestrogen’ causing hair loss. In some women, hair follicles are more sensitive to other hormones called androgens, even when these hormone levels are within a normal range. This means that hair thinning can also be influenced by genetics and how the body responds to its hormones, which is why blood tests do not always show a clear cause.

Stress can lead to hair loss in two main ways. First, it can trigger a condition called telogen effluvium, where many hairs move into the resting phase too soon and then fall out a few months later. Second, stress may help bring on alopecia areata in people who are already prone to it, possibly by affecting how the immune system and inflammation work.

This does not mean stress is always the only cause. More often, it acts as a trigger on top of something else already going on, such as a family tendency, hormonal changes, illness, or a lack of certain nutrients. In everyday terms, stress can ‘tip’ the hair cycle out of balance, because the tiny structures that grow our hair are very sensitive to what is happening inside the body.

Nutrition is important because hair grows quickly and needs protein, iron, zinc, vitamin D, and several B vitamins to build strong strands. If these nutrients are low, hair can become thinner, more brittle, or fall out more easily. A Mediterranean-style diet, enough protein in the diet, and fixing any confirmed nutrient shortages are often the most sensible place to start if you notice hair thinning.

Among herbs and plant oils, rosemary is one of the better-known options, with studies suggesting it may support hair growth through its anti-inflammatory and antioxidant actions. Pumpkin seed oil is another promising remedy, with clinical and preclinical evidence in pattern hair loss, possibly through effects on 5-alpha-reductase and support for the hair follicle. Nettle and horsetail (equisetum) are also traditionally valued for hair health, as they are rich in minerals that support strong, resilient hair.

For rosemary, a simple and effective use is as a rinse: simmer a handful of dried rosemary in water for 15-20 minutes, strain, and use the cooled liquid as a final rinse after washing your hair. Pumpkin seed oil is best taken internally, typically as a supplement (following the dose on the product label). Nettle can be used as a daily tea (steeping dried nettle leaves in hot water) or as a rinse made from a strong infusion. Horsetail is most commonly taken as a tea or tincture, though it can also be used as a rinse. Do not plant horsetail in your garden. It is very invasive and will take over in a short space of time. 

The best approach really depends on what’s causing the hair loss. If you’re noticing sudden shedding after a period of stress, illness, or a big life change, it often improves on its own once that trigger settles down. On the other hand, pattern hair loss and autoimmune-type alopecia usually need a more targeted plan.

If hair loss is ongoing, it’s sensible to take a close look at things like your iron levels, thyroid function, vitamin D, zinc, your diet, any medications you’re on, and whether you’re going through menstrual or menopausal changes, or showing signs of an autoimmune condition.

A  realistic approach might include fixing any nutrient shortages, easing up on stress where possible, using well-studied herbs like rosemary or pumpkin seed oil, and addressing any hormonal or medical factors at play. This kind of combined approach is often far more helpful than focusing on just one cause.

In Italy, a Dublin Bay prawn is a scampo (plural scampi). Here in the 1970s, scampi tails with chips became a popular dish, but it was not cheap, so sometimes restaurants used substitutes such as monkfish. At the time, monkfish was thought too hideous and unfamiliar for our tastes, but cut into small prawn-shaped pieces and deep-fried, it could be served up, dishonestly, as scampi. No restaurateur would do that today, because their customers have learned that monkfish itself is delicious too.

But what exactly is a monkfish? The word is as ambiguous as prawn. In Alwyne Wheeler’s definitive Key to the Fishes of Northern Europe, the monkfish is Squatina squatina, an angel shark; it was the same in the Irish Specimen Fish Committee’s annual report. But in a restaurant or at the fishmonger’s, a monkfish is Lophius piscatorius, the anglerfish, something completely different.

The monastic connection goes back to 1546 when a creature called a ‘sea monk’ was captured in the Øresund, that narrow stretch of water between Sweden and Denmark. The sea monk was said to be a fish that resembled a monk dressed in his religious habit. It appeared in several serious scientific books of the time; those of Guillaume Rondelet in 1554 and Pierre Belon in 1555 both had, among relatively accurate drawings of fish and other marine animals, pictures of a beast with scaly tunic, spiky limbs and the tonsured head of a monk. It was thought by some to be either a badly-drawn giant squid, a merman or perhaps a Jenny Haniver – one of those fanciful creatures that sailors used to construct out of various dried animals. Renaissance academics were still inclined to believe in sea monsters – Rondelet’s book also has a drawing of a ‘sea bishop’, which had a vaguely human torso and head (plus bishop’s mitre) all covered in scales, but bare legs, like those of an ostrich.

Rondelet and Belon both knew the difference between the sea monk, the angel shark and the anglerfish. They called the angel shark Squatina (the name used by Linnaeus over 200 years later); Belon also named it ‘angelot de mer’, or angel of the sea – the large pectoral fins of the fish could be said to resemble angelic wings. The anglerfish, he called ‘grenouille de mer’ (sea frog) and ‘diable de mer’ (sea devil), both names applied today to certain types of anglerfish.

An angel shark does, with a little imagination, resemble a cowled monk, an anglerfish really doesn’t, so quite why and when sea monk, angel shark and anglerfish became conflated, I don’t know.

The anglerfish order, Lophiiformes, is made up of fifteen families, including the common anglerfish, the batfish, the frogfish and the truly bizarre deep-water anglerfish. There are hundreds of species. They are so named because of their method of catching prey – they all have a fishing rod, actually modified dorsal fin rays, the first of which has a fleshy knob, the lure, at its end. They are unique among bony fish in having their gill openings behind their pectoral fins instead of in front; also, they have depressible teeth, extensible stomachs, and no scales.

In Irish waters we have two species – the common anglerfish, Lophius piscatorius, and the smaller and rarer black-bellied anglerfish, L. budegassa, though other species live in very deep water. If you order monkfish in a restaurant here, it is the common anglerfish that you will be eating. It is very ugly; most of its body seems to be head, and its enormous mouth is armed with sharp, backward pointing teeth. For this reason, you will usually see only the tail on a fishmonger’s slab. It is found from shallow water down to 600 metres or more, where it lies buried in sand or gravel, waving the fishing rod in front of its jaws to entice a potential meal. When a fish approaches, thinking the lure is something edible, the angler opens its huge mouth, and the smaller fish quickly becomes the prey instead. Anglerfish eat all kinds of bottom-dwelling species and anything else they can catch, even rising to the surface to take sea birds.

Other members of the order are still uglier, and some quite extraordinary. The many species of frogfish include the Sargassum fish, a small angler which is camouflaged to resemble the clumps of Sargassum weed in which it floats in tropical seas. The batfish have their pelvic fins modified into leg-like structures with which they can walk on the sea bed. The weirdest of all the anglerfish, however, are the deep-sea species; some are quite terrifying to look at. The names of the different families give clues as to their grotesque appearances: football fish, whip-nosed anglers, wolf-trap anglers, black sea devils, warty sea devils. They are the fish of nightmares.

Deep-sea anglerfish live in mid-water, down to depths of 3,000 metres, where there is no light. So they have two big problems – finding food and finding a mate. They solve the first difficulty by having a lamp on the end of their fishing rod; the bioluminescence is produced by bacteria. Other fish see something shining in the dark, they swim closer to investigate, the huge open mouth snaps shut and the backward pointing teeth ensure no escape. As food is so scarce in their bathypelagic habitat, they must be able to swallow whatever they find, hence their enormously stretchable stomachs.

Reproduction is even stranger. They lay millions of eggs which hatch into planktonic larvae. The female grows normally, but the male becomes a dwarf with special biting jaws and no fishing rod. When he finds a female, guided by her luminous lure, he bites into her skin, and there he stays. In some species, their body tissues actually fuse, and the male becomes a parasite, getting his nutrients from the female’s blood, and releasing sperm whenever she wants to reproduce. Sometimes, one female will have several parasitic males attached. Males who never find a female will die because they can’t fish for themselves. The warty sea devil, Ceratias holboeli, is one of the largest species; the female grows up to 120 cm, but the male is never more than 6 cm long.

The other fish called monkfish – the angel sharks – also have flattened bodies for life on the sea bed, but that is really the only similarity to anglerfish. Being sharks, they have cartilaginous skeletons – no bones. Their gills open to the exterior via five slits on either side of the head, and their skin is covered in dermal denticles, like tiny teeth, which give all sharks their rough feel, as any fisherman will know who has been grazed by a dogfish. They live in relatively shallow waters, lying concealed in sand or mud until an unsuspecting fish passes by, and then the shark lunges up and grabs it.

There are 26 species of angel shark, all in the genus Squatina. Many of them are in trouble because of fishing, deliberately or as by-catch; the three species found in the eastern Atlantic, including S. squatina, the common angel shark, are all critically endangered. S. squatina was once plentiful in Ireland, and frequently caught by human anglers, especially in places such as Tralee Bay and Clew Bay. In the 1970s, like flapper skate and blue sharks, they were all killed, just for fun and photographs, and dumped back in the sea – there was no market for their meat here. But then anglers began tagging them, and they might have been all right but for the introduction of the tangle net. These death traps, set primarily for crayfish, also catch anything that swims into them, including angel sharks.

Much of the angel shark’s territory in Kerry is a designated national park, and last year Tralee Bay was declared an ‘important shark and ray area’ by the International Union for the Conservation of Nature, yet fishermen still use tangle nets in these places. Ireland is one of the last refuges of the common angel shark, a fish whose ancestors swam in Jurassic seas and outlived the dinosaurs. What an absolute disgrace it would be if, whether due to politics, economics, or because the government just didn’t care, this shark was to become extinct.

This month, branch committee member Andrea Reichstein travels up to Rathlin Island, off the northern coast of County Antrim in Northern Ireland, to experience its birdlife and so much more.

After visiting Cape Clear for the very enjoyable week-long ‘Seabirds to Songbirds’ course held by Dick Coombes for Birdwatch Ireland two years ago, I once again felt drawn to visit one of Ireland’s many stunning islands. This year I decided to travel across Ireland to Rathlin island. It is a fairly epic journey, especially if done by public transport, which gives an added sense of adventure and the feel of travelling somewhere very exotic.

I went for a week at the end of April and was extremely lucky with the weather; the sun was splitting the rocks every day and it was very difficult to eventually leave this paradise.

Similar to Cape Clear, Rathlin is a great place for bird and nature lovers: Cape Clear has the bird observatory and Rathlin has the RSPB Rathlin West Light Seabird Centre – both are great for walking and exploring. But be warned, do not bring along someone who is a fan of quick walks; they won’t like it, as you will be stopping constantly – there is just so much to see and watch.

It is difficult to pick my highlights of the stay, but the following are definitely some. On my first morning, walking the ca 7km Rathlin Island Trail up to the seabird centre (there is also a bus, aptly named Puffin bus running between the ferry and the centre), I was perhaps 1km away from the centre when I spotted a massive bird. It came out of nowhere, flying low overhead, chased by crows. This was my very first sighting of a (juvenile) white-tailed eagle and it was something else! I was amazed to see such a big and powerful bird being chased by crows. I learned that juveniles do pass through, either from Scotland or the south of Ireland, but so far none of them have ever settled here. Hopefully this one has made its home here, as by the time I left, it had stayed around for five days, so maybe!

I decided to do the Kebble South Trail on the day I was due to leave the island. It’s a beautiful walk along the cliffs with great views onto some more cliffs where seabirds perch and you can look down on seals in the water below. I spotted two birds in the distance perched on a rock. At first glance, they looked a bit like gulls but then I realised that I was looking at Northern Ireland’s only breeding pair of great skuas! I had a few more encounters with them. From all directions, I could see them sitting on their elevated stone and they treated me with some flyovers, displaying their beautiful wing markings.

Rathlin is of course famous for the Golden Hare with its blonde fur and blue eyes, which is a result of a gene defect and only occurs on Rathlin island. There are only a handful of them born each year, out of 600-800 hares in total. So, if you love hares, you will love Rathlin. Throughout my visit, I kept a close eye out for the elusive golden hare. I saw plenty of hares, some noticeably brighter than others, but I was never quite sure whether I had actually found one. When I mentioned this to locals, they all gave the same response: if you see a golden hare, you’ll know it.

On my last evening I headed out onto the Ballyconaghan Trail, which numerous sources had told me is the best spot to spot one. That evening, with the sun hanging low in the sky, I turned a corner and saw them: two hares. One was a typical Irish hare, but the other was unmistakably a golden hare. The moment I saw it, I knew. I could hardly believe my luck. Its coat was a striking blend of pale blonde and white, and its vivid blue eyes made it look truly magnificent.

Then there were the seabirds. During the first two days of my stay, the cliffs around the seabird centre were teeming with life. Every available rock face seemed to be occupied by guillemots, while ledges were packed with razorbills, fulmars, kittiwakes and, of course, puffins. The sheer volume of birds was incredible, and the constant chorus of calls created an unforgettable atmosphere.

I had expected the colonies to come with a strong smell, but there was surprisingly little scent at all. Perhaps I had arrived early enough in the season to avoid it – I suspect things will be very different later in the summer.

As the week went on fewer and fewer birds were on the cliffs and it fell almost silent. Some visitors to the centre did not see a puffin so they were understandably disappointed.

Therefore, my top tip is this: don’t just visit Rathlin for the day. Stay for several nights, visit the seabird centre more than once, and take time to explore the rest of the island. There are several stunning walks and, even after five days on Rathlin, I didn’t feel that I had seen everything – or heard everything. Unfortunately, I was too early for the corncrake, or perhaps the corncrake was late; either way, we missed each other.

But the puffins! It is a joy simply to watch them. Even when they are not doing very much, they are somehow endlessly entertaining, whether waddling seemingly aimlessly about or trying to pull up vegetation, only to discover they are not quite strong enough and becoming visibly frustrated.

The seabird centre is also an excellent spot for watching whales, dolphins and other marine life. While I didn’t see any myself, several pods of dolphins had been spotted passing by in the week before my stay. I did, however, see seals, including both grey and harbour seals.

Rathlin Harbour is home to plenty of eider ducks, which were a real treat for me, especially because of their unusual and distinctive calls. They sound as though they have just heard a particularly juicy piece of gossip! It was to this sound that I fell asleep each night, and I have to say it has become one of my favourite bird calls.

I will definitely be back, not only to Rathlin, but also for a few days on Cape Clear.

BirdWatch Ireland
West Cork Branch News

Our next event is:

June 6 – Courtmacsherry Community Biodiversity Action Plan walk

June 24 – Swift walk in Clonakilty

Visit our website www.birdwatchirelandwestcork.ie for more information about these events. To receive news and reminders about our events join our mailing list by sending an email to mailinglist@birdwatchirelandwestcork.ie.

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by Naomi Fein

Many of my clients tell me they have been showing up consistently – posting regularly, trying different platforms, doing the things you are supposed to do. But it costs more than it gives back. The time it takes. Two hours disappear between deciding to post and actually posting. “I feel like I am shouting into a room where nobody is listening,” someone said to me recently. “And I am exhausted.”

What strikes me is not the exhaustion. That makes sense. It is the assumption beneath it – more platforms, more posts, more visibility is always the answer. We have inherited this belief. And I think it is time to question where it came from.

When I look at the roots of ‘more is better’, I keep arriving at the same place: the Industrial Revolution. The shift from handmade, agricultural societies to automated industrial ones brought a big promise: we could produce more for less time. And with that came a whole belief system. More output equals more value. More money brings more power. And power – finally – feels like the path to the thing we are all actually craving underneath: safety. If I can control enough – my income, my visibility, my reputation – I will finally feel secure. I can stop bracing.

Except control doesn’t deliver that. It can’t. Because life is not controllable, and the more we try to hold it, the more energy it takes. So the safety never arrives. ‘More’ is a horizon. You move toward it, and it keeps moving. We end up time-poor, money-poor, energy-poor – not because we actually are, but because our eyes are permanently fixed somewhere ahead.

This belief runs straight through how most of us think about marketing. If you are not on Instagram AND Facebook AND LinkedIn AND everything else, you are missing your audience. Post every day, or the algorithm will forget you. Even people who are consistent in their efforts carry an inner voice that the outer pressure has installed: this is not enough. You need to do more.

What if that voice belongs to a map that no longer fits the territory?

If your identity and business are rooted in CARE, not MORE – if you wish to mind our planet, our people, and have a viable business – then the old marketing rulebook may not just be exhausting – it may be the wrong map entirely.

So what does the right map look like?

I came to this through an unusual back door. I started in community development – working with migrants, youth, women – before moving into design and business consulting. For the past decade, I have been finding a visual way to map human ecosystems: businesses, teams, organisations. Seeing the whole picture in one view unlocks something unexpected. Time and again, my clients find clarity they couldn’t access through Excel sheets and text-heavy marketing strategies.

To make such a map, I start by asking: “Who are the people who help you achieve your goals?” “Who are your best clients?” Nine out of ten clients stare at me blankly. And I understand why. Most of us skip the question entirely. We go straight to doing – a new platform, a post, a campaign that takes weeks to build. We invest time, money, and hope, and watch it land quietly in the void. We were never clear on who we were talking to. We just kept moving.

Once we gain clarity on who our people are, a second question follows: “How many can we actually know well enough to tend?”

This is where something shifts. Your core – the people who already believe in what you do, who come back, who refer others, who will tell you honestly when something isn’t working – is smaller than you think. And that is not a limitation. It is a gift. A small, well-tended group of people who genuinely believe in you will do more for your business than a thousand followers who scroll past. The number will be different for every business. What matters is whether you know who they are and whether you have real, sustainable ways of staying connected.

Robin Dunbar, an anthropologist at Oxford, found that humans have a cognitive limit of roughly 150 stable relationships – now known as Dunbar’s Number. Beyond that, we lose the ability to really know people. The Romans understood something similar: their basic military unit was eight soldiers – the contubernium – who shared a tent, ate together, and fought together. Trust scaled through that small unit, not through mass co-ordination.

Around your core, a wider community – people connected to you but not yet as close. Beyond that: the public. These three circles are not a hierarchy of importance. They are a map of where your energy goes. If you look after your core well, they hold the golden key of how to reach your wider community. And your wider community, over time, reaches the public. That is not a shortcut. It is how communities have always worked.

The question to ask yourself is not: “How do I reach more people?” It is: “Do I know who my people are, and am I actually tending that relationship?”

In practice, this changes what marketing looks like entirely.

Instead of producing content for the algorithm, you design experiences – events, conversations, writing, small gatherings – that feed the ecosystem around your work. You are not trying to fill an ocean. You are tending a garden.

And you choose the channels and activities that give you energy rather than drain it. If you love writing, write. If you come alive in a room with people, create the room. The right marketing is not the one that works in theory. It is the one you can actually sustain.

You do not need to talk to everyone. You need to talk to the right people. You probably already know some of them. Go and talk with them – that is a good starting point.

What excites me most right now is more of this: mapping ecosystems with clients and watching unexpected doors open, gathering where solutions emerge from the group, experimenting together rather than each of us figuring it out alone. A place to belong, as much as a place to work.

If you want help finding your people and building a marketing approach that actually fits your business, I would love to talk. Contact me on 086 3743132 or pop me an email naomi@thinkvisual.ie. You can also find out more about me and my work at www.thinkvisual.ie.

I’m taking a break for July but will be back for the August issue with more visual models that may help you grow your business. 

We spoke in detail last month about the new windows and doors grant, recently launched under the Individual Energy Upgrade Grant. First of all, I need to make a correction to one of the grant rules, which has been clarified by SEAI in the meantime. My understanding was that, in order to be eligible for the window or door grant, all your windows or doors in the house would have to meet the minimum SEAI specification (a U-value of 1.4 W/m2K or lower). This was always the rule for window and door grants under the One Stop Shop Scheme and would normally mean replacing all the windows or doors. I have since been informed by SEAI that they will offer the grants towards a partial window or door replacement, but that it is a one time grant, you can only make the claim once. Obviously you still need to meet the minimum insulation standards we discussed last month, which may be harder to do if only changing a few windows. 

This month we are continuing on the glazing subject, discussing sunrooms. Sunrooms or conservatories are great spaces for capturing heat when the sun comes out and making the most of a site with a good view. These glass-walled retreats are a common architectural feature on both old and new houses across West Cork. However, as we move toward higher insulation standards for retrofits and new builds, the humble sunroom is coming under the microscope. While they feel warm on a sunny April afternoon, they can often be the ‘weakest link’ in a home’s thermal envelope. There are also complications regarding how they are treated in BER assessments.

Firstly, let’s look at efficiency. I’m sure we have all experienced fully glazed sunrooms that get roasting hot in the summer and freezing cold in the winter. This is simple physics: glazing allows for solar gain. While this ‘free’ heat can be useful, it can quickly lead to overheating, and the heat loss during nights and winter usually outweighs the gains. In terms of heat loss, a wall built to modern standards will be almost 4.5 times better at retaining heat compared to the best triple-glazed window. Finally, the ‘form factor’ of these spaces is often inefficient. They are usually three-sided structures attached to the main house, often with vaulted ceilings. This creates a high proportion of heat-loss area; glazing, walls, floor, and roof, in comparison to the useable floor area.

If you are designing a sunroom from scratch, my advice is to reduce the proportion of glazing. Aim for a solid roof with a few rooflights and no more than 30 per cent glazing on the walls. This provides ample solar gain while minimising heat loss. If you are clever with the design, this shouldn’t restrict how the space captures views or connects to the surroundings. To be fair, most sunrooms on new-build homes already follow these principles; in fact, it would be nearly impossible to meet current building regulations with a fully glazed space that is thermally part of the house.

This leads to my second point: existing sunrooms that are more or less fully glazed. I’m currently sitting in one while writing this article. It’s a slightly overcast April day; about 16 degrees Celsius outside and 28 degrees inside with the door open! We don’t have any heating in this space, and the door into the living room is an external-grade door. We don’t use the room much in the winter; it’s great in spring and autumn, if we have sunshine, but as soon as it gets dark, it’s very cold. In the height of summer, it needs all the doors open to stay cool. Despite this, it is still a useful space, and I’m glad we spent the time and money repairing it when we moved in rather than demolishing it. My advice if you have this type of sunroom is to treat it as a seasonal space: don’t try to heat it, and ensure it is thermally separated from the rest of the house when temperatures drop. You could also consider closing in part of the roof and walls with insulated panels; I have seen some very effective examples of this.

How sunrooms are treated in your BER (Building Energy Rating) roughly follows the principles above:

Separated: If it is thermally separated from the rest of the house (e.g., by an external-grade door), is mainly glazed, and has no fixed heating, it is not counted as part of the house’s internal floor area.

Included: If these criteria aren’t met, for example, if you have a radiator in there, the room is counted as part of the heated envelope. This generally leads to a poorer BER rating because of the high heat loss through the glass.

This classification becomes important when looking at the SEAI window, door and heat pump grants, which all require a certain level of insulation of the home. If your sunroom is classified as part of the house, it is likely to negatively impact your Heat Loss Indicator (HLI). This is a critical metric, as the heat Pump Grant requires an HLI of 2.3 or lower. It is  also one of the routes to grant compliance for windows and doors.

Sunrooms are not necessarily a bad thing; they can be very useful spaces. It is simply important to be aware of their impact on your energy use, BER, and grant eligibility.

Heads up: For those planning a BER soon, from May 24, 2026, the BER scale is being simplified from 15 categories (A1, B2, and so on) to a basic A to G scale. This is part of wider changes to the Energy Performance of Buildings Directive (EPBD) at a European level. We will dive into this in more detail next month.

As always, if you would like to get in touch about anything in this article or your own retrofit project, feel free to reach out: ruairi@retrofurb.ie.