Mícheál came into my room this morning and we asked Google to play some nursery rhymes. As Ten Green Bottles started, he ran to the kitchen and came back with 10 plastic cups, which he lined up on my bedside table.
As each green bottle “accidentally fell”, he knocked one off and we both roared with laughter. Mícheál is three. He was born in this house, as was Iseult, his seven-year old sister.
That is how my day began. I am an 82-year-old woman living with one of my adult offspring and her family, namely my daughter Katie Ingle, her husband Killian Holmes and their three children, Síofra, Iseult and Mícheál Ingle Holmes.
Intergenerational or multigenerational living are two of the names for the way I live. I’m not doing anything radically different, even if sometimes people are surprised by my living circumstances. Intergenerational living occurs in some parts of this country and the rest of the world quite naturally as older people open up their homes to their relatives.
In some places, children never leave home but simply bring their partners into the house and start their families. In Ireland, from anecdotal evidence at least, single-family homes are increasingly the norm. Many older people are living alone in two or three-bedroom houses while the housing crisis escalates in the capital and elsewhere.
I know my way of communal living is not for everybody. Some older people have no option but to live alone – or, if they can afford it, to be cared for in nursing homes. I feel very fortunate to live the way I do. I have friends who simply hate the idea of living with their offspring, or so they say. “I prefer not to lose my independence,”one cries. “I can do exactly what I want,” another says.
I understand their concerns, but exactly what they want to do in their 80s that requires them to live alone escapes me. For my part, I find that my enjoyment of life has not been curtailed: on the contrary, it has been enhanced.
When Katie and Killian bought a house in Phibsborough with a generous front room they asked me if I would like to live with them. We had spent time together before, and I got on well with my son-in-law and daughter, but this was still a big commitment for all of us.
I get my own breakfast and lunch. We eat together most evenings and take it in turn to cook. Well, not exactly equal turns because in truth I usually only do it once a week
After some consideration, I decided if they were prepared to have me as a permanent part of their lives, I would give it a go. We decided on a monthly amount I would pay towards expenses: food, electricity, gas, heating, etc. I don’t consider it rent, more a contribution to the household outgoings.
Once the decision was made for us to live together, a shower room and toilet was built under the stairs for my exclusive use, and I set about furnishing my room, which has a view on to the road in our quiet cul de sac.
My beautiful desk, together with an upmarket upholstered typing chair, are my pride and joy. I have a huge television which also acts as the monitor for my laptop. (My eyes are not great these days.) The rest of the furniture – wardrobe, easy chair, bookcase and cabinets – were purchased from that Swedish company down the road at no great cost.
I did splash out on a red fitted carpet from TC Matthews, much to the dismay of my housemates who had just installed a polished wooden floor. I told them, they can take up the carpet when I’m gone and the floor will be in pristine condition. I prefer to have warmth under my feet and there is less chance of my slipping.
My other big outlay was my bed which is one of those that elevates at the top or the bottom when I press a remote control.
I maintain the tiny front garden in which I have a window box and a trough for flowers. I potter there in the warm weather and enjoy the fruits of my labours through the window of my room.
There are advantages not only for me but the rest of my family in this arrangement. They know I am safe, secure and content.
I have had to minimise my possessions, and what a freeing experience that has been. Old papers referring to a bygone time are gone. Unnecessary reminders of a past life have been discarded. What a relief it will be for my children when all they have to deal with are three boxes labelled My life, My photographs and Miscellaneous. Now everything I own is in my room and each item is precious and, in the style of Marie Kondo, each brings me joy.
My ornaments, which to the informed eye would be worthless, are on a shelf out of reach of the children. Nothing special there – no Waterford glass or Dresden ladies – but each item has a special meaning for me. The porcelain lady in her bathing costume from Palafrugell, the little china dolls from Madrid, the onyx eggs from the Rock Shop in Co Clare and the variety of birds in different mediums because I told everyone one Christmas that I would like some feathered friends to add to my collection of knick knacks.
My daily routine starts with a cup of tea in bed – usually provided by my son-in-law, Killian. I get my own breakfast and lunch. We eat together most evenings and take it in turn to cook. Well, not exactly equal turns because in truth I usually only do it once a week. That suits me very well. For many years of my life I cooked meals for 10 on a daily basis, so am happy to relinquish my role as chef. I get out for a daily walk and sometimes Katie has to encourage me. “It will do you good,” she says.
I retire to my room each evening after dinner and read, listen to the radio or watch television, choosing whatever it is I want to watch or listen to. When my door is closed, no one comes in without knocking and my privacy is respected.
I have been living this way for eight years now and from my point of view the “experiment” has been successful. Of course, compromises have to be made along the way. I keep my distance when I sense conflict arising between my housemates and I try – but don’t always succeed – not to interfere with their parenting decisions.
Living with my grandchildren is a special joy for me. I love children, I had eight of my own, so I feel blessed to be living with three of my 18 grandchildren. I love to talk and play with them, read them stories and delight in their unconditional love.
As my health and mobility deteriorate, which they are bound to do, I will be cared for by two loving adults and their children. I hope I won’t become too much of a burden before I shuffle off this mortal coil. In any case, I have told them that if I become too bothersome they can move me on. In the meantime, I am grateful for the company, care and love I receive every day in my intergenerational mode of living. It might not work for everyone, but it definitely works for me.
Ann Ingle’s memoir, Openhearted, published by Penguin, was shortlisted in the Biography section of the An Post Irish Book Awards 2021
