Commuter Counties Revisited: Co Meath:Heavy traffic, inadequate infrastructure, no secondary school – in 2003, the village of Ratoath had little to offer families, yet they still flocked there in their thousands. Seven years later things have improved, but progress came at a price
SEVEN YEARS ago, Ratoath was exploding. It also had aspirations. “You weren’t dealing with first-time buyers here. A lot would have been trading up from three-bed houses in places like Clonee,” says estate agent, Paul McConnon, himself a blow-in from Portmarnock. Over half were migrants from Dublin, trading up to spacious, airy homes within six miles of Blanchardstown.
But it was a raw place, lacking such basics as a playground, reliable transport, footpaths and a secondary school. Children’s activities at the community hall – “an old shed” according to Ratoath resident, Glaswegian John Scott – were hugely oversubscribed. The GAA, soccer and scouts facilities were at breaking point, said Fr Gerry Stuart. Lorries thundered past from Drogheda port, forcing parents into cars, negating that idyll of rural living in which children can roam safely.
In 2000, Scott, a project engineer, arrived from Glasgow with his wife and two children then aged six and eight. Ratoath was “affordable” compared to south Dublin but compared with the “much more mature infrastructure” left behind in Scotland, he saw “a third world country with a first world economy”. His son, Shane, went through his entire primary schooling in prefabs in Ratoath.
“Both children took a long time to settle . . . the style of teaching was almost archaic compared to Scotland. And the cultures are different. Kids of that age are very sensitive to difference,” Scott says. He remains astonished at the lobbying that had to be done for schools: “The Government tries to delegate responsibility, but not authority.”
Scott however, recognised that Ratoath still had something that is often absent in more organised communities: “It had a real sense of community. And what really impressed me was the sense of identity, the sense of place, that the Irish have. A lot of it – I discovered much later – was down to the GAA.”
Even in 2003, Ratoath had a lot of growing to do. More than 1,000 new houses were built over the following four years; planning permission was given for 282 more and a further 1,000 were on the cards. In 1971, the population was 369; by 2006, it was climbing towards 9,000, with many of that number leaving at dawn for the commute to Dublin city.
Carol and Barry Dougan had left Ashbourne for the large, airy house in a peaceful cul de sac in Ratoath with a big, safe green just outside. The price was Carol’s commute, 20 miles away in Ballsbridge. If she left home at 6.10am, she got there in 50 minutes. If she left at 8am, it took an hour and three-quarters.
Carol is still in the same job and says the the commute got “steadily better”. The network of roads has improved and – like everyone else – she notices fewer lorries on the road. She has been trying a new route, driving into Raheny with Barry – where he is an accountant with Harmonstown Motors (this takes 45 minutes, as they have to drop Hazel (10) to creche en route). She then gets the Dart to Lansdowne Road and walks around to her office on Shelbourne Road. In the evening, the travelling time is noticeably faster; they leave Raheny at 5.30pm, are in Ashbourne by 6pm to collect Hazel from creche and the family is normally home by 6.15pm.
Ratoath itself has also seen huge improvements, the Dougans say. “Seven years ago, what we had was one overcrowded school, no secondary school, a soccer club, a run-down community centre, and a bad bus service. David [their son, now 24] would say that the move here was difficult for him as there was little to do in Ratoath at the time. The soccer club was it. There wasn’t even a bus service to Blanchardstown.
“Now, there’s a fairly good road system, two primary schools and a third on the way, a secondary school, a playground, a scout den, a fabulous GAA club. There’s soccer, rugby and tennis. We have a lovely community centre that provides great entertainment, although this is geared more towards the adults than the teenagers. Niall [who is 15] is going to the community school – which wasn’t available for David – and can get to Ashbourne and Blanchardstown now on the bus. Everything is there that you could want.”
The Dougans have no regrets. Barry, born in Kilbarrack, says he wouldn’t go back now. “From the point of view of bringing up kids, I wouldn’t change a thing. Kids are visible here no matter where they go. They don’t have as many distractions as in the city, where there are more chances of getting involved in things they shouldn’t. For the sake of the kids, I wouldn’t change it.”
And for himself? Seven years ago, he was chafing a bit at the “hassle” involved in socialising in the city after work on a Friday, when public transport made it unpredictable. “Ah, you can work your way around it,” he says now. “The last bus to Ratoath is at 11pm. If you’re any later, you’d get the bus to Ashbourne and a taxi from there.”
There are things they would still like to see, but nothing exceptional: a cafe/drop-in place for teenagers maybe; better still, a job for David, a qualified electrician who was laid off in February last year, currently doing an energy efficiency course with Fás but thinking about heading to Australia.
Whatever about the job for David, a teens’ hang-out centre for Ratoath is well under way, to be sited in the community centre’s carpark, “run by youth for youth” in the words of John Scott, and sorely needed in a community where a third of the population was under 14 in the 2006 census.
Cllr Nick Killian, manager of the bright, buzzy new community centre with its modern theatre, well-run cafe and activity rooms, was a man busy wringing concessions and contributions from developers when we last met, looks back with a mixture of satisfaction and regret.
“The social infrastructure has kept pace with what was needed,” he says, mentioning the new post-primary school, the junior and senior primary schools under construction, the footpaths – “a five year battle” – the big GAA centre and other clubs on the fine sports campus, and the highly successful 12-unit centre for independent living.
He talks with pride of the unemployed men involved in start-ups, such as Growing Together (growingtogether.ie), a smart idea offering vegetable plots and recreational facilities within a secure “family park”.
THERE IS NO RESTING ON LAURELS, however. Killian, Scott and Fr Stuart all separately mention the lack of a business park and some kind of retail heart to the village.
Meanwhile, a prime example of the unregulated nature of the boom lies in the large, ugly hoarding that obscures a run of pretty retail units at Rathoath’s centre. The legal basis by which such an eyesore can be left to blight a little village indefinitely is questioned by all.
It’s been a fast and furious ride through the years; years of constant nagging and nudging and fighting for facilities, says Killian. Given a time machine, would he allow that scale of development to happen again?
“No. I’d have stopped it in 2005, when there were 24 estates,” he says. It wound up at 32. “I suppose it’s the way they were built and the quality of some of them. And I’d criticise my own naivety in how we handled the builders. We didn’t plan our village; we didn’t allow it to develop as it should. We just went with the flow. Even the design of the shops – the council just went with what the developers wanted. We lost sight of what was good in planning and I’m as culpable as anyone.”
