Welcome to Weld’s — the local pub run by four generations of landladies.
At a time when shutters of many Irish country pubs are coming down, this Kildare premises is going stronger than ever.
In fact, it’s the only one left in the village of Robertstown, which used to be home to five pubs.
Its secret? Girl power.
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In an industry that is predominantly male, Weld’s stands out as having been run by women for over a century.
The series of landladies at the helm began 130 years ago with Kathleen Herbert, followed by her niece Mary Rose, who passed it to daughter Carmel, who will now be succeeded by daughter Helen.
Today’s boss — psychiatric nurse Helen Keenan (32) — gave her family a pleasant surprise when she announced post-pandemic she was leaving nursing to put her name on Weld’s licence.
She had always helped out behind the bar of the pub, which belongs to her mother Carmel.
“None of us saw it coming and she shocked the whole lot of us,” says Carmel.
“She said: ‘Mammy, I’ve a mad idea’. I said to my husband Christy — ‘she’s going to do the pub.’
“I told her: ‘you’ll be brilliant at it’ — and she is. Like a duck to water.
“A fine business head on her, like my mammy Mary Rose,” she said.
Hanging pride of place over the blazing turf fire is a portrait of Kathleen Sullivan — nee Herbert — where the story started.
Originally opened as a one-roomed thatched premises in 1850, Kathleen was 16 when her uncle Thomas gave her his pub in 1893.
Back then, it was also a hardware and drapery before Kathleen added a grocery.
Mary Rose — who is just shy of her 98th birthday — has worked in the pub since she was 10 years old and still pulls the perfect pint.
She gave the pub’s history to The Mirror when we visited last week.
“Kathleen’s uncle Thomas stayed with her for two years until she could get her licence at 18,” says Mary Rose.
“Lots of things were left to boys then but Thomas had no children and Kathleen was his favourite.
“She was a very independent woman. She bought a 90-acre farm after. She loved land and was good in business.”
Kathleen and her husband had no kids so the pub went to niece Mary Rose when Kathleen died in 1962.
Mary Rose lived with her aunt and uncle as a girl and was like a daughter to them, helping out in the pub and grocery.
Mum-of-five Mary Rose ran the shop and pub “like a tight ship”, says Carmel.
Her husband Charlie Weld ran his cattle farm by day and helped Mary Rose in the pub at night.
“Mammy had a brilliant business brain,” says Carmel. “I’d say she could still rattle off her Guinness’s account number.
“She used to add up everything in her head and divide and multiply cost prices and VAT on everything in the shop, just like that,” adds Carmel, clicking her fingers.
“She always wanted to go to boarding school; she could have run the country.”
Mary Rose still lives nearby, where she runs her home just as efficiently.
She’s up and down out of her armchair to top up the open fire and kitchen range with turf and, mid-chat, excuses herself to peel spuds in the kitchen.
As for how to run a pub well, she says having the right punters is key.
“You need to keep lovely people,” she explains.
“If anyone gives trouble and keeps that up — out. You have to bar them. I often did. I stop arguments and if it goes too far, get rid.
“A big part of it is getting on with different people.”
As a psychiatric nurse, current landlady Helen often worked 8am to 9pm at Naas General Hospital before bar-maiding till the early hours.
Weld’s is still a family affair. On busy days like Cheltenham or Paddy’s Day, Helen’s sister Orlagh (29) takes days off from her job as a junior doctor at the Mater Hospital in Dublin to help in the bar.
Cousin Jill, a fourth-year UCD veterinary student, works weekends.
“They say they’d have more craic here than out socialising with all the characters coming in,” Carmel laughs.
Mary Rose muses: “Pubs are scarce now as they can’t get staff, but Helen has the family.
“You’ve to be good at dealing with different people. I always enjoyed it.
“You have to be sensible with money — it doesn’t go far. The oil is getting out of hand — €1.20 a litre now. I keep my fires topped up.”
Helen, who worked in Larine House, a high-support hostel, in Maynooth, for the last year of the pandemic, reveals: “I didn’t have an inkling of going into it [the pub] before the pandemic.
“I surprised myself when I started thinking about it. It all started making sense. I was a bit burnt out after Covid.
“The craic and banter went out of nursing, it was very isolating. We still had masks, social distancing and rules constantly changing.
“Staff breaks, the chat — that was all gone and it really affected morale.
“I thought I’d miss nursing, but not one bit. I would have before the pandemic but it changed so much. Now I almost forget I was a nurse.”
But running a family pub is just as much a vocation.
Carmel pointed out: “In a country pub, you have to be there all the time yourself. On Paddy’s Day I did 14 hours with not a five-minute break. It’s tough.”
Helen, no stranger to seven 12-hour night shifts in a row while nursing, remembers: “When me and mammy told Nana, she was in her chair and clapped her hands together and got really emotional.”
Mary Rose beams: “I’m delighted. She’s very capable. It’s so long in the family for all those years, so it’s important to keep it going.”
Carmel says: “I thought I might have to get rid of the pub. Now Helen’s running it. It’s like it was meant to be.”
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