Teach an Chustaim

And so, back to Ireland.

I've had real doubts about the original photo I used - a banal shot of Dublin's Custom House in the sun, and so have switched it with the original extra. And I can keep the same title, because Custom House works just as well for my visit chez les Raheny.

Had a fantastic day in Dublin. Slept fitfully (the lack of alarm clock meant I had to use my laptop as an alarm and I didn't trust it) but managed to make my 7 a.m. flight from Liverpool.

The sun was shining on this, Dublin's annual day of sunshine, and I had a whole day to kill before meeting Raheny_Eye at 4.30 outside the Tara Station. 

First off was Trinity College Dublin. Obviously the Book of Kells was high on my list of things to see, but it had been replaced by a facsimile of sorts while repairs were being undertaken on the Reading Room. But I went in nonetheless. And was bloody glad I did - the Reading Room was amazing. I'd seen images of it before, of course, it is pretty much omnipresent on North American TV, but the sense of serenity was quite stunning. I was far from alone in the room, but you could have heard a pin drop. Mouths were open, necks craned, footsteps cushioned. 

Thence on for a walk around the city before checking in to the Seamus Heaney "Now Listen Again" exhibition at the Bank of Ireland Cultural and Heritage Centre at College Green. I'd walked past it a couple of times before I went in - and to be honest, only went in because I was dying for a pee and didn't want to spend 5 Euros on a coffee to do so. In the end, I got so caught up in the exhibition, I forgot to go - and had to double back after having left.

I'm a recent convert to Heaney - and only really got into him after reading his rendering/translation of Beowulf, which was majestic. But I'm catching up - and this superb, manageable exhibition, provided a human context to his works. I'm a real sucker for the human side of writers; I love seeing their notes, post cards, inscriptions, and Christmas cards - the desks on which they wrote, the inspiration they get from mundane objects or views. This gave me all I needed in this area, and also a good deal of schooling in Heaney's views on the British presence in Ireland.

One day - and it might be soon - there will be a great reckoning within England about the role of colonialism. Consider this: I went through the whole school system - even studying History to "A" Level - and was never once taught about or asked to consider what the impact of British colonial expansion was on the people being subjected to it. Of course, I never questioned it at the time (although maybe people smarter than me did) and after I left any pretence at studying history behind, it sort of just sat there as an acquired "fact": Colonialism was benign.

I write that with an incredible sense of shame. How could any human being with any sense of self-worth not realise what colonialism did? Heaney may well have written Noli Timere, but ultimately only the truth sets you free - and the fear the English have of the truth is quite something to behold.

In fact, in my humble opinion, that fear of the truth has been one of the direct causes of Brexit, which is an epic, unprecedented case of national self-harm. By not understanding (a) what they did through colonialism and what its consequences were, (b) what other nations think of them, (c) how the brief moments of technological superiority in the period after the Industrial Revolution were responsible for their expansion success - rather than any innate natural superiority, the English have wandered into a situation that will ultimately finish off the Union and destroy their economy.

In the future, this will be the definition of karma in every single dictionary in the world. 

After that, I needed a pint, so wandered around looking for a suitable bar. Unbelievably, I couldn't find one that appealed to me, so I went for a coffee near Merrion Square before heading to the National Gallery for another shufti around. 

And then it was time: so I walked back along the Liffey to the station, wandering over the bridge to the Custom House, before realising that I really did want a pint, and made my way to Kennedy's bar to wait for the arrival of Raheny's finest.

We travelled to Dun Laoghaire on the world's slowest fast train, before being wined and dined and schooled by various members of the family. Always a pleasure being in such a group. 

I got them to pose for my photographic equivalent of Millais' Christ in the House of His Parents , which I think I should call something else.... but quite what escapes me.

Also:

The Rahenies get Ottawacked!