Easter Rising

It's been in all the news – the commemorations in Ireland of the uprising in 1916 that started the roll towards independence. Part of the narrative has been about the beginning of the end for the British Empire. I find that intriguing, because I grew up knowing that the pink bits on the world map belonged to us, but I don't ever remember the notion that Ireland had once been part of it until it was lost to us. That part of history seemed to fall into a different category, and the relationship with Ireland of a different sort. Obviously not how the Irish saw it.

The uprising took many by surprise. The British, of course, but also even some involved with Irish nationalism in various ways, such as the poet W B Yeats. He gets an honourable mention for having been responsible for introducing me to my best beloved. Not directly, you understand, but because an interest in his poetry had given me an interest in the north-west of Ireland, which led to my meeting with this girl from Donegal who had also recently arrived to work in Edinburgh. So many moons ago…!

Today we were down on the beach at 7 a.m. with about 50 friends to celebrate the other Easter Rising. The original, if you like, and this one a great victory. Vindication for the central character and (a bit like 1916) the end for the occupying forces, even if they didn't all know it yet. Most of his fellow Jews believed that when God finally intervened to sort everything out, one of the accompanying events would be the physical resurrection of everyone who'd died for the cause. So when his followers started proclaiming that he had risen from the dead, three days after his crucifixion, the implication was obvious – God really had started to intervene, and what Jesus had done was how. No wonder you couldn't keep them quiet!

And you still can't. Down on the beach today it was cold and windy and the rain was beating down – but you should have heard the singing!