When I think of Gallipoli, I think of Australia and New Zealand. Or at least that was the case until I visited the peninsula in 2019. Many more British and Irish soldiers died in Gallipoli than those from Australia or New Zealand. This was not a war fought in the defense of Australia or New Zealand. The Anzac did not bravely defend their own lands, but instead attacked those lands rightly belonging to Turkey.
Derry City has an historical legacy which is at the forefront of its tourism and also its image. These two elements crystallise around the Siege of Derry in 1689 and also the Civil Right’s movement of the 1960’s and the violence which came after. Memorials are not so good at keeping a low profile at a time of high emotions. But some memorials are more embraced than others.
Most of the time I feel war memorials have little to do with the horror of war and have more to do with the expected viewership and even planning laws. The International Sailor in Derry is a great example of compromise for a modern era. A away from the centre of a divided city – unlike the first war memorial when built in the Diamond in Derry 1927 – but includes a double section plinth which has the obvious temptation of being steps for one who wishes to take a photo of oneself along with the handsomely chiselled sculpture. Are war memorials more of a middle class thing, and dying-in-war more for the working class? Keep Reading
A brief visit to Delfshaven allowed me to linger along port side, and have an almost idyllic drink. The “almost” moment came as a consequence of being disturbed by a group of summer-time wasps, attracted to the nearby High Teas that came with multi-layered trays of mini-cakes.
Later I learned how tea was at the centre of that extraordinarily wealthy era of the Netherlands – the Golden Age. Perhaps the wasps are a symbol of the current debate in the Netherlands about how a once popular version of history can with hindsight be seen in controversial terms.
Monuments need to be reconsidered in order to see them in a fresh way. But as we have seen from other articles here, they are very much part of their time, and often related to tourism. The Spire was installed in Dublin in 2003, and was hated by more people than it was loved. Now sixteen years later, many Dubliners will walk past without noticing it – yes, even though it is 120 metres high. This summer I wanted to take some photos so I could rediscover the essence of what is the Spire.
While awaiting execution in Pentonville prison Sir Roger Casement sent a letter to his cousin Gertrude Bannister in which he wrote “Take my body back with you and let it lie in the old churchyard in Murlough Bay.”
This is a wonderful idea, but how did they get funding! A mixture of magic and the great outdoors produced a living breathing enigma which stretched across all of the UK, and even part of the Republic linking up to 1000 mileposts together in a cryptic puzzle. Most of these mileposts installed in the early years of the millenium are still standing though there is a need to maintain the network a bit better.
The Casino is located at Marino, next to the Malahide Road. It was designed by Sir William Chambers as a pleasure house for James Caulfield, 1st Earl of Charlemont. It is an example of 18th century neo-classical design. The Casino, meaning “small house”, contains a total of 16 finely decorated rooms.
An Cailín Ban stands high on north Sandymount Strand. This was created by Mexican artist Sebastian, who was born Enrique Carbajal González in 1947 and took on his pseudonym after Botticelli’s painting of St. Sebastian.
