Hints of pink and dusk on the silvery beach at Laytown, Co Meath, late this afternoon (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2011)Patrick Comerford
Today has been the Feastday of Saint Simon and Saint Jude. At the Eucharist in the chapel this morning I remembered in particular Justin Welby, the former Dean of Liverpool, who was being consecrated Bishop of Durham in York Cathedral this morning.
For Greeks, this is Ochi Day (Επέτειος του «'Οχι», Epeteios tou “'Ochi”), the day that recalls the «'Οχι» (‘No’) delivered by the Greek Prime Minister, Ioannis Metaxas, in response to the ultimatum presented by Mussolini on 28 October 1940. So many Greeks today must have been wondering about their own responses to ultimatums issued by neighbouring European powers and wondering where to draw on as their sources for resilience in the face of adversity and what must look like the closing of evening.
And this has been a momentous day in Irish politics, with the result in the Presidential election now a foregone conclusion. Although the first count came in late this evening, the count is likely to last well beyond tonight and into the morning.
There were streaks of pink and gold in the morning skies on my way into work. With rains and stormy weather threatening to return at the weekend, it was a good idea to head north to Laytown and Bettystown in Co Meath this afternoon for a walk on the lengthy expanse of beach that stretches east of the two villages as far as Mornington.
Although the tide was out, the sand was damp from recent rains and storms. Even the steps down to the beach betrayed signs of the high water mark earlier this week and underfoot, and so instead I walked along the footpath above the beach and the sea.
Late-ripening rosehips in the hedgerows above the beach at Laytown this afternoon (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2011)Children were leaving school dressed in their Halloween outfits, their parents delighting in the innocence of their little witches and vampires. In the hedgerows, there was still a rich store of late ripening rosehips, a sign surely that autumn has not yet fully vanished, even though the clocks return to winter time this weekend.
Thatch more typical of the Cape Coast than the Gold Coast of Co Meath (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2011)The regular gaps in houses provided inviting and tempting invitations back down onto the damp, sandy beach. Here and there was a thatched cottage – some looked as if they might be more at home on the Cape Coast than the “Gold Coast” of Co Meath.
A table by the window in Relish, looking down at the beach in Bettystown, Co Meath, this afternoon (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2011)Two of us stopped for late lunch at Relish in Bettystown, and were given a window seat, with unrivalled views of the beach and the sea.
We decided to walk back to Laytown along the beach. By now there were hints of a hesitant dusk, delayed by the pink streaks in the southern skies. The houses we had passed earlier in the afternoon were now reflected in the waters that had refused to go out with the tide and that were caught in the ripples and the hollows.
As we drove along the banks of the River Nanny, east of Laytown, two swans stood patiently at the very point I had seen two, and then three, herons last Friday. At the bridge at Julianstown, as we climbed up the road south of the Nanny Valley, I recalled how I had once been captivated by the beauty of this landscape as a 16-year-old schoolboy walking back to Gormanston.
The evening was closing in and I found I was singing to myself Henry Lyte’s hymn that we sang at Evensong yesterday:
Abide with me; fast falls the eventide;
the darkness deepens; Lord, with me abide.
When other helpers fail and comforts flee,
Help of the helpless, O abide with me.
Swift to its close ebbs out life’s little day;
earth’s joys grow dim; its glories pass away;
change and decay in all around I see;
O thou who changest not, abide with me.
I need thy presence every passing hour.
What but thy grace can foil the tempter’s power?
Who, like thyself, my guide and stay can be?
Through cloud and sunshine, Lord, abide with me.
I fear no foe, with thee at hand to bless;
ills have no weight, and tears not bitterness.
Where is death’s sting? Where, grave, thy victory?
I triumph still, if thou abide with me.
Hold thou thy cross before my closing eyes;
shine through the gloom and point me to the skies.
Heaven’s morning breaks, and earth’s vain shadows flee;
in life, in death, O Lord, abide with me.
I need thy presence every passing hour.
What but thy grace can foil the tempter’s power?
Who, like thyself, my guide and stay can be?
Through cloud and sunshine, Lord, abide with me.
I fear no foe, with thee at hand to bless;
Ills have no weight, and tears no bitterness.
Where is death’s sting? Where, grave, thy victory?
I triumph still, if Thou abide with me.
Hold thou thy cross before my closing eyes;
Shine through the gloom and point me to the skies.
Heaven’s morning breaks, and earth’s vain shadows flee;
In life, in death, O Lord, abide with me.
