Santa Lucia alla Badia, a baroque-style church near the Cathedral of Syracuse, is said to stand on the site where Saint Lucy was martyred (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)
Patrick Comerford
We are in Ordinary Time in the Church Calendar, and the week began with the Twentieth Sunday after Trinity (Trinity XX, 22 October 2023). The Church Calendar today (25 October 2023) remembers Saint Crispin and Saint Crispinian (ca 287), Martyrs at Rome.
Before today begins, I am taking some time for prayer and reflection early this morning.
My reflections on the Week of Prayer for World Peace concluded on Sunday, and my reflections each morning for the rest of this week are following this pattern:
1, A reflection on a church or cathedral in Sicily;
2, the Gospel reading of the day in the Church of England lectionary;
3, a prayer from the USPG prayer diary.
Santa Lucia alla Badia and the Cathedral of Syracuse (left) on the Piazza Duomo on the island of Ortigia in the historic centre of Syracuse (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)
Santa Lucia alla Badia, Syracuse:
Santa Lucia alla Badia is a baroque-style church on the south corner of the Piazza Duomo, close the Cathedral of Syracuse, on the island of Ortigia in the historic centre of the city in Sicily. The church and former convent next door are now the venue for exhibitions and functions.
Saint Lucy was a third century martyr from Syracuse whose feast day is celebrated on 13 December. She is known as the protector of eyes. The church is said to stand on the site where Saint Lucy was martyred.
The church and the Benedictine convent have been on the site since at least by the mid-15th century, under the patronage or Queen Isabella of Spain. There is no documentation on the church and convent before her reign, and she may have only refurbished them.
From the mid-15th century the church and convent played an important place in the life of the city, because of its position in Ortigia and because of its connection with Saint Lucy, the patron saint of Syracuse.
Caravaggio’s painting the ‘Burial of Saint Lucy’ was originally painted for the Church of Santa Lucia al Sepolcro. It was moved to this church for a time, and is one of the last works by Michelangelo Merisi (1571-1610), known as Caravaggio.
Caravaggio spent the last three tragic years of his life in Sicily, having fled Malta. During this brief period, he was commissioned to paint the ‘Burial of Santa Lucy,’ and he completed the work in just over a month. It is possible to interpret the work as autobiographical, with the artist trying to bury his tormented pain with the saint’s body.
The church is also associated with a miracle in 1646 attributed to Saint Lucy. During a time of famine, a large crowd gathered to pray to Saint Lucy, when a dove alighted on the bishop’s throne, announcing the arrival of ships with a cargo of food, which the crew exchanged for hospitality.
For centuries, on the first Sunday of every May, the nuns in the convent celebrated the festival of the ‘Quails of Santa Lucia’ (Santa Lucia delle Quaglie), when the nuns released doves and quails from the balcony of the church. A modified ceremony is still re-enacted in the Piazza del Duomo during the Festa di Santa Lucia in December.
The convent and church were destroyed by the earthquake that devastated Sicily in 1693. The original façade may have been part of an east-west orientation of the church, overlooking the narrow Via Picherali. The church was rebuilt between 1695 and 1703 to designs by the architect Luciano Caracciolo. The façade was then moved to face the Piazza Duomo, the venue for many religious celebrations.
The tall façade is entirely made of clear limestone, with a wrought-iron balcony that divides it into two levels. The Baroque doorway is flanked by two spiralling Solomonic columns, and topped by an arched pediment with carved symbols of the martyrdom of Santa Lucy, the patron of Syracuse, including a column, a sword, a palm and a crown. The frieze reads In Honorem Sanctae Luciae Vir. & Mar. Siracusana.
To the sides, above two flanking niches, are the coat of arms of the Spanish monarchy during the rule of Phillip V in 1705, including the symbols of the kingdoms of Leon (lion), Castilla (castle), Aragon (vertical stripes) and Sicily (eagles and stripes).
The cloistered nuns used the elaborate metal balcony on the second floor to watch religious processions and celebrations in the piazza without mingling with the people below.
Inside the church, a single nave leads to an apse with the dome. On the side walls of the nave stand 12 projecting columns with four Baroque altars. The apse is an octagonal space as large as the nave, with the altar settled in the middle.
The decorative stucco work is by Biagio Bianco of Licodia in 1705, and some of it was gilded in the late 18th century. The church was embellished and enriched in work carried out in 1783, including the decoration of the vault with the ‘Triumph of Santa Lucia,’ a fresco by Deodato Guinaccia depicting the miracle of Saint Lucy in 1646.
A reliquary made of silver was completed by Francesco Tuccio in 1726. On the right is an altarpiece by Giuseppe Reati, depicting the ‘Miracle of Saint Francis of Paola’ (1641). Other treasures in the church include two 14th century wooden crucifixes.
The church was damaged structurally during World War II, the original metal balcony was dismantled for military uses, and the metal cross once at the top was removed because of its instability. After the war, the church was rebuilt to replicate the earlier interiors in the late Baroque style. The tile flooring of the nave was damaged by dampness and was replaced in 1970 with quadrangular majolica-painted tiles in the style of the original 18th century flooring.
The convent to the east and south of the church extended down to Piazzetta San Rocco. The cloistered nuns used an oval parlour beside the church to meet family members.
Caravaggio’s painting was moved from the church and was long exhibited in the museum of Palazzo Bellomo and then in the Church of Saint Lucy al Sepolcro before being returned to Santa Lucia alla Badia in 2009. Its subsequent moves have been controversial, and the place it once had behind the altar is now filled by a painting of Saint Lucy by Deodato Guinaccia.
As for the body of Saint Lucy, it was stolen from Syracuse in 1039 and again from Constantinople in 1204, when it was taken to Venice. At first, her body was kept in the church of San Giorgio Maggiore, opposite Saint Mark’s Square. Boats carrying pilgrims from Syracuse in 1279 capsized in rough seas, and some pilgrims were drowned. Her relics were then transferred her relics to a church in Cannaregio. This church was named Santa Lucia and was rebuilt by Andrea Palladio in 1580.
When Palladio’s church was demolished to make way for the new railway station, her body was moved to San Geremia in 1861. The train station is still named Santa Lucia. The façade of San Geremia facing the Grand Canal has a large inscription: ‘Saint Lucia, Virgin of Siracusa, rests in peace in this church. You inspire a bright future and peace for Italy and the entire World.’
The Baroque doorway of the church is flanked by two spiralling Solomonic columns and topped by an arched pediment with carved symbols of the martyrdom of Santa Lucy (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)
Luke 12: 39-48 (NRSVA):
[Jesus said:] 39 ‘But know this: if the owner of the house had known at what hour the thief was coming, he would not have let his house be broken into. 40 You also must be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an unexpected hour.’
41 Peter said, ‘Lord, are you telling this parable for us or for everyone?’ 42 And the Lord said, ‘Who then is the faithful and prudent manager whom his master will put in charge of his slaves, to give them their allowance of food at the proper time? 43 Blessed is that slave whom his master will find at work when he arrives. 44 Truly I tell you, he will put that one in charge of all his possessions. 45 But if that slave says to himself, “My master is delayed in coming”, and if he begins to beat the other slaves, men and women, and to eat and drink and get drunk, 46 the master of that slave will come on a day when he does not expect him and at an hour that he does not know, and will cut him in pieces, and put him with the unfaithful. 47 That slave who knew what his master wanted, but did not prepare himself or do what was wanted, will receive a severe beating. 48 But one who did not know and did what deserved a beating will receive a light beating. From everyone to whom much has been given, much will be required; and from one to whom much has been entrusted, even more will be demanded.’
The cloistered nuns used the elaborate metal balcony on the second floor to watch religious processions and celebrations in the piazza without mingling with the people below (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)
Today’s Prayers: USPG Prayer Diary:
The theme this week in ‘Pray With the World Church,’ the Prayer Diary of the Anglican mission agency USPG (United Society Partners in the Gospel), is ‘Praying for Peace.’ This theme was introduced on Sunday with a prayer written by the Revd Tuomas Mäkipää, Chaplain of Saint Nicholas.
The USPG Prayer Diary today (25 October 2023) invites us to pray in these words:
Let us pray for peace throughout the world. For an end to all conflicts including the Ukraine.
The Collect:
God, the giver of life,
whose Holy Spirit wells up within your Church:
by the Spirit’s gifts equip us to live the gospel of Christ
and make us eager to do your will,
that we may share with the whole creation
the joys of eternal life;
through Jesus Christ your Son our Lord,
who is alive and reigns with you,
in the unity of the Holy Spirit,
one God, now and for ever.
The Post Communion Prayer:
God our Father,
whose Son, the light unfailing,
has come from heaven to deliver the world
from the darkness of ignorance:
let these holy mysteries open the eyes of our understanding
that we may know the way of life,
and walk in it without stumbling;
through Jesus Christ our Lord.
Yesterday’s Reflection
Continued Tomorrow
The body of Saint Lucy in a shrine in the Chiesa di Santi Geremia a Lucia in Venice (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)
Scripture quotations are from the New Revised Standard Version Bible: Anglicised Edition copyright © 1989, 1995, National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide. http://nrsvbibles.org
Saint Lucy is depicted on the entrance to the Chiesa di Santi Geremia a Lucia facing Campo San Geremia in Venice (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)
25 October 2023
My old school in
Gormanston plans
a new build that is
more than a facelift
The school buildings at Gormanston College are typical of mid-1950s architecture … are they about to go? (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)
Patrick Comerford
I am like anyone and everyone who went to school in Ireland, I imagine, having regular dreams in which I dread looming ‘Leaving Cert’ exams, in my case in Irish, Maths and Science.
Despite my parents’ best efforts to bring my Irish up to scratch, including sending me for a month in the Kerry Gaeltacht in Ballinskelligs, I managed to scrape through barely with a pass on a pass paper in Irish. Precocious teenager that I was, I had learned more about French kissing than Irish grammar that summer in the mid-1960s.
Despite my eldest brother’s best efforts to bring my Maths up to scratch – he was six years ahead of me in Gormanston and studied maths at UCG, UCD and then at PhD level in Duke University, North Caroline – I managed to scrape through with a bare pass on a pass paper. I still wonder whether I am barely functional when it comes to numeracy skills.
Despite everyone’s best efforts to bring my science up to scratch – although there was no music at home, not even a record player, there were a number of chemistry sets – I managed to scrape through with a flimsy pass on a pass paper that combined both chemistry and physics. I still remember the poor benighted science teacher who asked me to leave the lab when I turned up wearing a poppy in my jacket in November and when I compounded his exasperation by my failure to grasp what he was saying about the periodic table.
I had been in the A stream throughout primary school. By the time I was sitting the ‘Leaving Cert’ I had slipped back to the C stream, and was taking some subjects in the D stream. My teachers seemed to have more confidence in my potential than I showed at exam time. Had there been exams in drama or debating, say, I might have left school with more than two honours (the equivalent of two A Levels). I console myself that English and Geography represent one arts and one science subject, but who counts up an additional six passes?
I still have dystopian dreams about missing classes and failing exams (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)
I still have occasional dreams – perhaps everyone else does too – in which I fret about not having prepared adequately for those end-of-school exams. Irish was compulsory in schools in those days, and a fail mark meant failing the whole gamut of exams that year. To fail maths would have been an embarrassment for my brother who had tried but failed to coach me in his chosen subject.
I got a summer job with an insurance company in Dublin when I finished the exams that year. Failure would mean going back to school to repeat another year. When I rang the school to hear my results, my favourite teacher told me assuringly that my results were good enough (as thy were in those days) to get into university and to do anything except medicine or dentistry.
But in recurring dreams, I still find myself running along the school corridors in Gormanston, barging into the wrong classroom, or feeling numbed by the realisation of the consequences of missing yet another Irish class because I have let time flit away in the art room or the music room.
With my 6C stream on the main steps at Gormanston in 1969
Now, it seems, those classrooms, science labs, art rooms, music rooms, even the school chapel and the sports pavilions are to be no more. Am I going to have to change the locations in those dreams, or are they too indelibly etched in the caverns of my mind and in memories that have been consolidated over more than half a century?
All those questions surface now that I hear that the go-ahead has been given for a new school building at Gormanston College after an appeal against the decision of Meath County Council to grant permission was rejected by An Bord Pleanála.
When I was there, Gormanston was a private, fee-paying boarding school with about 400 boys aged from 12 to 18. The facilities included a school chapel, a language laboratory, music rooms and art rooms, football pitches, athletic tracks, ball alleys, tennis courts, a swimming pool, a gym, a theatre, a sports pavilion and a nine-hole golf course.
Few of us probably realised in the 1960s how privileged we were. Yet most of us probably realised we were part of the next generation of leadership in many fields of Irish life, including business, politics, the arts, public administration, agriculture, sport, journalism, medicine and academic and church life. Many of my year still keep in touch through a What’s App group.
The school was built beside Gormanston Castle in the mid-1950s (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)
The main school building beside Gormanston Castle is a protected structure, built in 1956 in cast iron and concrete in a style that is typical of the mid-20th century. It is a multiple-bay, four-storey school, built around two central courtyards inspired by English public schools or the courts or quads of a university college. The two-storey projecting granite framed entrance, where we stood on the steps for class and year photographs, is an imposing and interesting feature with the steps leading up to the timber panelled double doors set in glazed entrance.
The design and detail of the sports pavilion, with its clock tower and the viewing gallery overlooking the playing fields, was also built ca 1956 and it too is said to be representative of architectural design in the mid-20th century.
The school chapel is said to have been inspired by Coventry Cathedral, which was being built at the same time. The details include the breakfront entrance, the angled concrete panels and windows, the stained glass windows and the etched glazed doors, all making it a mini-replica of Sir Basil Spence’s cathedral in Coventry.
The school chapel is said to have been inspired by Coventry Cathedral (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)
The first boarders arrived at Gormanston Castle in 1954 and the new college officially opened in 1956. My brother arrived at Gormanston as a schoolboy in 1959 and I followed in the 1960s. We were happy there, but we were never there at the same time.
. On the night before 1 April 1969, some of my year group climbed the water tower by one of the ball alleys and hung an effigy for all the school community to see on waking the next morning. The whole escapade was shrouded in secrecy and the instigators of the prank remain unnamed.
A lot has changed since then. The school moved from being a fee-paying school to the free school scheme in 2014, and today Gormanston is a state-run co-educational school under the patronage of the Franciscan order, catering for 430 pupils.
Change has also meant progress, but now the school’s board of management says the existing 1950s school buildings is not ‘suitable for continued use as a school. The existing building is no longer fit for purpose.’
It is planning new school buildings, and wants to build a state-of-the-art, purpose-built school that can cater for up to 1,000 pupils. The new two-storey, 37-classroom building with a total floor area of 10,753 sq m is to be built on the opposite side of the road to Gormanston College and Gormanston Castle.
The local newspaper, the Drogheda Independent, reported last month that the plans include a general-purpose hall, a multi-use hall, a special needs unit, library, staff rooms and photovoltaic roof panels. There are plans too for three grass sports pitches, five hard surface ball courts, outdoor seating and breakout areas, a sensory garden, a tech yard, new landscaping, 96 car parking spaces and 360 cycle parking spaces.
What changes are ringing for the future of the school buildings in Gormanston? (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)
The planning application coincides with the transfer of ownership of the school’s proposed new site from the Franciscans to the Educena Foundation, in anticipation of a new school becoming built. The school does not own the site of the existing school, and instead is a long-term tenant. The redevelopment and refurbishment of the existing school is complicated by the fact that Gormanston Castle and the school buildings are protected structures
A resident of Gormanston who appealed the county council’s decision to An Bord Pleanála claimed the existing school building ‘would be permanently used to house refugees, which would double the population of Gormanston.’
However, the school board points out that the preliminary surveys and assessments of the site ‘were carried out in 2021, which pre-dates the invasion of Ukraine.’ They say ‘this matter is of no relevance to the assessment of the development.’
I have no idea what the future holds for those buildings that I can recall in detail in my dreams, including the classrooms, the study halls, the dormitories, the refectory, the corridors, the staircases and the school chapel.
One Lord Gormanston is said to have created the sculpted yew walk as a triangular-shaped cloister to appease his daughter and dissuade her from becoming a nun (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)
As schoolboys we dared each other to listen at night for the baying of foxes on the lawn in front of the castle that was said to precede the death of a memberf of the Preston family. The supersition gave its name to the student-produced magazine, Tally-Ho!
What is going to happen to the trees lining Cromwell’s Avenue or the cloister-like yew walks where we were forbidden to go for fear we set them alight while smoking?
What does the future hold for the monks’ graveyard or the once carefully tended and manicured greens of the golf course?
But, perhaps, the 1950s buildings, including the dormitories, class rooms and refectory, could provide ideal accommodation for Ukrainian refugee families. It would fit in with the Franciscan values that have been at the heart of the school for decades.
I can just imagine a future generation of Ukrainians having recurring dystopian dreams, running through those corridors, anxious about missing classes and worried that they are going to fail their final exams in science, maths – or even Irish.
The stained glass in the college chapel … inspired by the glass in Coventry Cathedrsl (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)
Patrick Comerford
I am like anyone and everyone who went to school in Ireland, I imagine, having regular dreams in which I dread looming ‘Leaving Cert’ exams, in my case in Irish, Maths and Science.
Despite my parents’ best efforts to bring my Irish up to scratch, including sending me for a month in the Kerry Gaeltacht in Ballinskelligs, I managed to scrape through barely with a pass on a pass paper in Irish. Precocious teenager that I was, I had learned more about French kissing than Irish grammar that summer in the mid-1960s.
Despite my eldest brother’s best efforts to bring my Maths up to scratch – he was six years ahead of me in Gormanston and studied maths at UCG, UCD and then at PhD level in Duke University, North Caroline – I managed to scrape through with a bare pass on a pass paper. I still wonder whether I am barely functional when it comes to numeracy skills.
Despite everyone’s best efforts to bring my science up to scratch – although there was no music at home, not even a record player, there were a number of chemistry sets – I managed to scrape through with a flimsy pass on a pass paper that combined both chemistry and physics. I still remember the poor benighted science teacher who asked me to leave the lab when I turned up wearing a poppy in my jacket in November and when I compounded his exasperation by my failure to grasp what he was saying about the periodic table.
I had been in the A stream throughout primary school. By the time I was sitting the ‘Leaving Cert’ I had slipped back to the C stream, and was taking some subjects in the D stream. My teachers seemed to have more confidence in my potential than I showed at exam time. Had there been exams in drama or debating, say, I might have left school with more than two honours (the equivalent of two A Levels). I console myself that English and Geography represent one arts and one science subject, but who counts up an additional six passes?
I still have dystopian dreams about missing classes and failing exams (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)
I still have occasional dreams – perhaps everyone else does too – in which I fret about not having prepared adequately for those end-of-school exams. Irish was compulsory in schools in those days, and a fail mark meant failing the whole gamut of exams that year. To fail maths would have been an embarrassment for my brother who had tried but failed to coach me in his chosen subject.
I got a summer job with an insurance company in Dublin when I finished the exams that year. Failure would mean going back to school to repeat another year. When I rang the school to hear my results, my favourite teacher told me assuringly that my results were good enough (as thy were in those days) to get into university and to do anything except medicine or dentistry.
But in recurring dreams, I still find myself running along the school corridors in Gormanston, barging into the wrong classroom, or feeling numbed by the realisation of the consequences of missing yet another Irish class because I have let time flit away in the art room or the music room.
With my 6C stream on the main steps at Gormanston in 1969
Now, it seems, those classrooms, science labs, art rooms, music rooms, even the school chapel and the sports pavilions are to be no more. Am I going to have to change the locations in those dreams, or are they too indelibly etched in the caverns of my mind and in memories that have been consolidated over more than half a century?
All those questions surface now that I hear that the go-ahead has been given for a new school building at Gormanston College after an appeal against the decision of Meath County Council to grant permission was rejected by An Bord Pleanála.
When I was there, Gormanston was a private, fee-paying boarding school with about 400 boys aged from 12 to 18. The facilities included a school chapel, a language laboratory, music rooms and art rooms, football pitches, athletic tracks, ball alleys, tennis courts, a swimming pool, a gym, a theatre, a sports pavilion and a nine-hole golf course.
Few of us probably realised in the 1960s how privileged we were. Yet most of us probably realised we were part of the next generation of leadership in many fields of Irish life, including business, politics, the arts, public administration, agriculture, sport, journalism, medicine and academic and church life. Many of my year still keep in touch through a What’s App group.
The school was built beside Gormanston Castle in the mid-1950s (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)
The main school building beside Gormanston Castle is a protected structure, built in 1956 in cast iron and concrete in a style that is typical of the mid-20th century. It is a multiple-bay, four-storey school, built around two central courtyards inspired by English public schools or the courts or quads of a university college. The two-storey projecting granite framed entrance, where we stood on the steps for class and year photographs, is an imposing and interesting feature with the steps leading up to the timber panelled double doors set in glazed entrance.
The design and detail of the sports pavilion, with its clock tower and the viewing gallery overlooking the playing fields, was also built ca 1956 and it too is said to be representative of architectural design in the mid-20th century.
The school chapel is said to have been inspired by Coventry Cathedral, which was being built at the same time. The details include the breakfront entrance, the angled concrete panels and windows, the stained glass windows and the etched glazed doors, all making it a mini-replica of Sir Basil Spence’s cathedral in Coventry.
The school chapel is said to have been inspired by Coventry Cathedral (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)
The first boarders arrived at Gormanston Castle in 1954 and the new college officially opened in 1956. My brother arrived at Gormanston as a schoolboy in 1959 and I followed in the 1960s. We were happy there, but we were never there at the same time.
. On the night before 1 April 1969, some of my year group climbed the water tower by one of the ball alleys and hung an effigy for all the school community to see on waking the next morning. The whole escapade was shrouded in secrecy and the instigators of the prank remain unnamed.
A lot has changed since then. The school moved from being a fee-paying school to the free school scheme in 2014, and today Gormanston is a state-run co-educational school under the patronage of the Franciscan order, catering for 430 pupils.
Change has also meant progress, but now the school’s board of management says the existing 1950s school buildings is not ‘suitable for continued use as a school. The existing building is no longer fit for purpose.’
It is planning new school buildings, and wants to build a state-of-the-art, purpose-built school that can cater for up to 1,000 pupils. The new two-storey, 37-classroom building with a total floor area of 10,753 sq m is to be built on the opposite side of the road to Gormanston College and Gormanston Castle.
The local newspaper, the Drogheda Independent, reported last month that the plans include a general-purpose hall, a multi-use hall, a special needs unit, library, staff rooms and photovoltaic roof panels. There are plans too for three grass sports pitches, five hard surface ball courts, outdoor seating and breakout areas, a sensory garden, a tech yard, new landscaping, 96 car parking spaces and 360 cycle parking spaces.
What changes are ringing for the future of the school buildings in Gormanston? (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)
The planning application coincides with the transfer of ownership of the school’s proposed new site from the Franciscans to the Educena Foundation, in anticipation of a new school becoming built. The school does not own the site of the existing school, and instead is a long-term tenant. The redevelopment and refurbishment of the existing school is complicated by the fact that Gormanston Castle and the school buildings are protected structures
A resident of Gormanston who appealed the county council’s decision to An Bord Pleanála claimed the existing school building ‘would be permanently used to house refugees, which would double the population of Gormanston.’
However, the school board points out that the preliminary surveys and assessments of the site ‘were carried out in 2021, which pre-dates the invasion of Ukraine.’ They say ‘this matter is of no relevance to the assessment of the development.’
I have no idea what the future holds for those buildings that I can recall in detail in my dreams, including the classrooms, the study halls, the dormitories, the refectory, the corridors, the staircases and the school chapel.
One Lord Gormanston is said to have created the sculpted yew walk as a triangular-shaped cloister to appease his daughter and dissuade her from becoming a nun (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)
As schoolboys we dared each other to listen at night for the baying of foxes on the lawn in front of the castle that was said to precede the death of a memberf of the Preston family. The supersition gave its name to the student-produced magazine, Tally-Ho!
What is going to happen to the trees lining Cromwell’s Avenue or the cloister-like yew walks where we were forbidden to go for fear we set them alight while smoking?
What does the future hold for the monks’ graveyard or the once carefully tended and manicured greens of the golf course?
But, perhaps, the 1950s buildings, including the dormitories, class rooms and refectory, could provide ideal accommodation for Ukrainian refugee families. It would fit in with the Franciscan values that have been at the heart of the school for decades.
I can just imagine a future generation of Ukrainians having recurring dystopian dreams, running through those corridors, anxious about missing classes and worried that they are going to fail their final exams in science, maths – or even Irish.
The stained glass in the college chapel … inspired by the glass in Coventry Cathedrsl (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)
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