Tara

On my last half day of freedom before returning home, I had a choice of a dozen different destinations, none too far from the airport lest something go wrong! I mean far in the Australian sense, not Irish!

My choice was inspired ... as was the weather. The destination was Tara, a location possibly recessed somewhere in your minds ... as it was in mine. I associated Tara with legends of Irish culture and a seat of power. And so it proved. The Hill of Tara is in Meath, towards Cavan in the north. And hill it is by Irish standards, with vast vistas from the top. To the northeast lay the River Boyne, site of the famous battle where William of Orange cemented his hold of Ireland at the expense of James II and, I might add, the Catholic congregation of Ireland. To the west lay the flat and boggy lowlands of the centre, and distant in the south were the Wicklow Mountains, all bathed in sunlight.

If those views and associations were beautiful and inspiring, the events at Tara were much more so. First, I should explain, there is no village or township at the site. Indeed, it is 'barren' save a church apparently associated with St Patrick's role in Ireland. Perhaps I'll qualify 'barren'. The area is a field covered in sheep, but not just any old field. The site has been occupied for 5000 years, and that passage of time has left it covered with processional trenches, barrows, monuments, and a mass of sometimes intersecting defensive positions: mounds and ditches.

This was a, possibly THE, cradle of Irish and Celtic civilisation, where kings were crowned, territories administered, rituals devised and enacted, and the dead honoured. And, the nearby church served as an interpretative centre. There, I saw a short 20 minute film which impressively recreated the life and culture of Tara over all those years ... the first church I have been in that had electrically operated blinds on the windows and an automatically unfolding screen! By the way, the blind at the end covered an exquisite stained glass window.

So, my trip to Ireland lasting just 7 days came to a superb end. Dot doesn't know this yet, but I'm taking her back there before long to share in the magical scenery and sometimes quaint culture. Certainly I learned a few words of Gaelic like Baile (town) which explains Bally this and Bally the other! I also leaned the words for slow down, caution, give way and stop ... necessary in a part of the world where English is relegated not just to second place but abolished from signage altogether.

AS