Showing posts with label Open University. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Open University. Show all posts

Sunday, 27 February 2011

Irish Memories

The Grianan of Aileach (http:://pdphoto.org Jon Sullivan)

WHEN I was a child we used to holiday in the north of Ireland (geographically that is, not politically). My grandparents moved to Donegal after the Second World War, setting up home on the Inishowen Peninsula, a magical, mystical place, cut off from reality by the water which surrounds it on three sides.

Up the road and a bit from my grandparents’ house was Malin Head (you may recognise the name from the Shipping Forecast), the most northerly point in all Ireland. There we sat on the edge of the word, huddled under a huge umbrella as we watched the rain sweep in from the sea, and my grandfather brewed tea on an antiquated Primus stove. On the beach granite and quartz pebbles glistened, their jewel-like crystals shining black and green and pink and red through the gathering gloom and mist.

It was this view of the past that came to mind while I was working on my latest OU assignment, showing how Irish nationalists used ‘created tradition’ to forge a national identity, and it made me re-examine my own my own memories in a completely new light and set them in a different context.

Take the Grianan of Aileach for example. Up the road and a bit less (everything in Ireland was measured like this) there it stood, an ancient stone ring fort growing out of the heather on top of Greenan Mountain, with the cold wind blowing around and over it. Once the seat of the royal O’Neills, it was, according to legend, blessed by St Patrick, who left his footprints behind when he paid a visit – but no trace of them could be seen on our outings, however hard we searched. One story says it was raised by the Dagda, the ‘Good God’ of the Tuatha de Danann, while another tale claims the Celts gathered here to worship their sun goddess. The truth is lost in the mists of time, but Neolithic activity could date back to 2,000 BC, or even earlier.

Even as a child I could sense the power and history of this place. It was (and, I hope, still is) awe inspiring: it’s a great, roofless, circular, stone fortification, with walls so thick the entrance is like a tunnel. Terraced steps and ledges, just wide enough to walk along, run around the inside of the wall, giving the most spectacular views. Look inland and you can see five counties stretched below you like a living map. Look seaward and you can see Lough Swilly to the west, Lough Foyle to the right, and beyond them the great Atlantic Ocean, with nothing between us and America. Inside the Grianan (http:://pdphoto.org Jon Sullivan).

In actual fact much of the Grianan is a reconstruction, erected in the 1870s by Irish antiquarian Dr Walter Bernard, who was concerned about the monument’s dilapidated condition. It was left in ruins as early as 1101, following a raid by Murtogh O’Brien, King of Munster, who ordered each of his soldiers to take away a stone from the fort. In the ensuing centuries more stonework disappeared, and the remains fell into disrepair, falling victim to age, weather and souvenir hunters - until it was rescued by Dr Bernard.

As a child I imagined him as a wealthy but dotty ‘gentleman’ antiquarian, passionate about preserving the past. That may well have been true, but the project certainly fits with the ideals of Ireland’s burgeoning nationalist movement, which was striving to create a national identity while calling for independence from England. To this end they ignored 700 years of English rule and focused instead on the period before the 12th century. Policies of Gaelicisation meant greater value was put on Ireland’s ancient buildings – the Celtic churches, round towers and Neolithic monuments which owed nothing to English culture but represented a golden age in Irish history, and boasted links with the mythical heroes and holy men of the distant past (Laurence A (2008) Ireland: The Invention of Tradition, in Moohan E (ed) Tradition and Dissent (AA100 Book2), Milton Keynes, The Open University).
The Grianan’s importance is shown because before Dr Bernard took personal charge of the reconstruction, nationalists were involved in repairs. In the early 1870s the Irish Irelanders spent Sunday afternoons working on the site, assisted by members of the Gaelic League and the Gaelic Athletic Association (Sean Beattie, Ireland in Old Photographs – Donegal, http://unknownswilly.orgfree.com/griananbernard.html).
Dr Bernard used information gained from his historical researches to recreate the Grianan by piecing together the tumbled stones from the collapsed fort – but since much of the structure was missing he augmented his supply of authentic material with other stones found around the area. This action, together with the actual nature of the restoration he undertook, has been questioned over the years, because some historians felt the end result was not authentic.

Almost a century later there was similar criticism of Professor Michael O’Kelly’s excavation and recreation at Newgrange. Over the years both men have been accused of compromising the truth with their interpretations of ancient remains, rather than simply stabilising the relics. In years to come new evidence may show their work was flawed: meanwhile their view of the past has helped shape the way we see Ireland and history.

This photo, from Sean Beattie's, Ireland in Old Photographs - Donegal, Bigger/McDonald Collection, shows workers at the Grianan of Ailech during reconstruction in 1878.

Tuesday, 19 October 2010

The First Time...


LOTS of firsts today.

First an apology that I have not blogged for a while while getting to grips with my Open University course - then the laptop went wrong and I couldn't access my blog, gmail account, OU site or very much else.

The Man of the House (who has his good points) spent an entire day working on the computer and, hopefully, all now is now fixed - I am trying to key this in this with fingers crossed, to ensure nothing goes wrong, but it doesn't do a lot for my typing skills).

We have had the first fog of autumn since I posted my last literary effort. Two weeks ago now (October 7), and I had to drop paperwork off at the Credit Union office before it opened, so I abandoned the queues on the A5 and drove to Atherstone through Polesworth and the villages.

It was beautiful, with leaves and branches decorated with droplets of water, which glittered like diamonds as the sun began to pierce the gloom, and shining, golden showers dripped from overhanging branches.

In the fields solitary trees were transformed into twisted witches, while hedges became gnarled gnomes, and a prehistoric monster looming out of the swirling fog lost its terror as it neared, and revealed itself to be nothing more than a tractor and trailer.

A few days later we had the first frost, when cars and walls were covered in white, like icing sugar drizzled on a cake.

Then this morning I heard that the first migrating Siberian swans had arrived in the UK three weeks early which, apparently, heralds a long hard winter (don't you just love Radio 4's Today programme?)

Moving back to the OU I've attended my first day school in Birmingham (it was wonderful meeting other students and exchanging ideas) and missed my first tutorial because I got lost in Sutton on my way to the school where it took place (I know, I should be ashamed of myself as not only did I sometimes sub the Sutton paper, and really should know where places are, but it's only just down the road from Tamworth).

I've enjoyed studying the first two chapters (Cleopatra and Marlowe's Doctor Faustus)in the Reputations book, which forms the first part of The Arts Past and Present, which is a mandatory foundation course for all arts/humanities students - and I've roughed out my first assignment.

Then I managed to order air tickets online for my mother's 'flying' trip to Ireland to visit her brother. It was the first time I had done anything like this on the Internet, so I was very proud of myself - and mum was delighted with my achievement.

Tuesday, 14 September 2010

I'm a Student!



MY box of goodies arrived today from the Open University, and I was so excited that when I came to log on to the website I forgot my user name and my password!

It is to be hoped my memory improves fairly rapidly, otherwise my chances of achieving a longed-for English degree are not good!

When I left school I went to what was then known as 'teachers training college', stayed a year, decided teaching was not for me, and left to pursue a career in journalism.

I've never regretted that decision, but over the years I have toyed with the idea of studying for a degree. However, somehow it always seemed too difficult to combine with the demands of a high-stress job and a family.

Now The Daughters are grown and the job has been lost to redundancy, so it seems the ideal time to make the dream come true.

The idea still sounds a little scary, but last year I took a course at our local college to upgrade my IT skills and gain a BTec in Business Administration, and realised how much I love the gaining of knowledge.

To start with I was incredibly nervous - after all, it was a long time since I had been in a formal learning situation. But it was a wonderful experience which left me wanting to take on a fresh challenge, something I could really get my teeth into.

And what better than a degree?

The first module, which is mandatory, is The Arts Past and Present, which (according the booklet), aims to give students a 'thorough grounding' in the arts and humanities.

The breadth of disciplines involved is amazing: philosophy, art, literature, history... the list is endless.

Split into four sections, the course covers Repuations, Traditions and Dissent, Culural Encounters and Place and Literature.

First off is Reputations, where I have to consider what it is that makes some individuals famous - for example, why is Cleopatra still an icon some 2,000 years after her death? What about 'villains' like Stalin, or saintly men like the Dali Lama?

I'll also be studying musical divas, Cezanne's paintings and to study Marlowe's Dr Faustus, one of the most powerful dramas I have read.

I have to buy course books (including Faustus - I have an ancient copy somewhere, but it is not the recommended edition - and I am still waiting to hear who my tutor is.

But I have a box full of CDs and text/instruction books, as well as lots of enthusiasm, so I'm ready to start studying...

Tuesday, 20 July 2010

Graduation Day

OUTSIDE it is hot and sticky. A jazz band plays and all around us champagne corks pop, adding high percussive notes to the music.

It’s like a garden party. The women keep cool in floral frocks and spiky heels, while their perspiring menfolk shed suit jackets, loosen their ties and tug at the collars of their crisp shirts.

Brothers, sisters, boyfriends and girlfriends, all decked out in their summer finery, wander around clutching bottles of pop and digital cameras.

Then there are the students themselves looking smart, glamorous and oddly grown-up in the gowns and caps which cover their new outfits, smiling as if they would neer stop.

We sit at one of the tables laid out on the grass in front of the university while Younger Daughter disappears to meet friends, collect her own cap and gown, and pose for an official portrait.

When she reappears I fight to hold back the tears as I remember her on her first day at nursery, when she was so shy she wouldn’t speak to anyone and she refused to let go of my hand – so I spent the morning at nursery with her!

Even The Man of the House looks a little watery eyed as he gazes at her. Unusually he is wearing a suit, in honour of academic prowess, which is more than he did for his own graduation, when he turned up wearing jeans and a baggy jumper.

For some reason he is particularly intrigued by the hood on Younger Daughter’s gown: green, edged with apricot and white fur, it is a thing of beauty, but she is too excited to stand still for a photograph.

Inside it is hot and sticky. A saxophone quartet plays as we all file into the Octagon, where the graduation ceremony takes place.

The students sit in neat rows at the front, staring straight ahead, leaving parents craning their necks as they try to recognise their offspring.

Then, a trumpet voluntary sounds and VIPs process onto the sage. The assembled University Staff, Honorary Graduands, Public Orator, Senior Officers of the University, Civic Dignitaries, Mace Bearer and Presiding Officer, all resplendent in their colourful robes, take their seats.

Finally, the ceremony gets under way and we clap until our arms and hands ache as the students march, one by one, up the steps and across the stage, to accept their certificate from Professor RAL Jones, a Pro-Vice-Chancellor.

Regrettably, my efforts to capture Younger Daughter’s big moment for posterity prove unsuccessful as I mistakenly endeavour to operate the camera while clapping…

It seems very formal, a little archaic – and a million miles away from Sheffield’s council estates and the city centre.

The proceedings are broken up by the presentation to two lecturers of Senate Awards for Learning and Teaching, and the conferment of an honorary degree on Professor John C Wingfeld for his research on the environmental and endocrine control of reproduction, territorial behavior and migration in vertebrates.

The simple explanation, for people like me who don’t understand science, is that he is investigating the way creatures deal with climate change.

Apparently he discovered (among other things) that fish get seasick in holding tanks on a research ship…

Eventually the last student crosses the stage, and the Pro-Vice-Chancellor addresses us all, makes his speech, highlights the importance of education and urges the students to applaud their families for providing support.

Then, led by the Mace Bearers, the platform party files out of the hall., followed by the students and, last of all, the parents.

Outside is a melee as several hundred students are reunited with their nearest and dearest.

There are more photographs as young people hug and kiss, and say farewell to the friends they have shared their lives with for the last three years. But gradually they drift away, still smiling, to return their hired caps and gowns and begin their new lives.

Friday, 9 July 2010

I'm going get an English Degree!

I WAS going to reveal my current 'reads' today but I got side tracked because I am going to do an English Degree with the Open University!  How wonderful is that? 

All week I waited to hear from the OU then today, when the letter of confirmation arrived I was out.

I am so excited I want to dance and sing, but I will calm down soon, I promise.

Anyway, I can't wait to begin my studies and am really looking forward to being a student.