Tuesday, 13 September 2016

"Merchant Prince" Coveney Too Busy To Do His Job

The sewage from thirty nine homes has continued to pour out onto the beach at Doldrum Bay all Summer. It is still flowing undisturbed into the beautiful and protected coastal Howth environment.


Irish Water have committed via the EPA to a short term solution being in place by the end of September. This short term solution consists of putting a pipe out into the sea and diverting the sewage off the beach.

This will still be an illegal discharge and they will remain in breach of their Ringsend License. It also raises questions about their right to carry out work on the foreshore at all. Irish Water have assured the EPA that they are moving forward with a long term solution.

An unsightly and unauthorised warning sign has been installed on the cliffs 15 minutes walk from the site of the discharge. It has no name or contact details on it but presumably was erected by Irish Water.

Regarding the change.org petition - Mr. Patrick Jackson has repeatedly tried to contact Simon Coveney via email, social media and at his offices in an attempt to arrange a handover of the document. He has received no reply or acknowledgment.


Unfortunately, it would seem that our petitioning efforts have fallen on deaf ears and a firmly closed door despite Minister Coveney having boasted that his door would always be open to people concerned about the marine environment.

END

Saturday, 3 September 2016

Behind Their Lines: Our Mutual Dead

(Reblogged. For others interested in reading more of the lost voice of the First World War, you can follow weekly posts at Connie Ruzich's blog )

Armistice Day: the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month in 1918, when the First World War ended.

In 1916, following the death of her older brother, Margaret Sackville wrote a poem imagining that future time when the fighting and killing would cease. Men had made the war – and now it would be left to the grieving women to make the peace.


Reconciliation 

When all the stress and all the toil is over, 
And my lover lies sleeping by your lover. 
With alien earth on hands and brows and feet. 
Then we may meet. 

Moving sorrowfully with uneven paces, 
The bright sun shining on our ravaged faces, 
There, very quietly, without sound or speech, 
Each shall greet each. 

We who are bound by the same grief for ever, 
When all our sons are dead may talk together, 
Each asking pardon from the other one 
For her dead son. 

With such low, tender words the heart may fashion, 
Broken and few, of kindness and compassion, 
Knowing that we disturb at every tread 
Our mutual dead.

Margaret Sackville, published in The Pageant of War, 1916