High Windows

Interesting day at Poetry Ireland's Annual Writers Forum, held this year in The Royal Society of Antiquaries, 63 Merrion Square.

Enlightening, lively talk by Eileen McDermott, JCSP Library Service, who spoke about working with young people who have behavioural difficulties. Later we did a workshop initiated by Seamus Cashman, in groups of six, an Ideas Exchange as he called it. I was doubtful, unused to group work, but it proved interesting, especially in terms of making us think on the hop (the time allotted was around 5 minutes).

But the most amazing thing was the building itself. When I asked to use the toilet i was directed to the upstairs one, mistakenly as it happens, as there was one in the basement where we were assembled. But it was a lucky mistake, since I got to explore the house, which seems to be undergoing renovation at present. It reminded me of our own old house in Blackrock, though it was somewhat taller. As I reached the (almost) top floor, I was greeted by this vision, an arched window that almost appeared to be painted/inset with clouds, like a trompe-l'oeil. Larkin's poem High Windows came to mind, with its devastating final lines:

Rather than words comes the thought of high windows:
The sun-comprehending glass,
And beyond it, the deep blue air, that shows
Nothing, and is nowhere, and is endless.

Except that the vision in the poem is from the street, whereas this was from the inside. Less existential, warmer, a wee glimpse of an old-fashioned, 19 century Paradise.