Seagulls' eggs
A totally unrelated but beautiful Pat Cook photo of Aranmore at sunset That’s what they used to call us, says Ciarán O’Bríaín, lightkeeper 570 in the pantheon of Irish Lights’ personnel. Seagulls’ eggs. Children of lightkeepers who were born on the ledge on which their parents happened to alight. A cursory check of Irish censuses will show a wonderful geographical spread of ‘place of birth’ for the keeper, his wife and seven children which incidentally is a very handy way to work out the stations the father served at to that point. In Ireland, in particular, a sense of place and belonging is deeply rooted in the psyche. You will grow up and be known all your life as a Wexfordman or a Donegal man or a Limerick man, or whatever county you happened to pop out into the sunlight in. And that will very much mark you down, in the eyes of others, as the type of person you are. It is all down to local history and folk memory and the trials and tribulations endured by that particul...