#Ulysses for mac free#

#Ulysses for mac free#

The third incident that weekend вЂ“ the departure for Paris of the minister for industry and commerce,В SeГЎn Lemass, for talks on European free trade вЂ“ was scarcely visible, a boring non-story. How could people have known that Blandford was as much a harbinger of the future as a blast from the past? In a world in which young Irish people were bailing out to go and live in Manchester and Birmingham and London and Glasgow, it would not have been unreasonable to think of the Blandford raid as an anachronism and WhelanвЂ™s funeral as a more accurate gauge of the temperature of the times. The body of Liam Whelan, the brilliant 22-year-old Manchester United inside-forward who had been killed in the Munich air disaster, was flown home on an Aer Lingus freight plane and accompanied by large crowds on a five-mile route from the airport to the Church of Christ the King in Cabra, with thousands more lining the route. Four days earlier, there was a vast public funeral in Dublin for a fallen young hero. It seemed at the time that this kind of thing was the fag end of a dying history. A few days later, the newly appointed British secretary of state for war, Christopher Soames, was asked, amid general laughter in the House of Commons, whether this was вЂњthe first battle in which he has been engagedвЂќ. The event was treated as if it were a scene in a comic opera. It was very easy: the guardsвЂ™ rifles were not even loaded. The raiders shot the sentry in the stomach and bound and gagged 10 young soldiers, all of them raw conscripts. The second story that weekend in 1958 was that, while my mother was in labour with me in a basement flat in Blackrock in Dublin, the IRA was raidingВ a British army training camp in Blandford, Dorset. The tortuous unravelling of that authority is one of the rhythms вЂ“ very slow, then very fast вЂ“ underlying my attempt to describe IrelandвЂ™s struggle with modernity in We DonвЂ™t Know Ourselves. The ChurchвЂ™s power worked in mysterious but unquestionable ways. And the adaptor of the Joyce piece insisted rather plaintively that he had had his script vetted by a priest to ensure that anything objectionable was filtered out. McQuaid had not even made any public statement. Samuel Beckett had then withdrawn two of his works from the festival. The ruler of Catholic Ireland, the Archbishop of Dublin John Charles McQuaid, had silently indicated his displeasure at the inclusion of an adaptation of James JoyceвЂ™s Ulysses, and a new play by Sean OвЂ™Casey. The first story was the cancellation of the Dublin Theatre Festival. It may even come to be, in the very long term, more consequential. Yet, over the next 60 years, the boring little story would compete on increasingly equal terms with the other two. One was barely worth an inside paragraph. Two of them were lurid and dramatic and ran for days. On the weekend I was born, in February 1958, three stories were running in the Irish papers. shiny modernity': Fintan O'Toole looks at the storyВ our growth since the 1950s in his new bookВ We DonвЂ™t Know Ourselves 'There has been no straight flight path from the poor and benighted Ireland of the 1950s to.