Séamus Ahearne – A Few Thoughts …
PATRICIA ROUTLEDGE AND EDMUND COLLEDGE OSA:
Patricia Routledge has died. When I asked at Mass if people knew who she was; most faces lit up, and in unison, Hyacinth Bucket was mentioned. ‘Keeping up Appearances’ seemed to be very familiar to most. Recently a ‘Letter to life as I approach my 95th Birthday’ appeared. Patricia reflected on all her years. It is beautifully presented. Some sentences from the final words are:
“Let these years ahead be your treasure years. You don’t need fame. You don’t need perfection. You only need a presence. Show up. Gently. Fully. Authentically. And life — if you let it — will always meet you halfway.”
I claim no knowledge of Patricia or of Mrs Bucket but I do have an amusing connecting link to the Augustinians. When Patricia was in Liverpool University, she became friends with Edmund Eric Colledge. He was a lecturer or Reader there. He had also worked in Military Intelligence. Their friendship lasted throughout Edmund’s life. Edmund was an authority on Medieval Mystics and on the origins of the English language. His written works are exquisite. He joined the Augustinians in 1963 and went to Clare Priory in Suffolk. Ms Routledge always claimed that Edmund was the one who persuaded her to become an actress.
MANCHÁN MAGAN AND RENE MAGRITTE:
Manchán Magan has died. I wasn’t very familiar with Manchán and had only seen him with Tommy Tiernan and then with Brendan O’Connor. His attitude and outlook towards the earth, and then towards his rapidly approaching death, was extraordinary. I loved his sheer enthusiasm for the Irish language and then his sense of place; his sense of the earth; his sense of the spirit; his sense of the otherness of life; his sense of the Holy Wells; his sense of the ‘more’ in life.
And then something struck me as I saw words and a picture of the painting by Rene Magritte. La Magie Noire. He was called the ‘superstar of surrealism.’ The notion of the subconscious and dreams playing their way onto art was most interesting. That painting was bought by the family of Suzanne Spaak who was later to become a heroine of the Resistance during World War 11. This painting is going on sale this month. I can’t put in an offer. The painting is somewhat an idealised version of beauty especially of female beauty. The painting does for me, speak too of Manchán. The figure is grounded with the rock and then with the landscape. But the upper body has a changed colour and is somehow reaching to the heavens. The eyes are closed. There is something ethereal about the painting. It seems to collect the other world with the world of here and now. Manchán mightn’t agree with the suggestion, but there is a hint of sameness there.
THE HARUM SCARUM:
I visited a house last Saturday. It was the First Anniversary of Gerard. He had died by suicide. I got to the house. It was the right number but the wrong street. I met two little children and told them that I was lost. One little girl said to me. ‘Take out your mobile and search google maps.’ I told her that I didn’t have a clue about google maps. She looked at me with such pity. She was about 6. After then, I was rescued by some of the “Who’s Who” of the locality; The local hard chaws and ruffians. Some of whom are rather notorious. The man whose anniversary we were celebrating fitted well into that group! His partner wanted a prayer for the occasion. The praying was rather adjusted. Nothing of the usual book-prayers would seem helpful. But we did chat. There was a remembering. Gerard was full of love; he loved his partner; he loved his children. He was loved. He was a harum-scarum, devil may care-um, type. But he mattered.
As I came to a conclusion, I pointed out one of the lads. And told the rest that I had a story to tell. I had met Robert over in Berryfield two weeks ago. He was highly emotional. His son had just been born. He was full of the wonder of life and the very mystery of this child. I said to the ‘boys’ that this is what we are about. The preciousness of life and the moments of beauty and wonder. I told them to try capturing this – as they remembered Gerard and to care for the children, and to make the world better for them. I then (on the spur of the moment) decided to drown them with the holy water. It was fun. But there was something very precious in that gathering. Somehow God does happen in the strangest way with most unlikely people. I was blessed by them. Who would believe it? They did say the Our Father!
Seamus Ahearne osa 6th October 2025.