Remembrance: 9th February 2006

Clive and I rose early this morning for this, our final full day in Ireland. Today we were to carry out our simple act of remembrance with the planting of three saplings, one for each member of The Secret Method. After a quick, and somewhat solemn breakfast we made the short road trip to the location we had secured to plant our three young oaks.

I should take this opportunity to thank an old friend from my time at University College, Cork, for helping us in these arrangements. He has requested not to be named and has asked that the land, owned by a member of his family, should remain unpublicised. Naturally we must respect his wishes though we can at least state out gratitude here. It is a simple fact that one cannot go around planting trees on public land, and the simplest solution therefore was to plant them on privately owned ground. The benefits of this are twofold; firstly since the land is private, there is a much higher chance that the trees will be allowed to grow for many years without the danger of someone attempting to build a bypass through them. Secondly, although I am sad to say it, vandalism on young trees is all too common an occurrence and one which we would go to any lengths to avoid for these particular trees and what they represent.

However, I would add that although the location may be private, it is not invisible, it is not far at all from our starting point of Killaloe though it lies a little closer to Tulla. It will inevitably be found, but when it is sought out it is likely that those who discover it will be there for the right reasons, to remember and to pay their respects. In the meantime the most important consideration is that these memorial trees are allowed to grow and prosper unhindered.

As for the planting, Clive did the horticultural honours after which we stood in silence for three minutes; a minute each for Jimmy Cook, Nick Young and Justyn Kupiec of the vanished, The Secret Method. The occasion was a simple yet rather affecting one for us, for me in particular as the reality of the disappearance sunk in more deeply than before. For just a fleeting moment, I am ashamed to admit, I was touched by a brief sensation of hopelessness. The morning was bitingly cold, making me reflect for the first time on the physical discomfort the band may have gone through; braving the Irish winter in a crudely barricaded house, trapped together by the pressures of their deadlines and ambitions. I wondered, too, whether the group had a sense of their impending fate even before they set off from London; did they perhaps desire a "way out" of some sort? I had previously never given it thought but there exists a long line of artists to whom an unexpected end has been preferable to a mediocre existence.

After the ceremony, the cold drove us in the direction of the nearest pub where we decided that the most apt way to conclude our morning’s remembrance would be to raise a glass to The Secret Method. We were happy to have completed our task, and having overcome my earlier doubts I am now even more determined to bring the case of The Secret Method and indeed the Marchant case to their long overdue conclusions.

Clive and I decided to move on to Ballina, Killaloe's "twin" town which lies across the river. Here we had lunch and spent an hour or two walking quietly by the river, before setting off for our hotel where I am now writing this entry earlier than usual (6pm to be precise). We may yet brave the cold for a look around the town this evening before getting prepared for tomorrow's journey back to Dublin.

As Ever My Best Wishes,