1920s

I remember, as a child, digging down in the sand in Skerries (perhaps 65 years ago). Obviously not digging far, but hitting a layer of black stuff. My parents told me it was oil. It had a very particular smell. I still remember it. I still wonder what it was. It happened more than once.

The answer, according to A.I.:

The Science Behind the 'Black Oil' Layer

The Lack of Oxygen (Anoxia): On popular beaches like Skerries South Beach or North Strand, the top few inches of sand are constantly turned over by waves and the tide, keeping them well-oxygenated and clean. However, just a short distance below the surface, the tightly packed sand particles block fresh water and oxygen from penetrating.

Decaying Organic Matter: Over time, bits of seaweed, marine organisms, and organic silt get buried under the shifting sand. In an environment devoid of oxygen, normal decomposition cannot happen. Instead, specialized anaerobic bacteria take over to break down this organic material.

The Chemical Reaction: These bacteria "breathe" sulfates (which are abundant in seawater) and exude iron sulfides. It is this iron sulfide that dyes the sand grains a deep, jet-black color and gives it a slick, greasy texture that looks identical to oil.

Boo hoo! The Tower Tearooms and The Tuck Shop are no more ...
In February (brrr!) 2023 via Paul McNamara [https://www.flickr.com/photos/pauljmcnamara/52713096446/]

Red Island again

This Faecsbook page reckons "circa 1928" - www.facebook.com
Includes another Eason near the tower with a motor car - catalogue.nli.ie

Ah, the Lancastria. Yes, the cruising holiday was quite the 'thing' especially during the inter-war period when many companies such as Cunard marketed a vast variety of cruises with many different classes and prices; it was, I suspect, primarily, a 'middle' and 'upper' class thing. The company advertised heavily, both for its trans-Atlantic business in the days before air travel, and its holiday 'cruising' business; as well as adverts, glossy foldout plan brochures, such as this were often issued.

The Lancastria was originally named the Tyrrhenia, built by Beardmore's on the Clyde and launched in 1920 for a sister line to Cunard, the Anchor Line. Refitted and renamed in 1924 the vessel went to the Mediterranean cruise circuit in the 1930s. Upon the outbreak of war in 1939 the Lancastria was requisitioned and sadly, on 17 June 1940, the vessel was sunk by enemy action whilst helping to evacuate British nationals and troops from St. Nazaire whilst heavily overloaded. Although there were around 2,400 survivors the number of those lost varies from 3,500 to 7,000; it is widely recognised as the biggest ship loss of any British vessel. The news at the time was effectively blocked by the use of a D-Notice.

Cunard had a long history, formed in 1840 and based out of Liverpool and latterly Southampton. From 1934 onwards they were connected with the White Star line. The name survives but as a subsidiary of a larger multi-national cruise liner concern.

[https://flic.kr/p/7uqKUq]

[https://flic.kr/p/9PsR9J]

Interesting story of the 1940 sinking at St Nazaire with photos -
news.bbc.co.uk


Edit - More up-to-date version -
www.bbc.com

And wiki - en.wikipedia.org/wiki/RMS_Lancastria

12 Gns for a 10-day cruise in 1920, equivalent to £500 today, seems good value
However, pricing in Guineas implies a ‘luxury transaction’

mikeyashworth Like it or not, you are now our official Cunard expert. :)
Any idea on a slightly tighter date for this brochure? After 1924 renaming anyway.

The twain in Spain stays mainly in the Hotel Cristina Reina.

Streetview

A few moments later

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At Algeciras -- A Meditation upon Death
William Butler Yeats

“The heron-billed pale cattle-birds
That feed on some foul parasite
Of the Moroccan flocks and herds
Cross the narrow Straits to light
In the rich midnight of the garden trees
Till the dawn break upon those mingled seas.

Often at evening when a boy
Would I carry to a friend -
Hoping more substantial joy
Did an older mind commend -
Not such as are in Newton's metaphor,
But actual shells of Rosses' level shore.

Greater glory in the Sun,
An evening chill upon the air,
Bid imagination run
Much on the Great Questioner;
What He can question, what if questioned I
Can with a fitting confidence reply”

Algeciras, 1929

In November 1927, an aging W.B. Yeats travelled to Algeciras, Spain, alongside his wife George Yeats and their friend Jean Hall. At this point in his life, Yeats was 62 years old and severely ill, suffering from a breakdown in health that brought him remarkably close to dying. [1] (catalogue.nli.ie), [2] (thestoneandthestar.blogspot.com)Seeking a warmer climate to convalesce, he stayed at the famous Hotel Reina Cristina. From the hotel’s lush Spanish gardens, Yeats could look out across the narrow Straits of Gibraltar toward the coast of Morocco. This stark geographic boundary—where only a narrow slip of water separates two entirely different continents—became a powerful spatial metaphor for the fragile boundary between life and death