Sequamur

Last week I went to see a Gaelic play called Sequamur which was on here in Edinburgh at the venue called Summerhall, formerly affectionately know as the Dick Vet.

Sequamur is the motto of my old school The Nicolson Institute in Stornoway, where I spent six, mostly happy years, except for the odd moment or two which were not exactly happy. But that's for another time.

Sequamur means Let us follow, though after seeing the play, in many ways, let us not, as the author Donald S Murray, from Ness, also a former pupil, says.

The play was written for the centenary of the First World War as it affected the people of Lewis and especially the pupils of the Nicolson Institute and their headmaster (rector) William Gibson. Those of you who went to the Nicolson Institute, and there are one or two of you reading this, will remember that in the old Francis Street building there was a brass memorial plaque on the upstairs landing commemorating all the school pupils killed in the First World War.

The author was inspired by memories of that plaque and by reading an account of the speech made by William Gibson when he unveiled the plaque and spoke about his former pupils and their sacrifice, wondering if it had been worthwhile. They obviously held him in the highest regard and many of them went on to write to him from the trenches of Europe or from Gallipoli, where so many of them fought and died. Those letters and the speech are now held by Museum nan Eilean in Stornoway amongst all Gibson's papers. Extracts from some of the letters are printed in the programme for the play and were used by Donald in his background research.

I found the experience very moving and emotional and I'm so glad that I was well enough to go. The play ended with the roll of honour for the Newington area of Edinburgh scrolling up on the screen behind the actors, to the sound of the bagpipes playing the last post, which I thought was coming through the speakers, until I saw the piper march through the theatre and stand in front of the stage as the roll scrolled on. Fair took my breath away, as they say. And couldn't help but think about my father and his brother, and their war history and then I remembered my own mortality and had to work hard not to embarrass myself with my tears.

I spoke to the author afterwards in the cafe and told him how much I appreciated his play. He had been to Gillespie School the day before to do a workshop for the students there studying Gaelic and I was very impressed to see so many students watching the play. Well done all concerned for a superb production.