This week is Titanic’s anniversary. Built in Belfast, we’ve got a special place in our hearts for this ship of dreams. Thomas Hardy’s poem ‘The Convergence of the Twain’ never fails to send shivers down my spine. I can picture him sitting at his desk in 1912, dipping his pen over and over, in response to the news coming in. Hardy blamed ‘the Immanent Will’ and the ‘Spinner of the Years’. But never before had humanity reached so high; never before had it lost so much. In the sweep of history, it feels as if this magnificent ship was ushering in cruel fate and great loss, even beyond herself and the icy Atlantic. World wars were soon on their way. Hubris was no longer to go unpunished.