My husband doesn’t understand me.· He’s English.· And therein lies the problem.· I am Irish.· And like most Irish people I have more than a passing interest in current affairs and politics.· I have only very rarely, not voted.· I am not exactly a total political junkie but I am interested and do my best to keep up.· Of course like most Irish people I also love a good debate (or row as my husband would call it).
So as you can imagine, I am being kept very entertained at the moment.· I end each evening in the company of that old curmudgeon Vincent Browne.· Each evening I hope for fireworks.· Last Thursday I was richly rewarded by the spectacle of Conor Lenihan giving birth to a brand new persona for himself live on TV.· It was great craic.
I watch alone but make sure that I recount each development to himself who has been asking for seemingly weeks now, “so has the Government collapsed then.”· “No” I mutter, trying to keep the exasperated tone from my voice “that’s the point, they are still hanging on.”·· He looks blankly at me with a thought bubble clearly visible which says “so what then?”
On Saturday, the first Fianna Fail candidate arrived at my door, canvassing for votes.· It was like my birthday. Not just a canvasser – a Fianna Fail TD.· I think he saw that I have a copy of the Proclamation on the wall in the hall and assumed he was on safe ground.· Another Fianna Fail error of judgement.· ·As I concentrated on being articulate, not resorting to bad language, and sticking with the points I wished to make, I could hear one of the kids in the background asking “why is mom giving out to that man at the door, Dad?”
Less than an hour later we are all sitting down to lunch and I am recounting my (albeit very one sided) conversation with Barry Andrews (said Fianna Fail TD) to my bored husband.· I am enjoying the retelling, especially when I get to the bit about how Mr Andrews still thinks that Brian Cowen is a great leader and that Michael Martin was wrong to challenge his leadership.
“Can you believe that?”
“No,” he mutters chewing his scrambled eggs.
Meanwhile I am surreptitiously monitoring twitter on my phone.
I almost choke on my bacon.
“Jaysus, Brian Cowen has just resigned as leader of Fianna Fail.· Oh my God.· I hope someone has brought poor old Barry up to speed.”
“So the Government has collapsed then?”
“Noooooo.· That’s the point…. oh never mind.”
My husband doesn’t understand me.· Or this mad country. Or why all talk so much about it and yet we put up with it all.
Then he remembers Fr Ted which when he lived in England he thought was pure comedy genius.· He’s beginning to wonder if we are in fact all living on Craggy Island.· He might just have a point.