I can only picture now Colm Keaveney’s first time to go to a Fianna Fail meeting. A real one now I mean, not one of those high-level suited affairs that he has been at in Dublin while the personal details of his ‘out of window’ transfer were being ironed out before he spoke in Robbie Keane terms about how joining a ‘big team like Fianna Fail’ was always his “boyhood dream.”
No, the Deputy has still not been in the presence of a room full of real Fianna Failers, those who like the Japanese prisoners back at the end of the war, still had not come out of the bushes and realised that the game was up.
You would think that if there was one thing the city and county and indeed the country didn’t need after all that has gone on over the past few years, was the prospect of more land in state ownership, but that is what has transpired in Galway this week.
In a move which has mystified almost everyone who was not privy to it, the state became the owner of a former airport, albeit for a knockdown price of about €9,000 an acre.
In this column over the past four or five years, I have annually returned to a common theme. The invisible pain that invisible people are feeling every day all around us. For a nation that seems to excel at talking, we are incredibly reluctant to let down the guard and show our frailties, our vulnerabilities. I suppose it is part of our conditioning that having striven to pull ourselves up by the bootlaces, we are shy about opening our minds up to examination by those around us. We have all carefully constructed ourselves so well, that any outside probing may bring the whole house of cards down.
I have written here many times that there is no problem that cannot be solved or reduced in intensity by sharing it. There are furrowed brows on half the population of this country as they go about their daily chores stressed about the situation we have found ourselves in; failing to see any happiness in the things we do; failing to reach out and ask for help.