Obviously this would be very welcome but we have had false starts before. This is probably the most concrete update I have had though so hopefully it will happen this time.

On a separate note I am trying to get the station cleaned up for the Tidy Towns at present. Am sure all readers of this blog are model citizens with regard to litter etc but if everyone could make a special effort as the tidy towns judging is running at present and the station cost them points last year.

I’ve long said it is not good enough to simply want power for the simple reason of having power. You must want to do something with that power and have clear and powerful enough goals to inspire others to entrust you with it. I’ve been working on some policy ideas with a few other like mindeds but I might talk more on that another day.

For now, here are a few simple things I think the government could and should be doing if it is to recover its standing among the people.

Patently transparent and open government
I remember knocking on doors one night last Spring, in the early days of the local election canvass and meeting a friendly face. It was an aquaintance of mine, a social contact in Naas and like myself, an IT professional and a commuter, a friendly face. We talked socially and business wise for a while then moved onto brass tacks of politics and the economy. He accepted the harsh measures in recent budgets, even admired perhaps the Minister in charge, but then dropped the bombshell. “Your partys problem is corruption” he said. I was genuinely taken aback. Sure there were tough and unpopular decisions but I could defend those, and he accepted them. But there was a hangover he said. Too many on the take. For all my belief that those days were in the past, and that the days of brown envelopes were well and truly gone, there is still a huge perception amongst the public, and not unjustified, that implicit, if not explicit corruption still continues. That decisions are made and policies set according to who is in the know, if not the payroll of the corporates and developers. This notion and any suggestion of it needs to be firmly and finally addressed before the party is to recover. Perhaps there was undue influence in the past from FF friendly corporates? Whether it did or didn’t happen before, it cannot, or even a perception of it cannot be allowed to happen today. Decisions must be made openly and transparently with full rationale. If they are unpopular we will take the hit.  If they win favour we will take the plaudits. But we can champion them without compromise knowing they are there for all the right reasons.

Zero Tolerance for Carpetbaggers
On a related theme we have scored, or allowed to be scored, more own goals against the party than the opposition have ever placed in the net. Perhaps naievely I really believed the day of free loaders in Fianna Fáil had gone. It may not be as overt now with no bank drafts or brown envelopes changing hands, but loans from Fingleton or expense scams are a sordid modern equivalent. This kind of sqaulour should be rewarded with an absolute zero tolerance policy and offenders turfed out upon their ear to face the full rigour of the law or the corú as appropriate. Those that betray the public or the party trust should be treated accordingly.

At least some application of moral hazard
Though many accept the need for some form of banking rescue, what has really grated is the apparent dichotomony betwen little and large. The householder in negative equity whilst the bank is being bailed out. Whilst I believe this to be a simplistic and not entirely accurate picture I hold a view that those who make a decision should be culpable for it, beit the householder or the bondholder. If you can’t do the time, don’t do the crime and the same should apply to lenders, big and small. I am familiar with the concept of ‘too big to fail’ and I am aware every western democracy bar Canada has seen banking support schemes of some nature but I am deeply uncomfortable with the absence of moral hazard. I believe those that take risks must stand to gain from them but the converse must also hold true. We need to see at least some form of moral hazard being applied to those at the top as well as at the bottom of the pile.

Internal review and democracy
The party needs to look to its structures for internal reform and policy development. It grated many, many members that the Green grass roots got more say in the Programme for Government than many of our backbench TDs did. This is wrong and is not the way to run a modern political party. And it is not the way to attract and retain the membership needed for what could and should be a team of all the talents. There are great people in the organisation already. We need to function as a whole greater than the sum of the parts.

Communicate and explain decisions
Policies need to be sold as well as made. Talk to the people. Communicate. Explain what is being done, why it is being done, how it is being done. And do so in a language people will understand. The Taoiseach has got better at this recently and I would have expected some upswing on the strength of it. He was good on PrimeTime last night and I think he should keep doing this and more of it, and get the rest of the cabinet out to bat also.

Review of Anglo
Probably the most toxic decision of the last twenty four months has been the horrendous sums to be ploughed into Anglo, a bank that even its supporters feel can have at best limited shelf life with perhaps a remant hiving off into a form of corporate credit union. NAMA, I can accept, the figures can even add up, but twenty plus billions into Anglo is a hell of a price to pay for sovereign reputation. I’m not an economist, I’m not a financier (notwithstanding an M.Sc. in financial maths) and I don’t claim to have all the answers. Unlike many commentators perhaps, when the Minister says something, I believe it unreservedly, so I trust him on this also. But I am concerned when so many commentators, academics and what appears to be informed opinions are positioned against this, to ask is there really no other way? A clear succcint and final explanation or even better, an honest and open review of this would help dispel a lot of the really bad karma that surrounds this right now.

Northern mobilisation
For many this may not be an issue, may not even be on the radar. But it matters to me. It’s partly why I was attracted to the party, as the leader of nationalist opinion on the island. We have members enlisted in the North. We have cumann established and eager to get going. We have had expressions of interest from sitting representatives. We have some fine young activists really pushing this hard. And still we are not there. Why the inertia, why can we not put our money where our mouth is on this one and mobilse for real in thirty two counties. Shockwave  – we might lose elections. Well we’re not going to win any with no candidates.

Rant over. I do broadly agree with most govt policies but there are some that rankle, and the political presentation at times rankles even more. Deal with the offenders, listen to own membership, re earn the trust of the people and return to greatness once more.

Build that shining city on that hill. And let the beacon light a way where now there appears none…

Bio Energy Plant
A huge number of objections were received by Kildare county council against the proposed bio-energy complex at Monread / Kerdiffstown. The upshot of this was that the council refused planning permission for the proposed facility. The owner now has five weeks to appeal this decision. Residents or interested parties can also make a submission on the appeal.

NB Whilst the proposed facility is located adjacent to the existing Kerdiffstown dump, however the proposal comes in from a separate party, an M&M Coldstores company.

Existing Kerdiffstown Dump
After almost three years of filing by the EPA the high court granted a temporary injunction against the A1 waste facility at Kerdiffstown on Friday 14th May. This prevents A1 from lodging any further waste into this landfill. A question then arises as to how the estimated 1.5 million tonnes of unprocessed waste in the landfill is to be cleaned up. I have raised this question with the Minister and it is also being pursued by a number of parties including the EPA and the CAN (Clean Air Naas) group (www.can.ie).

Extension to Kerdiffstown Dump
Although the existing dump has now been shut down, at least temporarily, the council simultaneously granted planning permission for the construction of a new dump on an adjoining 26 acre site across the road from the existing plant. The council maintain that each planning proposal is dealt with on its own merits and this application satisfied the various grounds. However this new extension has yet to receive a license from the EPA and that application process will be ongoing through the Summer.

Please see attached map for the location of the above three sites. At any stage residents can continue to report odours to EPA on (01)268 0100 and these will all be logged and referenced in future cases and applications to extend / continue operations.

On right is a photo of the famine memorial at Delphi County Mayo. Hundreds perished here after being forced to trek  overnight for alms then refused.

Today is National Famine Commemoration Day.

In honour I publish for the first time a short story I wrote set amongst the landscape, if not the exact time period, of An Gorta Mór.

The hungry grass

Crossing the shallow holdings high above sea
Where few birds nest, the luckless foot may pass
From the bright safety of experience
Into the terror of the hungry grass.

Here in a year when poison from the air
First withered in despair the growth of spring
Some skull-faced wretch whom nettle could not save
Crept on four bones to his last scattering,

Crept, and the shrivelled heart which drove his thought
Towards platters brought in hospitality
Burst as the wizened eyes measured the miles
Like dizzy walls forbidding him the city.

Little the earth reclaimed from that poor body
And yet remembering him the place has grown
Bewitched and the thin grass he nourishes
Racks with his famine, sucks marrow from the bone

(Poem, Donagh MacDonagh, 1906-1968)

Seamus peered out the glass pane at the rain beating down outside. On a clear day the distant blue of the ocean could sometimes be seen its vastness offering the twin possibilities of escape and loss in its depths. Sometimes they seemed the same thing.

Closer in lay the lough but today with the grey clouds low over the mountain and with their relentless cannon onto the silent hillsides it was hard to see much at all. The short lane down to the larger boreen which linked his property to the outside world alternated between a stream and a path as conditions varied. Of course vehicles could use it theoretically but last time the oil lorry had refused to deliver claiming the route was not ‘road worthy’. Lazy is all, he thought. One time he used run an old motor up and down himself, on trips to the village or a very rare sortie up to town in search of women and diversion in younger years. Little diversions now.

The landscape was bleak but beautiful, at least to the tourists. The cottage nestled away shielded by trees in part but almost wedded to the mountain side in the main.
A bedroom, a fireplace, a kitchen area and a back yard were all he really wanted though the cottage had more than he needed. The infant of Prague regarded him solemnly from above the hearth whilst the holy water font in the porch had not been filled in some time. He seldom went to church now, though one time he never missed it. Too much hypocrisy and not anything to do with those scandals either, although those youngsters had had it rough by all accounts. Rougher than him with a father away and a mother run ragged, almost lost in the crowd of his own family and scrabbling for his supper amidst the remains of the day. Well who is to tell now.

If he went outside he could see the lough but it held no draw for him these days, or at least no magic. He tried the boats once and there was good money in high season but you were born to it or you weren’t and his legs were firmly of this earth. Hated the water if the truth be told. No shortage of it cascading down the steps and making a waterfall of the front yard at present anyhows.

Letting the floral foil of the blinds drop back into place he moved away from the window and what lay beyond. He didn’t really need the blinds up here, away from everything but it gave something to look at in the dead of winter. There was the box in the corner of course but that thing wasn’t much. He gave that up a long time ago too.
Reaching up he lifted an anorak off the hook and shrugged into it enveloping his frame. As good a time as any to make a break he thought and what would he do for the day otherwise. Pulling his hood up over his head he opened the door and stepped forth into the tempest outside.

He made his way first to the outhouse. Slipping back the bolt he stepped over a pile of drying sheafs, harvested earlier during the too brief summer. Beside them lay a pile of roots, some now decaying leaves and in a small barrel beside, the remnants of the potato crop. Heathers, stalks and clusters of tied nettles covered the floor. The distillation took time but a complex apparatus betrayed innate simplicity, like herding or trout tickling or any the ancient crafts. He leaned over the bench and regarded the piping and sediments. Lifting a bottle off the shelf, the label bearing only passing resemblance to the contents within, he tucked it carefully inside his garments. Turning back out the door he began to pick his way through the puddles and to descend down the path his figure casting a moving black spot against the otherwise greying hillside.

Though it was barely noon he had been up half the day already, waking at dawn and rising in accordance with the habit of a lifetime. The old mattress was alright but he rolled into it most nights without any great comfort at least not physical. The days were long and the nights were short and it didn’t change with the seasons. One of the sheep had become entangled in fencing earlier and it had taken him some time to cut it loose. It was almost an adventure sometimes accounting for the animals although it too waned with time. He swore he’d lost some and never noticed, others claimed as much but that was bound to be just more digs about the boundaries, or maybe the drink. The latest lamb had been unfurled from the wire and galloped in gaiety up the mountain. Youthful exuberance and an impatience for life saw it disappear up the slope. He had watched its path as it weaved through the yellow and purple thicket and up by the stream, minding its way past the odd scattered stone wall.

They’d had a good stripe of this hillside once. Further up the slopes a heap of timber and stone marked the original homeplace his people had held at one time. All of that before the evictions when generations of his past were forced to watch wretched as the flames tore asunder the life they had made. Some escaped abroad or elsewhere but many lost the will after that and never tried to live again. The winters after took care of the rest when the hunger came upon the hills. Stories still lingered of children fell dying, their lips grass green, collapsing to ground where their bones scoured the soil. A pittance had survived in ever diminishing freeholds right down to the plot now occupied by his cottage their last claim on the mount. And even that now contested.

Reaching the main road he pivoted right and began to walk along the lip of the lough shore. He rarely drove now, he was never fully confident and it was hardly worth the bother after they put him off it three years before. As the rain continued to seep down
an odd vehicle appeared through the blanket, pairs of lights signalling its progression in advance. Most the lake side houses were foreign owned now with gates, walled gardens and foreboding entrances. Abandoned mainly outside the Summer months the big house was an undiminished presence here. A shower sloshed over him as another silver machine swept past oblivious to his presence. Damp but determined he continued unabated on this trail he knew so well. There’d be few enough in Louis’s now, the time and the nature of the day, but there’d be enough. It’d be worth the trip.

Back up the hillside the rain began to ease but a wind picked up bringing icy portents from higher up and sending the animals to seek out shelter from the gorse or hawthorns where they could find them. Occasional stoned walls stencilled across the canvass but offered little by way of comfort, even where they stood erect still. Towards the top, beyond the sheep trails and nearer the summit, a remnant of life lingered, a defiant stone sill and some charred timbers marking a dwelling place one time before. A giant hawthorn tree had once kept watch over the site and some levelling out of land just beside betrayed attempts at one time at settlement. Small holdings had once been carved out into the frozen soil but were long since abandoned. Long but wispish grasses guarded the approaches and now moved with the winds giving an appearance of waving to anyone regarding from below.

Seamus pushed against the door of the public house, giving a brief glance back at his surrounds. The mountain made a stark solemn wall always in the background but the narrow streetscape afforded an outlet beneath. The steeple defined the village, being the most immediate landmark, but the pub was the real place of worship. A surly post office and a grocery store come filling station completed the compass points. Postcards were available but fuel and fags were the main draw this time of year.

“Before the cock crowed three times it called for Seamus” .. Louis opened.

“Aye we’ll hear the bells soon alright” Seamus replied, dismissing the remark.

“Never ask for whom the bell tolls, Seamus, in case it calls for you!” .. Louis attempted a smile and pulled the tap down to full port, watching the stout flow into the glass beneath. A standing joke over the years, angelus bells were as much a call to nourishment here as they were to the spiritual kind supposedly on offer across the road. For many it was the only source of nourishment worth travelling out for.

“Well Seamus … what have ye for me today?” .. inquired Louis.

“It’s a fresh one for ya” answered Seamus “One the last for the year”.

From within the folds of his clothing Seamus produced the bottle and placed it on the inner shelf behind the counter. Louis nodded and raised it up, the better to study the liquid inside. The contents shimmered a grey, dirty kind of gold almost translucent with a silting residue running down the inside of the bottle as he turned it.

“Aye that’ll keep you for a while Seamus” Louis smiled and moved to lock it into the private quarters beyond. Barter had never quite disappeared in these parts, and when a man had no paper to offer well there may be other wares that he can trade. The Poitín had started almost a hobby, something to break up the year, but often now it had become the daily bread. Louis would accept it in trade for porter and a place to pass the time and sometimes others could be persuaded to part with real money in return.

Seamus drew on his pint and enjoyed the flow like mothers milk wash down his gullet and into his insides. He sat onto the stool and glanced around. Beside him couple other wooden stools bordered a narrow counter behind which lay three taps, a range of optics. Along the wall, beside various other ads for boat hire and taxi cab numbers and an oyster festival calendar, he noticed one new notice; a cleaner for hire was now on offer. Sure that was a laugh he thought, something only for the tourists. Although someone had to keep an eye on the places in winter he supposed. He’d caught an odd glimpse those places sometimes, passing on the road. Only in winter mind, when the trees were barer, though by then, the houses were equally bare, generally speaking.

He’d witnessed the other side once. Curiosity caught him and whilst gazing past the manicured gardens and statues of stone, he’d been startled to spot life in the house itself. Giant clumps of Rhododendron, themselves invaders, had shed the summer, affording views to the house beyond and revealing a woman moving within. A sallow skin and confident manner betrayed a non native and whilst her years may have even neared his, the yards may have been worlds apart.

He was reminded of that time as laughter drew his gaze to a couple in the corner, students probably, fresh from a visit back home. Not a common sight here but sometimes they would come and kill time maybe before a bus back to civilisation. He watched as they spoke together and caught some rays from the hearth comfortable in each others presence and unafraid of the world. Catching his glance she pulled her cardigan a little tighter around her and nestled closer to the flames. Embarrassed he turned back towards his pint. Shortly after, a coach cast shadows through the window of the snug and the couple left to join it, leaving empty glasses upon the counter.

Sometimes in his cups the wind would whisper to him faded memories of playing by the streams and running along the slopes. Along with his brothers they would chase the dragon flies and catch the frogs and small creatures that populated their world.
His mother then in flush of youth and his father still with them, stern and strong and proud, making what he could, working on the land. Land that lay farrow now untilled and unmarked and gone from them all. Death and taxes had taken their tolls. Such dreams were his only remembrance now and for his clan he remained the sole representative on earth.

The fire crackled and spat occasional embers out upon the hearth whilst the winds coughed and calmed in turn but continued always to lick upon the window panes. The optics sank slowly as the malt entered Seamus body and served a salve for the stout running beneath. A street sign flapped out front of garage and litter worried, dashed against the kerbside.

A couple of workmen came and went and the news had been and gone while Seamus remained alone upon the stool. The fishermen would come later and the remaining locals with only drink and each other for company. Some the regulars had been through and one had approached, asking re his special harvest. He didn’t like it being this way but once they paid a fair price he was not in a position to refuse. While they weren’t to know, the crop had failed two years now, withered whitened stalks mocking him as he pulled them useless from the ground. The reserves had just about lasted and some remained for Louis and such customers on whom he was reliant. But his own supplies had dwindled and he had been forced to travel further and become more creative. Reluctantly but with increasing dependence he had been taking to the higher grounds to supply more varied produce into his distillations.

Even the sheep rarely reached such parts, away above the sea where birds seldom nestled and shepherds feared to tread. It was mortal lonesome up in those hills. If a rogue sheep or expectant ewe did venture here the shepherd would be hasty about his work and return the animal to the slopes below with a shiver, pulling their woollens tighter and never without a husk of bread inside pocket, kept for such occurrences.

At once he became tired.

“That’ll do Louis” he said eventually.

Giving a gruff farewell he wandered out onto the street outside. Not yet nightfall but into the remains of the day he began the shuffle back towards base. Putting one leg before the other he regarded the crags above as he trod out his journey home.

Daylight whipped him into shape as he brustled up the slopes, the better to navigate by sight. A luxury but not a necessity though his feet were not so sure as one time.
The village vanished beyond as he threaded the trails and hauled himself up the last way. Reaching the house he moved inside and felt a shiver about his person. The hearth lay bare save for the embers of the chair he had fuelled it with last night. Parts of the bed frame and a last shelf of the dresser were stacked by the sill. A wooden crucifix adorned the wall above the grate although he was sure it too would feel the flames if needed. But not yet, he would warm himself in other ways before it came to that.

Working in the moonlight now he moved out back and picked a bottle from the shelf choosing carefully from his newest and as yet untested batch. Reaped from the highest ground, yet the grasses had formed a kind of malt blended with the potato poitin base.

Still inside the shed he twisted loose the cork, and raised the bottle to his lips taking a slow deliberate swirl. The heat warmed him instantly and he shuddered but with surer senses. With a second phial in his pocket he stepped out into the night. He looked at the house for a long slow minute before turning to regard the hill above. Though the wind howled around him he felt drawn and, unsure at first, but with gaining gait, he began to pick his way up the sheep trails towards the hilltop.

Drawing strength from his provisions, every so often he took rest upon a wall and glanced back around beneath him. The lough was stirring now as tides washed in from beyond and begun to push back the day. A tapestry of greens, browns and blues laid out before him like a fine carpet beneath his feet. Trees leaned towards the wind and punctuated the briar and gorse grass lands that swept up along the slopes. Some lights still twinkled away in the village but up here rabbit drops and woollen tufts were the only signs of life. In the lough some islands formed a breaker for the waves. He could see the sea in the far distance and the darkness was beginning its descent.

Hoisting up his haunches once more he picked his way across rock and more difficult terrain. Yet the dried grasses here provided a perfect source of materials to his hedge distillery. Whilst the spirit strengthened his resolve he felt the beginnings of his body starting to wilt. Almost smiling at the feeling he came at last in sight of the ruin where his family lay. Rain drops beating upon his back he stumbled once, then twice on the final ascent. He summoned the final effort to crawl across the site perimeter with the feeling in his bones reaching fever as he took another gasp of his grass liquer.

The ground beneath him crunched as bog turned to ice and low cloud began a long slow smother. He limped beyond the stone walls and onto the patches of lank white grasses that beckoned from beyond. His throat ached bone dry as he swallowed huge mouthfuls, then he tripped, smacking his head off the hawthorn and falling strewn upon the ground. His limbs turned to lead and a hunger swelled his belly. Crawling for the grasses, nails clawing into the earth, he brought the waves underneath his stomach as it began to churn and contort and his muscles to spasm. The grasses welcomed him, consoled him, and yet taunted him as they had always hosted those who had hungered before. As his head hit the ground his eyes rolled open, he could see green lips on blue bodies lying everywhere upon the ground and all around him his people keening calling until he became just one of many and finally at peace.

© 2009, James Lawless

My key timetable points below:

Naas & Sallins Rail Users Group – NASRUG

Timetable Feedback 2010.

Submitted: James Lawless
(Contact 086 834 8869, james@jameslawless.ie)

Morning ex Sallins

Problem: Too large a gap between 8.15 and 8.59
Solution: Restore 8.15 to 8.25 or add new train 8.30?

Evening ex Heuston

Problem: Gap between 18.50, 20.10, 21.10
Solution: Reschedule as 19.30, 20.22, 21.10?

Connecting Trains

Problem: Commuters charged extra for making connections e.g. via Newbridge
Solution: Allow season ticket holders this flexibility.

Capacity

Problem: Some trains now running as three carriages
Solution: Allow extra carriages on busier trains (e.g. 7.45 ex Sallins)

Sundays & Bank Holidays

Problem: No evening Sunday service home (last train departs 6.15pm)
Solution: Schedule later Sunday evening service, e.g. 7.30pm or 8pm

Problem: No bank holiday service at all
Solution: Run Sunday or other reduced service level on bank holidays.

(Later Sunday service especially important during championship summers!)

Good news this week as I have kept onto our Dáil reps and the council officials and got word through Deputy Fitzpatrick’s office that Killeenmore will now be granted a flood relief allocation of 20,000 this year, with work due to start in May.

This is badly needed and we will keep a watching brief to ensure delivery.

Minor Flood Relief & Coastal Protection Programme 2010 - Kildare County Council

• Butterstream, Clane Construction of flood relief structures €356,142
• Ardclough Construction / Replacement of canal & road crossings €306,410
• Confey, Leixlip Upgrade culvert €66,556
• Newtown, Kilcock Construct overflow pipeline €237,912

Total  €967,020

I am disappointed to note that Killeenmore, Sallins is omitted also no mention of Johnstown (although this may have been allocated separately as was discussed in detail at council recently). Much work has recently been completed at Kerdiffstown Sallins to address the culvert issue which caused the Waterways flooding but there may need to be additional measures there in time also.

Killeenmore is in most urgent need of flood relief works and I will be asking why the omission.

Meeting Report

NASRUG met with Irish Rail on Monday 25th March.

Present for NASRUG: James Lawless, John Cunniffe, Conor McGarry

Present for Irish Rail: Myles McHugh

1. Timetable

JL queried whether a new timetable could be introduced Summer 2010 due to KRP concluding. MMcH stated that line capacity in place but dependency on rolling stock. Stock on order for delivery 2011. Passenger numbers down at present. Next timetable to be introduced November 2010. Agreed a dedicated meeting would be held Autumn for timetable inputs.

JL Asked whether Docklands station might allow Phoenix park tunnel trains into town – answer no because Meath on track about to link in there via new line at Pace.

2. Punctuality

MMcH acknowledged punctuality had been an issue from Nov 09 thru Jan 10. Measures taken in Jan 10 by IR seem be working. NASRUG acknowledged recent improvement. Noted the 6.31am train still unreliable. MMcH to check this service.

3. Station Upgrade

JL asked when would the station upgrade finally take place? MMcH said that Sallins had “fallen between gaps” with KRP on one side and intercity station revamps on the other. Said design now in progress. Aiming provide disability access by end 2010. Dependent on department transport funding but MMcH said department had always supported disability projects to date. CCTV and other upgrades planned alongside. Access may not take form of lift possibly overhead ramp and bridge instead.

4. Miscellaneous

Smart cards currently being rolled out on DART line, may be rolled out later in year on Sallins line. Discussed repair work at station car park including broken bollards and patch ground. Useful discussion on future of underground carpark also. Asked whether bike rack can be secured with concrete, MMcH to progress. JC raised late boarding of 17.35 MMcH to investigate. Announcements raised (as always) and mismatched station announcements.

5. Infrastructure

Metro West investment received EU approval last week. Interconnector at advanced stage design.

————————————————————————————————————————

Coincidentally an article appeared in some local media last week surrounding the disability access issues at the station and suggesting the issue was in hand - sample coverage:(http://www.leinsterleader.ie/news/Sallins-train-station-to-get.6176342.jp).

The reports (which obviously followed the script of a press release) did not relate to what was discussed at the meeting, the information (for what it was worth) was not shared with those of us attending the meeting and I would have to wonder as to its timing and why this was released within the same week as the ‘official’ set piece meeting was due to take place. Could it have been an attempt to hog the headlines and displace the ‘official’ meeting in news cycles? Or am I too cynical?

It is possible to support a party without supporting its leadership. It is possible to support a party without supporting a government led by that party. Neither would be a normal situation but these are not normal times. I suspect there may be a number within the Fianna Fáil family falling into one or both of the above camps at present. A little like Catechism it can be argued that one is either “in or out” and that an a la carte approach is not possible. For my part I continue dining at my preferred restaurant but I do reserve right of judgement on the set menu.

Some good people were promoted yesterday and I am very plased for them. Dara Calleary, whom I know from old, is an intelligent, erudite and hard working politician. Very glad to see him moved up the chain. Pat Carey is another good performer ; a different mould but again capable and articulate – slightly surprised to see him in Gaeltacht affairs (as an urbane city gent) but like all good professionals, one must adapt and change as required. (Which incidentally, is exactly the skill our own commander in chief needs to develop.)

No problem with Tony Killeen and good to see a fellow yellow belly (Sean Connick from Wexford) move up the ranks. Batt O’Keeffee will be a safe pair of hands in enterprise and his robust approach may well bring a hardnosed effectiveness to the various negotiations involved. Bully boy tactics from Mick O’Leary and co won’t be expected cause Batt too much bother.

As for the curate’s egg… I am not about to commit complete hari kiri but .. for my liking .. very conservative… very cautious .. very late. Vacancies were filled and and a swap or two was made. It would appear minimal change was desired. Which is not what I felt was needed. I like Noel Dempsey, I like Dermot Ahern and I like Brian Lenihan (who is doing a fine job, better than many in the full of their health). But on the subject of health, there are many many Fianna Fáilers that could do at least as good if not a far better job than the independent TD from west Dublin. Likewise I would not have put the Tánaiste into Education and I would not have given the greens their power grabbing new junior. There is plenty of talent on the backbences and it appears under the current regime that is where it will stay. I would have thought this was not a time for making the minimum substitutions necessary; rather a time for throwing out the rulebook. I regret this may come to be seen as a lost opportunity up to and far beyond the next general election. Lord, help me to be hopeful.

I was in town (Dublin) in the afternoon, back to the day job, so rather than drive back to Sallins for the regular commute I decided to park up at Maynooth rail station and get the train in from there. I used get the train to Maynooth all the time, back in the distant past of the nineties, when my wife was a student there and I was in lil old Trinity up the road, but it had been a while. It’s a decent little station. Small sandwich shop and newsagents beside the ticket desk and modern conveniences like an electronic next train display. Parking was a bit mad with a very linear strip running alongside the canal - had to go to the very end to get a spot and queueing for little while coming out later on. Pay parking was in operation at the rate of €2 a day, €8 a week, same as Sallins except for the extra option of paying €30 for a four week ticket. The machines were branded CIE rather than Euro Parks, which might allow more flexibility re the tariff options.

A day return to Connolly was €6 so the trip cost me €8 in total. Still a lot cheaper than driving to town but maybe slightly more than I expected. Of course regular trippers will have annual or monthly tickets so likely to work out much better. And Maynooth benefits from being considered inside the commuter zone for Irish Rail so on a per mile basis is better value than Sallins, Newbridge or even Hazelhatch stations.

Good timetable, lots of trains, mine was punctual. Busy though, even middle of the day. I gather this Northern line has less of the punctuality difficulties that trouble its Southern cousin (i.e. the Sallins line) which is obviously a good thing. However given we are currently at a passenger low point, due to recession etc the car park was still brimming over, and there wasn’t a huge amount of spare seating – I imagine the service may struggle under normal / peak conditions. One to watch in future.PS If there are any Maynooth rail groups reading (are there any?) feel free to get in touch, we might compare notes.