Still life with heart and engineering brick

All will be revealed.

Happy St Patrick's day!

Oh, to be in Dublin! The only year I was allowed to go to the parade was in 1973, when our mother was in Mexico, looking for our father. Our carers took us. What a riot of colour, sound and moving floats! I was nine years old. When we got home, it was such a fine day that we children got out the hose and paddling pool and put on our cossies, ready to splash...

Unfortunately we were discovered, and told in no uncertain tones that the outdoor paddling season in Eire didn't start until at least June. Right now, we were reminded, it was only March.

That's grown ups for you! Always telling you you're not Irish when they have have actually given birth to you and educated you in Eire, and helped you to win prizes for Irish language; or trying to stop you catching pneumonia by paddling out of season! Spoilsports!

Praise be to our stand in mothers, who were Basque separatists in Dublin, during the Franco regime in Spain and the Troubles in the South (as well as the North) of Ireland. They let us attend the parade, and took us to our first ever football match.

They also helped to lend a flavour of internationalism and separatist politics to what could have been a very conservative upbringing in De Valera's Dublin.

Eamonn De Valera died about the same time. All the flags at Stillorgan shopping centre flew at half-mast, and Ireland withdrew from the Eurovision song contest.

Our mother returned from.Mexico, and Childers was elected for president. I was tremendously interested in the election, and delighted for Childers. Within six months I moved to an austere boarding school in Scotland, and a few months after that, Childers died in office.
Another reality check.