From Bath to Cork with Baby Grace

Iceland… that’s where David McWilliams has been, thinking…

David MCWilliams,

There’s something very biblical about your picture. Who survives: the good man or the bad man? How come Job got the toughest time of all?

I’ve been holding on to what I think is your central question this time:

“Maybe, if we want to avoid the Icelandic conundrum, where very good countries go bad, all we have to do is control the irrationality of the markets by heavy regulation.”

Maybe. Certainly we have experience of what’s happened under a non-existent touch regime. Not simply no regulation, but active encouragement of bankers to stop being so prudent. “Come on, join the party. Don’t be an old fuddy duddy…”

Lashing of bonus. Everyone keeping the score according to their bonus. Is it any wonder that the time for heavy regulation is at hand?

I think we’ll have to go for plenty of regulation.

Certainly, in Ireland, people are so used to bending the rules that ‘heavy’ rigid regulation by someone who has no Irish relatives and, preferably, can’t speak English… might help.

Light regulation was introduced in order to provide certain people with opportunities to accumulate wealth they couldn’t have achieved otherwise. It worked brilliantly for them. All the organs of state fell into their orchestra and played their composition.

Mr Lenihan and Mr Cowen are doing a fine job of perpetuating that system by ensuring the complex web of intrigue is still disguised.

Not one opposition leader has come out and demanded an end to the legal protection being provided by the office of corporate enforcement. Those names remain under wrap, thanks to Mr Lenihan’s excellent strategy of making the investigation a police matter rather than a parliamentary one.

We have heavy leaders.

Weighed down with their care for political cover up and survival in government. Our heavy leaders are not minded towards heavy regulation. They’re not even discussing it in public - that’s all European stuff, that we don’t need to bother with.

Our heavyweight leaders carry the weight of the world on their shoulders without complaint: they have every intention to staying on, like the Bishop of Cloyne.

Not for them retirement to the gym."

Now that I have my contract to write one article on business, fortnightly, I’m going to have regular dilemmas.

What topic to address, to publish, during these difficult days leading up to the budget?

It would be good to catch the public mood.  Perhaps.

But maybe something counter-cyclical would be better?  Counter-intuitive?

Last time I wrote about "How to expand your business during  the worst ever recession."

Maybe this time something micro would be good?

The problem is that there are so many angles, and I could probably write 20 articles.  Might be easier if I was asked to produce 20?

The challenge is to write something that…

(1) members of Goodbiz.ie (Goodbiz Business Association Ltd) like

(2) prods readers into clicking on another part of the site, and reading more.

Goodbiz.ie, my client, tracks what happens, and measures my performance accordingly.  I love the challenge.

I began today writing this in my "Intimate Journal":

"… I have an article to write and haven’t yet decided its shape.  I suppose the thing to do is to write about the difficultly of writing an article.

"Yes, use the Blog.  Blog about what it’s like to have 400 words to write, and the 400 words will emerge.

"Simple. QED.  This morning’s task.  Problem solved…

"Everyone’s going round constructing lists of good ideas

- David McWilliams web site

- Good ideas

-Re-inventing Ireland.

Let’s all brainstorm.

Focus on the ideas.    Mistake No.1    

Focus on allies :  focus on process of having interesting conversations.  Supporting each other.  Inspiring each other. 

Giving each other unexpected support.

Put yourself at risk of being opened up to new possibilities

- a completely new idea

- an old idea that you thought was hopelessly flawed

- something you tried before

Other people open your eyes.

3 Ideas coming through

(1) Focus on alliances, not ideas

(2) Make yourself vulnerable to being influenced

(3) Trust process - the Universe looks after its own. [The point is completely obscure.]

I better stop procrastinating and get on with the writing. 

You can read the result on Thursday 2 April over on goodbiz.ie.

I am unfit to review Michael Reeves’ exhibition which opened in The Hunt Museum yesterday.

Unfit, because I know the man since 1959.  We’ve been good friends a very long time.  So it would be inappropriate of me to pose as a detached critic/reviewer of the work.

But I can be a totally committed supporter of his eye and brush.

And I can also give a list of all the people I met there, during one of the best afternoons I’ve ever spent in Ireland.

Lionel Powell, sculptor & good friend with whom I travelled to Limerick

Mary Jackman, a Fine Gael senator & friend of Frances FitzGerald

Ursula Furlong, who was taking the orders for the paintings

Daragh Reeves, Michael’s son

Donal FitzGibbon, used to be in same class as me in school in Limerick

Brian Nolan, ditto, and one daughter Rachel

Brian Mooney, poet from East Clare, member of Three-Legged Stool Poets: he read a poem

Patrick Stack, poet who grew up in Limerick, who introduced me to ‘Tarzaroofs’

Arthur Watson, another Three Legged Stool poet: he read "The Field Mouse" poem

Ann Marie O’Connell from Ennis

Patrick Hurley, solicitor, who was one year ahead of me at school @ The Crescent

Judith Evans, Tulla, from the Home Counties

Brian Hartnett, Irish Advocacy Network

Peadar O’Loughlin, a luthier who introduced me to the word:  he makes violins

Marion Whyte, a healer from Ennis

Murdoch Lothian, who launched the exhibition, and agreed a poetic challenge with me

Peter O’Dowd, whom I’d not seen for 41 years, and with whom I’d played rugby, whose phone number I now treasure

Charlie McCoy, ditto, but I don’t think he played half as much rugby. 

I photographed the work

and 

and the proceedings and even wrote a short poem in the heat of the moment. [I’ll leave the poem to the end because I know poems embarrass many people.]

Paysage Intime

Colours of rain, shape of light, the twist of Clare’s roads

a tongue on canvas, feasting on memories digested and savoured

Michael Reeves plays the game in The Hunt Museum

among some ancient monuments, lads from school,

people he picked up on the road…

The voice of this particular painter is loud behind the brush.

The news is that I’ve been commissioned to write a fortnightly piece about business for this new venture.

I bought this book today (written by Riso & Hudson).

I want to read it because I’ve found myself as a type among the 9 main Enneagram types.

I also want to read it because I am not any of the 8 other types, and am married to one of them.

Most of my life I think I wished I could live with myself. 

I don’t mean alone.  Never wanted to do that, but what I wanted was for the other person to be more like me, ideally exactly like me.  If the other person was exactly like me, there would be no fights.  All would be harmonious.  No pain.

I went out of my way to interpret what the other did as if it was something I’d do myself.  I didn’t notice the differences between me and the other person.  I minimised them.  I failed to recognise the other as a completely different unique person.  You could justly say I projected my self on to the other person and related to that persona.  Often I never met the other person.

I cringe as I write this. 

How many years of therapy have I had in order to unravel such stupidity. How many misunderstandings?

Who is the other?

I think the Enneagram will help me find out.

Mr Michael Kennedy TD had put himself out to argue a comprehensive case against RTE and in defence of the office Mr Cowen occupies.

What follows is very long… I posted it on Leave Conor Casby Alone Facebook Group     I have done my best to address each of his points.

 ___________________________________

 Dear Mr Kennedy,

It is great to see an elected TD show his powers of reasoning: it is vital for citizens to see into the minds of our elected representatives.

"6. In my opinion, the particular broadcast denigrated and belittled the Office and position of An Taoiseach, the Prime Minister of our country. I hold the view that the Office of An Taoiseach / President / Government Minister are bigger than the individuals who hold the position."

Forgive my impulse to say that I agree the office of Mr Cowen is bigger than Mr Cowen himself. Mr Cowen’s office has at its disposal all the organs of state. It is indeed a big and powerful office. The challenge for Mr Cowen is to be big enough to represent that office responsibility and resist the temptation to allow his office to be used irresponsibly, I suggest.

"7. The manner in which the item was broadcast was a gross insult to the Office of An Taoiseach and I would hold the same view if Enda Kenny or Eamon Gilmore held Ministerial positions."

Thank you for such a clear statement. It is difficult to put your point in context. ‘Gross insult’ is a phrase but I have no way of knowing what you would consider a ‘mild’ insult, or an insult deserving prison or worse. I wonder what you’d say if asked for another example of a ‘gross insult’? I have too much respect for your views to take the interpretation that you are using the word ‘gross’ in relation to Mr Cowen’s figure.

"8. The fact that RTE immediately withdrew any further broadcasts before any apology was sought proves they believed it was an inappropriate broadcast."

When you say ‘proves’ what do you mean? Do you mean that it ‘proves’ it to you? If so, you are fully entitled to accept whatever proofs you like. I will defend you right to take anything you like as proof. However, we live in a community. Asserting something is proof, without successful persuasion, is unlikely win you many converts to your point of view. You persuade those who don’t need to be persuaded, your teammates, I submit."

"9. Neither I nor anybody in Fianna Fáil requested the Gardaí to get involved."

Prove this please. You see you haven’t stopped the Gardai staying involved. So the onus of proof lies with you, I’m afraid.

"10. The Galleries in question have confirmed they sought the help of the Gardaí in relation to the breach of security."

Good point. However, the key question is surely why? The relationship between Galleries and the power of the office of the Taoiseach is far from a relationship of equals. If a 12 year old child does something under the influence or peceived influence, of a 40 year old adult, no one holds the child responsible, surely.

"11. The lack of security at these Galleries raises questions – if a valuable painting was stolen in such a casual act, would there not be public uproar?"

Hypothetical. Red herring. Rhetoric - that’s how this seems to me.

"12. The fact that anybody can casually walk in with a picture under one’s arm, pass the door security, walk along the corridors and hang a painting in some exhibition room without any of the Gallery staff witnessing the event is worrying. What if a terrorist planted a bomb or as I have said above, stole a painting?"

Dramatic. What if they urinated on the floor, or brought a potty … It is going to be hard to make a meeting of minds if we launch off in such interesting directions.

The more carefully I consider your points the more I feel I’m in touch with the strongest cast that your colleagues can make, and the more grateful I am to you for representing it.

 ________________________________________

Mr Kennedy TD, please don’t feel obliged to respond to each of my points. I am doing this out of love. Unpaid time. We citizens pay you a salary to work on such issues and it is Friday evening: time surely for you to rest after the fray.

"13. I regard myself as having a sense of humour and see politicians and others in public life as ‘fair game’ but insulting the Office of An Taoiseach is ‘not on’."

Your self-conception is something you are entitled to. I regard it was one of your fundamental rights: you are free to believe anything you like about yourself, and others for that matter. It will be difficult to persuade most people that you are altruistic enough to regard FF politicians as ‘fair game’ but you give me hope. When say it is ‘not on’ to insult the office of Taoiseach, I worry that I do not understand you. What would you do with me if I were to insult the office? What would you urge others to do with me? What would you turn a blind eye at if I were so guilty.

Unfortunately, I think of the unever balance of power. On one side the organs of state available to the office holder. On the other side, I sleep unprotected in my house. Would you protect me if I insulted the office and people were angry? Who has protected the teacher painter?

"14. If RTE felt the need to include the Sunday Tribune ‘story’ in a news item, they could have reported that 2 Galleries had called in the Gardaí to investigate a breach of security without resorting to ‘gutter style’ attack on the office and position of An Taoiseach."

Perhaps you consider you could run RTE better than RTE? As regards ‘gutter style’, what do you mean by using this judgmental phrase? Please. Do you mean an attack which was particularly effective at communicating with the vast majority of citizens whatever their level of academic education?

I’m unsure how to understand the difference between the ‘office’ and ‘position’ of An Taoiseach. There must be a difference in your mind, but I don’t grasp it.

"15. The international reputation of Ireland can do without our Prime Minister being ridiculed on our national television station."

Agree fully with you. However, there is a snag. You can’t be easily ridiculed if you don’t put yourself in a ridiculous position. It wouldn’t stand up. Crude inappropriate ridicule would be ignored. Unfortunately the popularity of the images, and incredibly interest in the way in which the office holder has handled this upset, suggests that there is something ridiculous here.

Of course, after the fact, we can all think of how he might have handled it with aplomb. There are those who consider that if he’d handled this differently, the fortunes of our political party might have been helped.

"I conclude by saying I felt outraged by the RTE broadcast and I hope I have explained my position."

You do indeed feel outraged. I believe you. I also accept that you hope you have explained your position. I believe you have been courageous and bold (in the best meaning of that word).

Time will tell whether you will turn the tide of international opinion and local opinion. One think is sure, no one will ever accuse you of standing idly by while your leader was lampooned.

_____________________

It would be careless and unrespectful of me to leave you PS without considering it too.

"P.S.1. Kindly advise your address for my records."

My address is Paul O’Mahony, 1 Crawford Woods, Glanmire, Cork."

P.S.2. If this ‘portrait’ was of a woman, would you agree there would be public outrage?"

Hypothetical again. A red herring. We have enough substance to discuss, I suggest.

"P.S.3. Do the feelings of Mrs. Cowen and her two daughters matter in this ‘toilet humour’? What of Brian Cowen’s ageing and sick mother?"

May I begin by saying that I do not know Mrs Cowen and ‘her’ (surely their) daughters. Neither did I know that Mr Cowen ’s mother is ageing and sick. My own mother is ageing (indeed so am I) and I would be grateful if you would pass on my best wishes to her. May she recover and be as well as possible.

What she must think of her son. He has done well in life. She must be terribly proud of him. So must his wife and daughters.

However, my heart goes out to them. If only Mr Cowen had thought more of them before behaving like this. If only he’d put his family first, before what many consider to be his substantial ego. Honestly I can’t understand how he’s put his family through all this.

Now that you’ve my name and address, may I invite you to carry on the discussion, in public if you like, in Cork or even your constituency. We could podcast it, or do it privately.

There are few public representatives who would have argued their case point by point in such an accessible manner. I thank you for helping me clarify my point of view.

In one respect we are equal: one vote each.

All the best,

Paul O’Mahony
(Omniiblog)
Twitter: @omaniblog

And then I discovered he’s a director of the Irish Central Bank, and thought about it…

THE BOARD OF DIRECTORS

So he’s become a guilty man in my book. [One of my heroes smashed to pieces.]

Either

(1) he knew what was going on and kept quiet, remaining on the Board, taking the money or

(2) he didn’t know what was going on, asleep on the job and disgraced trade unionists.

Suddenly it’s all a lot clearer.

David Begg is vulnerable.  The government have him in their pocket.  He knows so much, and did so little, the government retain the power to destroy his career.  They don’t.  He’s much more use to them as a sleeper.

So, when there’s a crisis looming, goverment can rely on their David Begg to be the voice of reason and, hey presto, the strike is off…

Crisis averted.

Deep thinking eh?

I’ve just realised how even more impressive the Irish government is being…

First, you give the impression that the worst budget in Irish history is coming.

- the most hairshirt and possibly the one that screws everyone -

Everyone fears the worst.

You let the public finances get worse and worse, and make yourself seem helpless.

Next [and this is la piece de resistance] you bring in a budget which isn’t quite as awful as everyone feared.

Public reaction: relief, initial lowering of tension, initial improvement in Lenihan’s image.

Gone the impulse to sweep the government from office long before next election.

Gone the impression that Lenihan & Cowen are two dead ducks without proper clothing.

So the government’s think tank on how to cling to office has done its job.

And we move inexorably towards the point where government ministers have accrued extra years on their Dail pension entitlement… [special thanks to my FF mole for teaching me this angle].

(1) The Irish government did a great job of killing consumer demand during since Xmas.

Mr Lenihan, minister for finance, must be delighted.  His plan to threaten us with a draconian April budget has worked splendidly.  I’m glad I’m not a straightforward retail seller.

So far, the Minister has not revealed how much disposable income he intends to confiscate in the budget. This is another splendid move to further depress spending: nothing works better than fear of the unknown.

Right now, no one knows how much we’ll have to spend after the budget.  Some people might have nothing, or less than nothing.  It remains to be seen.

Imagine the kick you’d get out of being in such a position of power: the whole country waits on your decision.  Must be a bit like a Roman Emperor of old, eh. 

(2) Ever so impressive the way the government has persuaded the strike to be called off.

Brilliant use of the media.  Now, the Irish Congress of Trade Unions is in talks and can’t bring people on to the streets.  Social unrest quelled.

QED.

The government lives to fight another day.  Harold Wilson said: a week is a long time in politics.

(3) I submit this overall assessment of Irish government :

this is an amazingly impressive government.  Any other government would have imploded by now.  Is it any wonder the Greens are in there?

Darling,

you are 3 and a half years old on Tuesday.

As your Dad, it’s my job to play lions with you over breakfast.  My responsibility to make you food for your creche.  And certainly my role to deliver on my  promises.  So when I said I’d  bring you a  book about rabbits from Alicante, I knew I had to move hell and high water to do that.  My word was my bond.

There was one Irish guy who quipped ‘ah, she’ll forget.  She’s only three. You don’t have to worry about that.’  But I couldn’t return home without your rabbits, and so you got Peter Rabbit.  Flopsy, Mopsy, Cotton Tail and Peter - the joy of pronouncing their names.  Thank you little girl.  You’ve made your dad a happy man.

But I must warn you. 

I’ve brought you to a country where people don’t often keep their word.  Where people don’t like to be tied down by their word… where people like to keep their options open until the last minute.

For example: it’s almost impossible to get anyone to agree to come to dinner more than a few days ahead.  Grace, I took you from a country where I was used to fixing dinner dates six months ahead, business meetings six weeks in advance, where it was normal for people to carry diaries and make appointments they would keep.

I’ve transported you to a very different culture.

Yesterday my accountant told me she’s email me the completed tax return for me to check before sending it to Revenue today.  She ‘promised’.  I guess she got a better offer.

And she’s Head of something in one of the big accountancy firms operating in Ireland.

My instinct, my apoplectic reaction, is that I wouldn’t put her in charge of a First Holy Communion party. My fierce side thinks I’ll compile the dossier of broken or unfulfilled promises (and there have been at least 5) and send it to the MD of the Irish operation, with a copy to the international CEO.

But I won’t.  It’s not always best to follow your instincts.  Instead I’ll carry on trying to understand this perplexing culture.

Years ago "Street Corner Society" by William Foot Whyte…

learned me that apparently unorganised cultures have their own logic, mores, values, customs.  The challenge is to get in among them and strive to understand.  That’s why I was trained as a sociologist, why I used to teach people how to do sociological research.  Often it’s best to understand the other, rather than give in to the impulse to destroy what you can’t grasp.

But Grace,

you had no hand, act or part in the decision to return to this strange country.  Actually that’s not fully true : if you weren’t born, we’d still be in UK I suspect.  So it was your fault we’re here.  You brought me here, and it’s your fault I have to put up with a people who have different rules.

It’s your fault I have been gifted this challenge.

All those who don’t do boring things like keep their promises - I love them too.  They are anthropological challenges for me.  Of course, I’ve broken promises: I was late for a meeting with Garry yesterday.  It’s my broken promises that gives me a position from which I can empathise with the natives.

Dear child of my dreams, you’ll be native here.

And I’ll love you to bits no matter how you turn out.

This morning Omaniblog made his position clear on Madame Poulet’s blog

1. Paul O’Mahony (Omaniblog)

   I think it’s utterly disgraceful that this blog [Madame Poulet] should give publicity to the RTE apology. It fuels the situation. Those so-called cartoons of Brian Cowen were an affront.

   Remember his family and friends: do they not have the right to live without having their nearest and dearest depicted in such a disrespectful manner?

   This is our Taoiseach. Our leader. Our first citizen. The person on whom we depend to find a way back for Ireland. And some non-entity has the cruelty to put ink to canvas in a way that draws attention to the figure of our democratically elected Mr Cowen.

   I ask you, was the artist elected? Would the painter be prepared to stand for election in the same constituency as Mr Cowen? Then we’d see what the real Irish people think of both sides.

   As for your blog, Madame, how dare you prolong the embarrassment. You should be ashamed of yourself and I expect nothing less that an apology from you - or else you can be sure I won’t be voting for you next time. You were elected to represent Irish bloggers. As the so-called best in class, don’t you feel any duty to prevent the circulation of ridicule.

   The least you might have done would have been to publish a decent painting of Mr Cowen, who, when clothed, is as fine a figure of a man as Ireland is fortunate to have. You should publish the two side by side so that we, your readers, can see balance in action.

   As for those who call for a day of action, when loads of people who are no good as artists and would never have a painting of their’s ever hung in any decent house would abuse their talent by making further images of the one man we should trust to recover Ireland, words fail me. The plain people of Ireland know their mind. Not one single parish will invite any of those sort of people to exhibit their work.

   It’s time you stopped inflaming the national crisis. RTE should never have apologised. Typical of them, they apologise in order to draw attention to the original offence. You refer to RTE as being craven. Frankly I wouldn’t give a Craven A to anyone of that shower: they are clearly out to get Brian. First publicise the offending cartoons; next apologise for publicising them - and above all preserve the whole sorry incident for posterity.

   I look to the Church to show the right way to deal with this. Do you see any bishop coming out demanding an apology? No, you see dignified, condemnatory silence.

   I wish there was a way in which I could say all this to you without sullying my keyboard. I can tell you I’ve deleted every image of Mr Cowen unclothed, and every image of that smug woman apologising from my hard drive. I wish you would do the same.

2. on 25 Mar 2009 at 07:24 # Paul O’Mahony (Omaniblog)

   In order to take those disgraceful, pornographic ‘paintings’ out of circulation for ever, I am today launching a public appeal for funds to buy them.

   I’m sure many of your decent readers, if you have any, will be willing to contribute to the purchase fund. I think it a national duty to ensure no future generation sees such filth.

   I have a house with a deep dark cellar, where the paintings could be hung in perpetuity and perhaps, in a gesture of generosity, someone will burn the house down.

   Shortly after, I was outed by 

   Twenty Major

   As for your blog, Madame, how dare you prolong the embarrassment. You should be ashamed of yourself and I expect nothing less that an apology from you - or else you can be sure I won’t be voting for you next time. You were elected to represent Irish bloggers. As the so-called best in class, don’t you feel any duty to prevent the circulation of ridicule.

   You need to get off your high horse. Suzy wasn’t ‘elected’ to do anything and how dare you speak to her or anyone else who has highlighted this issue in that manner. Who are you to slur her readers, or any other blogger who has run with this story? I’m sure Suzy can live without your vote ‘next time’.

   Seriously, you need to step back, take a good look at what you’ve written in the last two comments, and then think about getting some help, because you are quite clearly deranged.

I was in a pub last night.  A very senior figure from Fianna Fail came up to me in the dark corner.

"Don’t you realise why Brian (Lenihan) hasn’t moved against Fingleton?"

"Go on."

"Follow the money.  What would it take to nobble Brian and have him give the impression the FF is in the pocket of the banker?  It would take a lot wouldn’t it?  After all it’s not helping our chances in the elections is it?"

"Say more.  I’m listening."

"Look, follow the money.  Only something much worse could be stopping Lenihan & Cowen from sorting Fingleton out, right?  Think about it.  That means Fingleton has something on either or both Brians.  Use you noddle."

"You mean…?

"Yes.  I do. And I’m not going to spell it out for you, but you can be sure Fingleton knows exactly what Brian squared has been up to.  Private stuff, that, if it came out, would finish one of them off, maybe both."

"What is it?"

"Look, that’s for me to point to and you to follow up. You’ve seen the film."

I turned to get a bit of my pint.

Turned back.  He was gone, into the shadows.

I wasn’t my idea to go to Alicante.

The lads decided.  I fell in with the crowd.  If I’d compiled a list of the top 150 places in Europe for golf, Alicante wouldn’t have been there.  If it was a list of the top 500 places for R&R, including food, Alicante wouldn’t have had a look in.

But now that I’m back in Glanmire, I might go live in Alicante.  I could easily be tempted to pack up and move there.

What follows is the story of how my prejudices were confounded, and my world enriched.

It wasn’t a huge surprise to be hit by the light. 

I already knew Mediterranean light was wonderful.  But it was a shock, after the atmosphere of Ireland.  After the fine weather that saw us off, I thought Alicante’s sunlight was going to be essentially the same, only warmer.  I was not prepared for the dryness of the light, the clarity, lucidity and  vivid appearance of the whole world by the sea.

It’s probably that I’m a novice photographer.  And also that, as a poet, I’m always looking for a way through to the other side.  Much and all as I love the atmosphere in which I am immersed, and want to do it justice, I’m always peering through.  My first impression of Alicante was a sensation of being able to see clearly and connect easily with the place, without being too distracted by that which is between me and the other.

Crazy that I could be entranced by the high-rise buildings round the bay. 

Mad that I could see something rich in the grot of development.  Because you see I conflated Alicante with Benedorm with an era of dreadful architecture that desecrated the landscape.  It was as if Spain was seduced into taking quick returns, mass tourism and uglyness. I was visiting the heart of that mistake and finding myself respond in a new way to it.

In the taxi from the airport I thought ‘all the mess can come down; I don’t need to be all that upset at it; I can be amused.  Perhaps it’s my experience of working for The National Trust: it encouraged me to think long-term.  Thus I was relieved of the excitement of disapproving of the architecture.  I relaxed into it.  Tension fell away.

Now that I’ve started, I see no difficulty about extending this essay into a long book.  I feel I could draw value from every minute of the Alicante experience, and bring out into the open so many learnings.

I won’t do that now.  I have a notebook in which I have notes from which I could reconstruct and ‘deconstruct’. 

Let me focus now on food.

We had to eat after golf.  My brother David led us to Maria Jose San Roman’s restaurant. 

We had three meals with her. She, the mother, has one restaurant; next door is her daughter’s tapas bar, cafe and restaurant. It’s a little family cluster.  The best eating experience I’ve ever had in my life. I think.  As close to perfection as I’m ever likely to experience, I suspect.

I like certain kinds of places best.  Not for me the stuffy white table cloths with their hovering waiters who top up your wine for you.  Not for me the maitre d’eee who knows it all and helps me feel overwhelmed.  Now for me the smart alex who knows I what I should drink without ever asking me what sort of wine I like.  I also like a place where I can make a mess, spill some wine and breadcrumbs on the cloth, drop my coffee and recover to carry on the story.  Above all, I love meeting real people, real cooks, real owners, real service carried out by people who talk to you.  Don’t just say things at you that sound as if they come from customer  service 101 manual.

I always want the inside story: how long the waiter’s been working here? When did the restaurant first open its doors?  Who’s eaten here before?  If someone died at the table over baked alaska so much the better. I am a little obsessive about detail. What I want most from the eating experience is conversation: I want to take the food forgranted.  I want to assume it will be brilliant.  I don’t live to eat; I eat to live.  But I don’t eat any old shit easily.

Maria choreographed and directed the experience.  I think she also went into the kitchen and cooked some of it.   All I did was say to her ‘feed me please’ - I leave it all to you.  ‘What do you like?’ ‘Whatever you want to give me.’

So I abandoned all power to her.  I knew I was safe in her hands.  I knew that from the conversation with which she greeted us.  It probably takes me about two minutes to satisfy myself that I am in the company of my kind of person.  After that I’m happy to place all  my trust in the other person’s expertise.  If Maria had brought me a dish I didn’t like, I wouldn’t have minded.  I would have learned something valuable.  An experiment would have delivered unexpected results.  That’s what science is all about.

I could list the food.  Maybe I will if anyone’s interested to know.

and

The amazing thing was being looked after by the best restaurateur I’ve ever met.  I felt I was getting personal service.  But, remember, I was one of a gang of 10 Irish men out to have a good time.  She gave personal service to each individual around that table. I felt I was witnessing a epicurean genius at work.

It was astonishing to find out that Ferran Adria (elBulli) has eaten there.

And even the coffee was good.

The Mugging…

So I set out to wander my way alone to the Casino at 1.30am.  Still plenty of people out walking the street.  Five drunks huddled together over a bottle of wine, maybe spirit.  I’m in a good mood. One of them get up and comes towards me, arms raised in friendly greeting.  He hugged me.  I hugged him.  His friends joined in.  We  three hugged. It got a bit enough, so I stepped out of the embrace.  ‘Enough.  Stand back.  Stop….’  Still no problem.  But where’s my wallet.  I thought I had it in my inside pocket, my trousers, my bag…

Jesus Christ these bastards have got my wallet.  Fucking shit.  You bastards.  Give me back my wallet.

They are backing off now,  moving away from the open walk towards the backstreets.  ‘Come back here.  They’ve stolen my wallet, I call out to the public of Alicante.  A voice whispers to me: let them go, they could knife you, back off.  It’s done.  There’s nothing to do but be safe.

I was surrounded by young people, students surely.  They saw what happened.  They wanted me to call the police.  They were good people.  Concerned young citizens.  I wasn’t going to spend an hour filling out forms, talking to police whom I couldn’t understand.  I speak no Spanish.  I wasn’t ever tempted to report the mugging to the cops.  I said to myself I can do that tomorrow - to keep the crime statistics right.

So I carried on to the Casino.  I carried on with the life I had before the mugging.  No money now, no plastic either.  But I did have my passport. That got me in to the Casino.  I fell asleep there and a kind me tapped me on the shoulder and offered me coffee.

The wonderful thing is that in Alicante I was able to carry on my life without being distracted by a mugging. [If I’d had 600 euros in the wallet, it might be a different story.]  Was it Alicante?  Was it me?  Was it the Universe?  Right now, I’m simply thrilled that I’ve been able to draw value from being mugged.  I even got the idea of writing an article about it, selling it round the world, and making more money than I lost.

What else did I do in Alicante?

I haven’t said anything about what it was like to promenade by sand and sea.  To look down from the old Moorish castle on 360 degrees. 

To meet loads of people from other places, like Norway and Middlesborough.   Nothing about the rugby, the golf, the painting I bought there.

I began saying Alicante was the kind of place I’ve spent my life avoiding.  I’m tempted to go back there, rent a small apartment and live.  So I’m still in shock, you  might say.

Sitting in kitchen, sipping tea, half-listening to radio news, I thought a startling thought today…

It’s a relief to hear about murder, accidents on ski slopes and festivities. Instead of the long slow drip of economic and political news from Ireland.  The economic & political stuff makes me angry.  Murder, accidents & festivities leave me in much better mood.

To go away from Ireland, feeling I’ve done my best by the community… what can I do?

Two reminders:

(1) We still don’t know the names of the ‘Maple’ 10 (the Golden Circle of property developers).  We haeve 4 of 10. Every day that passes, people forget this; they can’t remember what this is all about.  In the background are lawyers.  Lawyers briefed by the guilty men.  Lawyers who’ve threatened the media from revealing the names.  The guilty ones are powerful - in my mind they’re straight out of a Ludlum novel (without the Nazi connection).

There is a network being kept secret.  If it came out who was in the network, it would be dynamite. Fianna Fail would be irreparably damaged.  So Mr Lenihan, on Mr Cowen’s behalf, has ensured the names are secret.

(2) Paul Appleby, director of corporate enforcement, wants to increase his budget from 5.4  million euro per year.  He wants more money to pay for a big increase of investigation of possible fraud.  By seeing to bring legal prosecutions, Mr Appleby is preventing the truth from coming out.  I think this is a genuine conspiracy, led by Mr Lenihan.  He wants the "Golden Circle" kept out of the news.  He wants to kick the issue of what really happened into touch, into the long grass.

Omaniblog is a small voice with hardly any influence. 

If you  have influence, please stop all legal proceedings against bankers.  To bring the truth out into the open, we better give immunity from prosecution.  Otherwise, we’ll be enriching lawyers.

To which class does Mr Lenihan belong?  He is a lawyer.  An intelligent, purposeful one.

If you feel there is nothing you can do about all this, talk to your neighbour.  Every day talk to people you know and a few new contacts.  This is how public opinion works.  The trick is to keep your target firmly in mind.

I love you all, including the bankers and their politicians.

Hopefully, Omaniblog will be back on line and in person, after Spain.

David McWilliams,

What a joy it is to read such clarity and inventiveness. You find wonderful ways of hooking my interest and ground your analysis in uncluttered thinking. Thank you very much.

I’m off to Spain in the morning and won’t be reading over there. For those of you [on David’s blog] who find my obsessions intolerable, it’ll be a welcome relief, I suspect.

It’ll also do me good to take a break for the commentary on here. I’ll have a fresh view when I get back. I won’t bother to catch up then, but if anyone particularly wants to bring their comment to my attention, please use the Facebook Group site.

Yes

“Ireland should implement a seven-year fiscal plan now, which would allow us to broaden the tax base gradually with the key notion of delivering proper services and productive infrastructure. Nobody needs to panic…”

Saturday’s FT reported:

(1) Equities round the globe surged. Anthony Bolton, fund manager @Fidelity Investments said “I think there are the first signs of things maybe changing for the better”

(2) Peter Mandleson said France was better at setting strategic goals and objectives than UK - as in energy and transport

(3) David Cameron “admitted that his party had failed to do enough to warn about rising levels of corporate and banking debt. The Tories also erred by predicating their policies on the basis of the ‘cosy economic consensus’ that economic growth would continue, he stated.”

On my blog [here] I’ve asked ‘what’s the worst that could happen?’, and have begun to collect views. I’ve taken the same question around the small housing estate where I live. So far, there is consensus that none of us will be out on the street, homeless; no one’s electricity will be turned off, and my next door neighbour is starting to grow his own food.

If you have a roof over your head, food to eat and your mental health intact, you have enough. Anything else is a bonus.

Of course, we have had a particularly awful shower of politicians. But I expect them to be there when I get back.

It’s a pity that there are only about 19 individual contributors on here [on David’s blog]. If it’s going to remain healthy, it’ll need to attract more voices in. Cliques tend to form where …

In case you’ll like to read my most coherent piece on how to grow your business during a deepening recession, click over on to “www.goodbiz.ie” tomorrow where it should be published.

If you’re a really really generous person, please let me know what you think of the piece.

In case you’re wondering, Spain is all work: nothing but looking for new business ideas, sharing them and ensuring a bit of balance in life. And that’s where the golf comes in.

The days comes when you know your daughter will become a famous painter…

because her mother is wonderful at encouraging her, and the child has the genes…

She might even turn out to be a better painter than her godmother…

Recently I wrote about an opportunity I’d been given to write regularly about business for a new venture.

The good news is that the client liked my first piece.  He’ll publish it tomorrow.

Here’s a sneak preview…

Paul O’Mahony, O’Mani & Co, writes…

How to do business in our deepening recession?

Even more importantly, how do you expand your business while others are contracting? This is the question on every business mind.  If you are not addressing it, you may be stuck in trouble, and your business may be in need of an injection of new ideas.

Let me offer you some suggestions:

(1) Think about your business in a new way.  Whatever form is has now, this isn’t the only possibility.  If you think about your business as a fixed entity, you miss opportunities for growth. Your business is not the building.  Not the structure.  Nor is it your current market.  Your business is you.  You are your brand.  You might dip into Tom Peters "Reinventing Work: the Brand You", or even "The Tao of Pooh".  Imagine how you might diversify your business into fairly new areas, without losing touch with your core values.

(2) Talk to some new people.  You already know certain ideas and ways of thinking.  They’re your problem.  Unless you broaden your range of contacts, where will you get help from?  At all costs, don’t confine your conversations to those you’re already familiar with. Ask people if they think it’s possible to expand business during a deep recession? Go round with a notebook and show people you are noting their ideas…

_______________

To read more, you’ll have to go to www.Goodbiz.ie tomorrow, or Thursday.  Hopefully you’ll find it there, and can have a read for free.

I’ll be in Spain.  When I get back, there will be a commercial discussion about future commissions.  This one I wrote for free.

Perhaps you’ll tell me what you think it’s worth, how much I should charge?

I never thought I’d enjoy it so much.

The last St Patrick’s Day parade I was at was about 1962. Limerick.  I may have watched it from an upstairs room in O’Mahony’s Bookshop.

I certainly remember watching parades from above Hanley’s Chemist on O’Connell Street in the 1950s.

In those days, everyone wore shamrock.  I saw one person in shamrock today.

News:

This blog is going on holiday.  It’s author will be in Spain, and he hasn’t been organised enough to engage the services of a sub.  It’s very unlikely, but not impossible that something will be put up from Spain.  The laptop is staying at home for a holiday.

Back again on Wednesday 25 March, by which time Omaniblog expects Brian Cowen to have seen the error of his ways, and decided he better avoid being remembered as the absolutely worst leader the Irish have ever had.

I might Twitter from Alecante.