This think-in had all that's good about a culture that thrives on songs and stories, writes Kathy Sheridan
A THINK-IN is a curious beast. A crash course in real life for slow politicians? A tonic for the troops? A bonzo knees-up? By 10am yesterday, the Clayton Hotel conference room bore a passing resemblance to an A&E unit as a couple of eminent medics took the podium to discuss Innovation in the Health Service.
The Battle of Ballybrit Bar, they would have noted with professional concern, had taken its toll on the Soldiers of Destiny. As the walking wounded trundled in, some trailing their wheelie kit-bags, it was evident that fully half the brethren had been left in the field.
A pale but feisty Mary Coughlan gave an impromptu press conference in the lobby. Asked about the bleak unemployment predictions, she said the Government was preparing "for the reality of people moving out of work".
As euphemisms go it ranks up there with "collateral damage".
Fianna Fáil knows how to throw a party and this one was a charming assemblage of all that is good about a culture that thrives on singing songs and telling stories.
Mícheál Ó Muircheartaigh gave a dinner talk that ranged over the centuries with tales and metaphors shaped by an array of sports, medals and the men who won them. The ethereal voice of Eleanor Shanley, along with Sharon Shannon and Dessie O'Halloran, prepared the way for an unexpectedly sweet, if lyrically ropey rendition of The Mountains of Mourneby the Taoiseach.
When Shanley confided that she once had a childish crush on Donnie Osmond, someone roared: "You mean Donie Cassidy" and brought the house down. It was that kind of party. Cassidy's was one of the two birthdays marked with cheers and applause; the second was Mattie McGrath's.
Another birthday boy called Bertie Ahern, who turned 57 last Friday, went uncelebrated and unremarked, a resounding rebuttal of the old adage that absence makes the heart grow fonder. The imminent demise of the PDs barely registered.
"I haven't seen a better cabaret show in years. We're the Irish party, the party people, the party of the people," said Senator Terry Leyden, relaxing in the hotel lobby the morning after, while the medics and the casualties laboured away upstairs.
"The Taoiseach is open and very much at home - just like you'd be at a family wedding. It shows great confidence that you can relax and be with your friends."
It's fair to say that there was some agonising and black humour about serious topics among the troops.
There was universal praise for the "inspirational" talk about Ireland's manufacturing prospects by Gerry Kilcommons, of Medtronic Galway, and for Prof Brigid Laffan about the meaning of the Lisbon No.
"Imagine if we voted No twice? . . . Jaysus," moaned one TD, summing up the Government's dilemma. They rolled their eyes about the economy: "I don't sense any anger on the ground . . . maybe that's because the water hasn't actually been cut off yet," said another wag.
They shuddered at the potential calamity of the local elections: "Maybe we could ask people to stay quietly at home and not vote . . . Sure what'd be the point of upsetting themselves," murmured another. And yet, no fewer than 700 prospective masochists, eh, candidates have already shown an interest in running for the Soldiers of Destiny, according to the Taoiseach.
To wind up, there was the traditional family photograph, which - history will show - features a laughing, happy crew. Donie, as always, was first out of the traps to take centre stage.
Mattie McGrath wore shades. Senator Geraldine Feeney was elegant in funky boots and jeans. Beverley Flynn stood to the side.
Will they be as perky this time next year?