WE like visitors in our school. Maybe because we don't have many. A case of "An rud is annamh is iontach." They generally write a letter to inform us of date and time of arrival, and also to state reason for calling. Next they phone to ask for directions. We're always very amenable, gracious and courteous. Last week we had such a visitor. He was expected. We were prepared for him. He had a very specific brief.

He was a compulsive talker. A very jolly guy. He told us his watch was broken. It was a soccer watch. He had to get a new strap for it. He didn't watch the soccer match the previous evening because he had to visit his girlfriend. The children all laughed. You see he was dressed in clerical garb. A priest. A girlfriend?

Oh, yes, he has a girlfriend. She is 23. More laughter. Did they think this is too old for him, too young? Embarrassed giggles. Yes, she is 23 . . . months! Loud laughter. She is a dote. Her name is Lian. You had to spell it that way because it was made up of part of her father's name (Liam) and her mother's name (Ann).

He had married them. His brother owns a dog, a Gerperson shepherd. It was important to be politically correct. This little joke was lost on the children, but the teacher was mildly amused. The dog's name was Remy.

He asked the children to say the name. They willingly complied, but he wasn't impressed. You have to raise both hands in a continental gesture, roll the R and then say it. He asked them to try again. They did. He was much better pleased.

Next he showed them how to spell the dog's name. They probably thought it was Remy but, NO, it was spelt Rreemmii. He asked the children to spell it. They did. Splendid.

Next he asked them to sing a song. They agreed. He hoped it was a Daniel O'Donnell song. Embarrassed laughter and loud denials. They proceeded to sing their song. After first verse and chorus our garrulous reverend visitor remarked to me in a mischievous fashion that he supposed there were about 50 verses in it. I assured him that there were only three.

When the last note was sounded he was off again. He himself was a very bright child. So bright that he went from Low Infants to Sixth Class all in one day. Much hilarity.

The bishop told him to let the children off homework that night because they were so good. Loud cheers. Then he made his exit.

I asked the children what they thought of our visitor. Their comments were, as always, direct, perceptive and benign. Somebody mentioned Craggy Island, but we hastened to remind him that it was only an imaginary place which had nothing to do with real life. Out of the mouths of babes . . .