Still open for business at Stormont

It's a sure sign of crisis when the mundane continues alongside the crazy. And so it was at Stormont yesterday.

It's a sure sign of crisis when the mundane continues alongside the crazy. And so it was at Stormont yesterday.

Despite the fevered atmosphere and the apparent outnumbering of MLAs by journalists, those whose business it is to work normally did just that. The nine-to-fivers at Parliament Buildings got on with it as the winds of 'Stormontgate' gathered force.

In the lavish Great Hall, party after party queued up for its turn at the thicket of microphones to address the Press. A school tour arrived amid the mêlée and excited schoolgirls flocked around Gerry Adams as he waited for Mark Durkan to finish a long sentence and vacate the camera spotlights. If this was an indication of voting trends among the soon-to-be enfranchised, then the SDLP is surely in trouble.

There were surprises galore too. A public slap on the wrists for Jeffrey Donaldson from his party leader. "A period of silence from you would be welcome," he told a press conference with a schoolmasterly furrowing of the brow. He was clearly in the mood for the dramatic. This affair was 10 times worse than Watergate, he said. He later told the Assembly he couldn't foresee another meeting of the Executive. There was another surprise when the DUP followed a Trimble tactic and its two ministers handed sealed resignations to the Speaker. Their men would walk when the UUP did the same, Dr Paisley assured the press with biblical certainty. The policy appeared to last until sometime after 5 p.m. when the party then said its men would walk today regardless of what the UUP did.

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The SDLP, seeming to deploy bows and arrows against the lightning, argued hopefully that no one should do or threaten anything until the facts about Friday's raids were known. In an apparent divine illustration of the seriousness of the situation, an alarm sounded as Mr Durkan ran through his lines, halting his efforts.

Then, when Sinn Féin stepped up to the microphones, workmen outside started up a pneumatic machine. It seemed for a moment as if destruction had indeed begun.

TV monitors in every corner of the Great Hall relayed the state of play in the chamber as if nothing was wrong. The illusion was continued as members ran through question time, the First and Deputy First Ministers taking their places alongside each other.

Mr Durkan outlined plans for March 2003, but couldn't avoid the quip: "How's that for confidence" as he heard himself talk positively of the future when no one was guessing past Friday.

Then to cap it all, Mr Peter Robinson stood to take questions on regional development. He bantered with Lord Alderdice in the Speaker's chair - the man who was in possession of his sealed resignation letter.

The DUP man was wearing a fetching dark blue tie decorated with what appeared to be flying pink pigs.

It was an odd day indeed.