Walking in footsteps of Irish flag-bearer Lenihan proves a chilling experience

NEWTON'S OPTIC:WE NOW return you to our feature article "Newton Emerson on the trail of Brian Lenihan". Readers who were expecting Mr Emerson to cover the Stormont elections should send a strongly worded letter to the South Pole.

Cold. That is the first thing that hits you in the lobby of the European Central Bank. As a journalist I have experienced some serious air conditioning in my time but this place really has a top-of-the-range system.

If I lie down I can actually feel the chill radiating up from the Italian marble floor, if “radiating” is the right word to use. It’s incredible to think this is the exact same chill Brian Lenihan must have felt as he walked across here all those months ago.

Rolling over now onto my front I come face to face, literally face to face, with the seal of the bank carved into the tiles. I can rub my nose across the lettering of its motto Vendo Minimus Caniswhich means: Sold a Pup. Did Lenihan have his nose rubbed in this very seal? There is no way to be certain, so let's just say he did.

Lenihan had been to Frankfurt before, of course, so he would have known to bring supplies for the long wait in reception. On his first trip he was forced to survive on a bag of garlic cloves and a chocolate biscuit before finally reaching the vending machine beside the stairs.

Amazingly that machine is still here, its contents perfectly preserved by the freezing conditions. If we look through the glass we can see the very products Lenihan would have been so glad to see, with iconic German brand names like Milka, Ritter Sport and Kinder Surprise.

But while that expedition ended with slightly bitter chocolate the next was to end in truly bitter disappointment, as Lenihan and his crew reached Jean-Claude Trichet’s office only to find a Greek flag sticking out of the recycling bin. Wearily, they turned and retraced their steps back to the front desk to book another appointment, little realising a Portuguese team had passed them in the lift.

To get a sense of what that must have been like I will now go up in one lift and down in another. It’s sobering to think, as you whizz around the building, that rival journalists could be only inches away.

Eventually the Irish made it back to the lobby, where their arrival was recorded in a diary entry by bank receptionist, Ms L’Argent-Centime.

Here we can examine that very diary, with its entries for Greece, Portugal and Ireland, ending with a single poignant note marked “Spain” and “we may be gone for quite some time”.

Lenihan was to have many more adventures, nearly all of which would later be described as rescue missions. However, standing here in sub-room temperatures, I am starting to feel a strange sense of disorientation, as if all these expeditions from different countries blend into a single tragic tale of ill-equipped amateurs bearing their flags back and forth across an empty continent, oblivious to the cataclysm that was about to sweep their age away.

Clearly, this means my sugar levels are dropping. I wonder if that vending machine has any Penguins?