Queuing in the post office the other week, who was in front of me but Pee Flynn, ex T.D., Minister, E.U. Commissioner. I was fed up waiting for the line to move along, especially as I was in the bloody wheelchair and when one is in a wheelchair, one is subjected to either pitying looks, quick furtive glances in my leg area, being spoken to IN A VERY LOUD AND SLOW VOICE by people who seem to think that the loss of motion means also the loss of hearing and I.Q., so having worked in the Dáil for 25 years, I thought I'd say hello and see how he was doing.
"Howya Padraigh", says I, giving his very nice Parka jacket a little tug. He spun round and finally located me at his knees. "Well, hello there", he said with a lovely smile. "You are looking sooo well. Tell me, how are things going now?" I was quite startled as I thought for a brief moment that he recognised me, then I thought, "God sake woman, he' a politician. He has no idea who you are."
"You're looking great", says I, and he is. Much better looking now than he used to look. Heavier build, no slimy looking hair dragged over. Tall man. Very tall, mind you everyone looks tall when you are sitting down.
Now I know the history of Mr. Flynn, and his daughter, and his in-laws and none of it makes pretty reading, but I have to tell you, that man spoke to me at length, and was so good that never once did he let it slip that he did not know me from Adam. After all, I had changed a lot in the intervening years and the wheelchair is a new affect. He told me his age, 71, where he was living now. Where he was born, a mile and a half from where I was living, (gasp) etc., etc. He had me convinced (almost) by the end of the conversation that he knew me as well as he knew the back of his hand, although we all know that Pee Flynn never let his left hand know what his right hand was doing.
We exchanged telephone numbers and he went to collect his....pension?? But you know what? I kinda felt sorry for the man. Does that make sense. There was this once well known politician, always in the hub of everything that was going on, and down, and now he was alone, in a queue, in a post office, in a small town in Mayo.
It made me think of all the other "yesterday" men. The ones who were followed by hordes of media people, who were courted by the powerful and the rich. Who had so much influence over so many lives. How do they feel when it is all over? When the "darkness" beckons?
I am an avid hater of
FF. I despise them. I do. And yet I left that man, waving to me as if I was a long lost friend, feeling sorry for him. Why?
9th February 2010
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