We were half-way down a village street when he turned to me and bellowed: "If you don't take that microphone out of my face, I'll shove it down your throat.'' Alas, I never recorded this lovely line but I took care to keep my mike a little further away.Later I was sitting with Haughey in his limousine as he drove into another town. His press secretary ran up to the car while we stopped at traffic lights. "Boss, the candidates were wondering if they could ride into town in the limo with you.'' Haughey's eyes narrowed. It had become clear earlier in the conversation that he regarded the candidates as a pair of dullards "No,'' he said. "It'll be bad enough having to put up with them for four years in the Dail.'' No grubby candidate would be allowed to dull this leader's lustre.
Later at a press conference we sat listening to one of his cabinet ministers droning on about the importance of forestry plantations It was a performance of epic tedium. After 20 minutes or so, Haughey scribbled something on a piece of paper and shoved it in front of his minister There was one word. "Expedite.''But Charles Haughey is sick and in disgrace now, and we Irish are a thoroughly modern nation. The spin doctors rule, and men who would gladly have thumped their way through election campaigns are consigned to the melancholy business of remembering old battles as they sip pints of stout. It is only left for me to drone: It all seems a long, long time ago..
It's a while since I had what my friend Marilyn, the telesales girl on the Lancashire Evening Telegraph, used to call "a night out on the town". It's a while since I had what my friend Marilyn, the telesales girl on the Lancashire Evening Telegraph, used to call "a night out on the town". In Blackburn, it meant wearing something short, tight and sparkly, being taken to the Bull for a pint and a pie by a couple of Rovers supporters, and then, at around nine, when the lads were getting what Marilyn called "a bit handy", heading for the Mecca ballroom We never danced with the lads. They just paid for us to get in and then sat at the bar watching Marilyn and me show off the complicated dance routines we'd practised in the office car park at lunchtime. When I came to London, the only nights I ever had out on the town were for product launches, which I was supposed to write about in my role as a home economics reporter Some of them were incredibly glamorous. Double-glazing companies offered champagne and caviare in revolving rooftop restaurants, and I frequently danced till dawn to celebrate the arrival of an exciting new stronger, longer kitchen foil or more flavourful cat food.And then, when the children arrived, I was much too busy being an earth mother to think about going out. We had au pair girls, so babysitting wasn't a problem, but because I went to the office by day, I felt duty-bound by night to play spillikins and finger paint and make gooey cakes as demonstrated on Blue Peter, which no one ever ate. I'm not saying I sacrificed my social life for my children well, yes, actually, I am saying that, and much good it has done me No small talk, no social graces, no friends.
