That can wait until September

FOR some reason it was particularly noticeable last week. They were gone. Who? That’s the weird thing. We’re not quite sure. But for some gilded class of people who make up much of the traffic and many of the goings-on around the place, summer is here and they have disappeared somewhere. Which is odd, because most of us are still here, still doing our jobs, still functioning throughout the summer. So who are these people and where have they gone?

Obviously the traffic situation is partially explained by the schools closing. So we know that much. The teachers are off. And some of the mothers and the children are gone to these places they seem to go. But that doesn’t really explain the sense of gone fishin’ around the place, does it?

The politicians obviously are gone too now. They have this strict rule whereby nothing can be done in the summer months. Even if it’s urgent. So we had that odd situation in Northern Ireland a few weeks ago where they tried to reach a deal, and it was really urgent to reach a deal, but they failed. And then everyone just gave up and said: “Ah well. They’ll surely reach a deal in September.” And that was it! Suddenly it was urgent no more. The only pressing issue all of a sudden was that they should all be paid over the summer.

And what about the drink driving? Another burning issue it seemed, much argument about who would and wouldn’t support it, and then suddenly... Nothing. We will deal with that in the autumn. Imagine if the rest of us carried on like that? “Look boss, I might finish that job by Friday. But. If not I’ll do it in September so not to worry.’’ Or “Yes Missus, I’ll hopefully to be out Friday to fix your washing machine, but if not, don’t worry, I’ll sort it out in September”.

Leo can’t be happy about all this. He must be thinking, “Do we really have to stop now? Just when I was getting a bit of momentum? Just when I put Love Actually and the socks behind me?” Everyone agrees Leo has had a good run in the last two weeks.

Prime Time, Time magazine, and a filleting of Paul Murphy that everyone except Paul Murphy and a few of his cronies seemed to enjoy. Murphy was managing to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory on Jobstown anyway, but Leo put the icing on the cake.

And you could sense the rowdy relief from Leo’s colleagues. This was the Leo they’d been promised. This was the Leo they’d signed up for, not some overawed schoolboy in Downing Street. And Time magazine gave the rest of us the Leo buzz we needed.

We were reassured that the rest of the world was looking enviously at us and our fancy, new, gay, young Taoiseach, and that’s all we care about.

But a summer is a long time in politics. And all this momentum could be long gone by September. Gone like the mysterious half of the population who go fishing all summer.