On war, pink earmuffs, kidney dishes, and all that jazz

Displaced in Mullingar:Discussing the merits of war in a Cavan sauna proves a humbling experience for Michael Harding

Last week there was a man from Chicago in the sauna who fought in Iraq. I asked him was he on holidays. He said he had cousins in Finea.

I said: "Actually, I know Finea. There was a famous battle there. Someone called the Slasher defended the bridge against a great horde of enemy troops."

That's when he mentioned Iraq. He said he saw a friend lose four pounds of flesh from his buttocks when their jeep was hit. "But you know," he said, "there's war everywhere. Urban war. It's just that you don't know the enemy. And the enemy hasn't had any reason to find you. Yet." I said: "That's not very cheerful." I was going pink in the sauna, like a bird in an oven, as I stared out the glass window at swimmers flailing around in the pool.

The trooper from Illinois announced that he would be heading off to Galway, with his Finea cousins, for Paddy's Day. Then he turned to me and said: "Jeez, you Irish. You put down a helluva-lota booze.

"Booze", he said, stretching out the vowel like some cool jazzman in a late-night club. Up from his belly it came, melodious, lazy and deep.

B-oo-ze.

Idle chat wasn't easy with this beautifully athletic and battle-hardened beast. For a man who had seen the inside of a war, he was super cool.

"I was in Chicago once," I declared.

"Oh yeah?" I remember panicking in the middle of a snow-covered city, as I searched for a taxi to get me to the airport.

Grey skies heavy with more snow, rush-hour lights and flashing police signs. Cherokee jeeps, Chevrolet saloons and Plymouth space wagons, bumper to bumper. Wheels moving slowly in the slush.

I was going to be late for the six o'clock Aer Lingus flight from O'Hare, International Airport and I was hyperventilating in urban chaos.

All of a sudden I saw a girl wearing furry pink ear-warmers, and I was transported into a state of complete happiness.

The snow was lying in small heaps along the pavements, and the girl was wearing a long black coat down to her ankles. With one hand she was hailing a cab, and with the other hand she was holding a travel case loudly marked with Aer Lingus stickers.

My panic dissolved. I rushed to her side, and we talked about her pink ear-warmers, all the way home.

The soldier in the sauna sighed. As if he didn't quite approve of pink ear warmers. Even on girls.

"Well," he said, "Take care."

Then he smiled, and fled from the glass oven, and sauntered along the edge of the swimming pool: a war god, who has walked the road to hell. I kept my eye on him until he vanished into the men's changing area, his absence reverberating like a horseman of the Apocalypse, a shadow passing over the waters of the pool.

After the sauna I went to the doctor; I was suffering from a chest infection. As usual I thought it was terminal, although the moment I got face to face with the doctor I began to insist that there was nothing wrong with me.

He looked at me with a shrewd eye. Then he handed me a kidney dish and asked me to pass water.

"The toilet is at the end of the corridor," he said.

I would have preferred a little bottle, but I said nothing.

A few minutes later I returned, not too happy after running a gauntlet of patients with their faces stuck in copies of Hello! magazine, as I balanced my kidney dish along the route.

I did try to get the doctor chatting. I suggested that Mullingar had a lot in common with Chicago.

"It's in the Midwest," I said. "It has cattle, country music, and lots of east Europeans." He said nothing.

"What do you think of the war in Iraq?" Still nothing.

"Do you know," I said, "that there is a huge amount of Russians in Chicago?" Absolutely no reply.

Instead, he did his usual routine with a blood-pressure machine and a stethoscope.

Then he returned to his desk and sat down, and watched me in silence. He was as regal as the Emperor of Japan. And then he whispered to me.

"There's nothing wrong with you."

"What was the kidney dish thing about?" I inquired.

He said: "Just checking."

"Do I need antibiotics?"

"No," he said, "You need to relax."