Tough schooldays in the Forties taught Derek Nally that you don't enhance yourself by insulting others

I have to admit I was never fond of school and school wasn't fond of me. I'd put the homework on the long finger and I can remember plenty of mornings waking up with a sick feeling in my stomach at the thoughts of having to go to school.

Growing up, it was always my ambition to follow in my father's footsteps and join the Garda Siochana. I was born in Thurles, Co Tipperary, and attended Holy Cross National School which was four miles outside the town. Later I moved to Thurles CBS.

I didn't distinguish myself in my parents' eyes - they were hoping I would go on to third level. My brother who was four years older had blazed the trail by getting a scholarship to go to university. I was more of an outdoor boy and preferred to be in any bit of `divilment' that was going on. I didn't recognise until much later the real value of education.

School - especially secondary school - back in the Forties was tough and corporal punishment was the norm. I remember one time a few of us lads were in school early and started to throw a cap around the room. The door opened and a brother who was coming in was accidentally hit. For that, I was given `twenty of the best' with the leather. I didn't cry, although I felt like doing so.

It was the insults, though, which upset me more. My father used to keep me out of school to cut turf for him. I remember feeling very hurt by some of the things that were said on my return to school. Many of the brothers were very decent but there were others who would make disparaging remarks that would rob you of any self-esteem you had.

Maybe it was good in one sense. It taught me that you don't enhance your own well-being by insulting others. It demeans you, rather than the person you insult. I can be tough with people but I would never diminish them.

I believe that Albert Reynolds' esteem was badly damaged by the way he was treated at the election of the Fianna Fail presidential candidate. There should and could have been a more humane way of dealing with the man.

I told Dana when I met her that I would never say anything that would demean her or any of the other candidates. My philosophy in life is that, even if you'd won the battle, you'd feel terrible with yourself.

I didn't sit my Leaving Cert - I escaped three months before the exams took place. Myself and a friend headed off to Scotland where we got clerical jobs. A year later my mother called me to say that the Garda were advertising for recruits. So I packed my bags and returned home. By this time my father had been posted to Waterford and the family were living in Tramore.

I sat the Garda exams in Waterford and was offered a place as a recruit. In those days you didn't go to Templemore - you did your training in Garda Headquarters in the Phoenix Park. I got through the training course quite easily - I enjoyed it much more than school. When I passed out I was sent to Enniscorthy, Co Wexford, and I've never left the county since. I always say that I'm from Co Wexford by adoption.

The Garda must have seen something in me because I was promoted after seven years. I was one of the youngest sergeants in the force. Five or six years later I was approached by the Representative Body for Inspectors Station Sergeants and Sergeants. At the time they had a fairly rapid turnover of general-secretaries and I had to promise that if I took the job I'd stay.

I retired when I was 50 and started my own security company. I've never regretted a day of my life, either in the force or outside it.

Derek Nally is a former general-secretary of the Garda Representative Body for Inspectors, Station Sergeants and Sergeants (now the Association of Garda Sergeants and Inspectors) and an independent presidential candidate. He was talking to Yvonne Healy.