Capital's celebrations dignified but dull

White helium balloons emblazoned with the 2000 logo hovered in celebratory clumps in the sky over Dublin's Merrion Square, offering the first signs that the capital was preparing to party.

On a cold millennium eve families gathered, tying balloons to the wrists of youngsters as the Kilfenora Ceili Band entertained the small crowd in front of the stage. There was set dancing in the streets and the mood was as bright as the glowing "Happy 2000" cigarette lighters available from vendors. (The Happy 2000 sticker just barely disguised the World Cup logo on the side.)

Elsewhere in the city the discerning fin de siecle souvenir-hunter could also choose from green, white and orange Ireland 2000 flags or glittery millennium antennae. Many adults who should have known better wore the latter item on their heads and bizarre grins on their faces.

Apart from the Donal Lunny Band, Sharon Shannon and Brian Kennedy, the main focal point of the afternoon concert, attended, organisers said later, by more than 20,000, was the Last Lights ceremony, a candlelight event to mark the final sunset of the millennium.

Hundreds of thin white candles were dispersed among the crowd who, as predicted, had left their own millennium candles at home.

Early that morning, Millennium Committee member Ronan Keating had phoned to ask whether he could help out at the ceremony. One quick rehearsal with a children's choir in the Shelbourne Hotel later, and he was onstage singing She Moves Through The Fair to screams of "Ya sexy beast" from younger members of the audience. For some, Keating's heartfelt performance was the highlight of an otherwise uninspired New Year's Eve schedule.

The crowd was still calling for Ronan when Pat Kenny took the stage to introduce the Taoiseach. Howya Bertie, they yelled. Mr Ahern genially stuck his thumb up at the crowd.

After reading from an address which mentioned a sea of candlelight, he lit the candles of nurses, gardai, fire officers, soldiers and sailors in a ceremony strictly choreographed by RTE.

From the stage, the audience made a strangely moving sight, thousands of faces glowing in candlelight as the light faded. On large screens there were images from Dursey Head where Ireland's last sunset of the century was taking place.

With the low-key activities out of the way, it was time for the city to really let its hair down. Or maybe not.

As the afternoon turned into evening, barely disguised desperation permeated the mood of people walking around the city intent, above all else, on having fun. For this reason, many cleverly headed away from the capital, while others began queuing outside some of the few pubs and clubs that remained open. At 5.30 p.m. a line of around 1,000 people stretched from Zanzibar, one pub which had decided to open its doors from 7 p.m., charging £15 at the door.

For those without one of the 20,000 free tickets for the booze-free evening knees-up at Merrion Square there was little alternative but to wander the streets aimlessly before heading home, or to Christ Church or, at around 6 p.m., down to the Civic Offices on Wood Quay where the Lord Mayor, Cllr Mary Freehill, was switching on the illuminations on 13 Liffey bridges.

Once again Mr Ahern was present and afterwards he wandered down to the river wall with Celia Larkin, and arm in arm they watched the lights on Grattan Bridge. It was a remarkably Tony and Cherie Blair moment, with people shaking hands with the couple, wishing them happy new year.

For some time crowds milled around on both sides of the quays, many unimpressed with the bridge lights but sensing it was important just to be there.

Back at Merrion Square a small crowd had gathered for the evening concert. At around 10 p.m. when the fireworks were due to start, with volleys every 15 minutes until midnight, the media were invited on to the helipad at Government Buildings to watch the display. The fireworks didn't appear on cue at 10.15 or at 10.30 p.m., but occasionally we would see something that looked like a hallowe'en sparkler momentarily illuminating the sky.

There were Macnas puppets and confetti and red devils and giant jack in the boxes that popped open at the stroke of midnight in Merrion Square. People kissed and hugged and those who had smuggled it in to the alcohol-free zone sipped champagne surreptitiously. The fireworks finally swung into impressive action and were best viewed along the coast. Afterwards, people wandered home, finding it relatively easy to get a taxi or a kebab, whichever desire was more pressing. And normal life went on into 2000 with people begging and sleeping rough on the city streets.

Seamus Brennan's hope for a millennium marked with dignity had obviously struck a chord with one French tourist who used the word dignified - without an ounce of sarcasm - when asked to describe the festivities in the capital. "It was not so commercial as everywhere else, it was not all about sponsorship," she said. Perhaps if it had been, the city would have had more to remember.