Commuter Belt - Nuala Ahern MEP

How do you travel to and from work? I Fly. My Monday-morning song is Trains And Boats And Planes.

How long does it take? It takes four hours, door to door, to Brussels, where I work three weeks out of every four. And eight hours to Strasbourg once a month. This can be through Paris or Frankfurt. Paris means the deadly wait for another flight. Frankfurt means a two-hour minibus ride, swopping stories with other MEPs.

What time do you leave? If I'm taking a 10 a.m. flight to Strasbourg, I need to leave home at 7.30a.m. If I'm taking the morning shuttle to Brussels, I hit the constituency office for half an hour and leave at 9.30 a.m. I normally drive, avoiding the main part of Dublin. I have many times tried public transport, but it has not been a happy experience.

What time do you get back? I'm normally away Monday to Thursday, sometimes Tuesday to Thursday. If flying from Strasbourg I can get in around 10 p.m., but I normally arrive back from Brussels around 8 p.m., leaving a one-hour journey from the airport.

Do you travel the same route every day? Not if I'm going to a constituency meeting via Brussels. Sometimes I go to Dundalk or Kildare before heading home to Greystones.

What do you enjoy about your commute? A cup of tea at the airport. And reading papers on the flight that I wouldn't otherwise catch up on.

What bothers you most about it? Waiting at airports. I once waited for five hours at Charles de Gaulle, got home at 1 a.m. and have never forgotten the price of a handbag I bought while bored out of my skull!

Would you like to change your mode of transport? Yes, I'd take a slow boat up the Rhine to Strasbourg. Or the gravy train to Brussels . . .

How could your journey be improved? By a DART line to the airport, which would take me all the way home to Greystones. Then I could live up to an MEP's reputation for wining and dining on the way home! It's a sad reflection on Dublin that it's one of the few European cities without an efficient rail link to the airport and a sad reflection on us that we put up with it.

In conversation with Sylvia Thompson