He says moving to Brussels was his idea. Others say he was pushed out of his job. Regardless, between walks to work, poker games and French classes, EU Commissioner Charlie McCreevy is having the last laugh, he tells Denis Staunton.
Shortly after 8.20 most mornings, Charlie McCreevy leaves his temporary apartment overlooking Cinquantenaire Park, in Brussels, and walks the short distance to the Berlaymont building. By 8.30 he is at his desk on the ninth floor of the European Commission's headquarters. "It's about a six-minute walk at a strolling pace," he says. "There's something to be said for inner-city living. For 37 years, ever since I went to UCD, in 1967, I've had to come in a long trek every morning."
Since he joined the commission, three months ago, McCreevy has spent most weekends at home in Co Kildare with his wife, Noeleen, and their three sons. The family have not yet moved to Brussels, but, as things stand, his children see more of McCreevy now than they did during the previous seven years.
"When I was minister for finance I used to leave the house each morning from Monday to Friday at about 6.45am to beat the traffic from Kildare, and most nights I wouldn't be home until pretty late. So I've seen more of them in this job, and my wife pointed out before I took this job that I would see more of them. They were asleep in the morning when I was going and they were in bed when I came home."
With no constituency work to distract him, McCreevy's weekends at home are now his own, and his sons are sometimes surprised to learn that he is still there when they leave for school on Monday mornings. Noeleen also has more free time as she stopped working in her husband's constituency office the day he went to Brussels.
As a commissioner, McCreevy spends much of his time flying from one European capital to another, but his experience of being driven from Kildare to Dublin every morning as minister for finance has left him with the ability to nap on even the shortest flights.
He says he is enjoying life in Brussels, working late most evenings as he gets to grips with his complex internal-market-and-services portfolio, and he claims to relish the challenge of a new career at the age of 55. However, there has been persistent speculation about whether McCreevy volunteered for the job or was pushed into it.
After all, only three weeks before his move to Brussels was announced, last July, McCreevy was telling RTÉ that he still had a lot to do at the Department of Finance. "I've enjoyed being minister for finance, as is obvious, and I'm going to be here for as long as other people think I should be. If after five years we could still have unemployment at under 5 per cent, wouldn't that be a great achievement?" he said.
In fact, McCreevy says, he asked Bertie Ahern to send him to Brussels almost a year earlier, in September 2003. Eager to avoid staying in Irish politics beyond his sell-by date, he told the Taoiseach that he wanted to succeed David Byrne as Ireland's commissioner when a new commission was formed the following year.
"Noeleen and I talked about it over the summer, and we discussed it with a very small group of friends, none of them with anything to do with politics. Then I went to Bertie. I approached Bertie on the day of my birthday. I went up to St Luke's [the Taoiseach's constituency office, in Drumcondra] on September 30th, 2003. It was a Tuesday night. I said, 'I want to see you about something,' and we discussed it for a while. He said: 'Okay, that's grand.' "
So confident was McCreevy in his decision to move that, in December 2003, he offered an oblique hint about his intentions with a subtle change to his budget-day ritual.
"Previous ministers for finance always had their wives and families with them, but I just didn't do that. I used to just stand on my own on the steps of Government Buildings. I thought what I'd do for the last time was to have my wife, Noeleen, standing beside me. And she did. And I thought everyone would see that this was the last time," he says.
In fact, nobody outside McCreevy's close circle of friends picked up on the significance of the gesture. This was perhaps just as well, because within a few weeks he told the Taoiseach that he had changed his mind about Brussels and wanted to stay on as minister for finance.
McCreevy claims he changed his mind for personal reasons, fearing that a move to Belgium would be too disruptive for Noeleen and their three children, who are 15, 11 and seven. Noeleen was convinced, however, that McCreevy should leave the Government, whether he went to Brussels or not. "She would be happy whatever I would do. But the one thing that would make her happy, for a long time, was for me to get out of politics. That was a kind of agreement between us for a long, long time. She felt I had given it enough. It's very, very demanding. I don't expect sympathy for it, and nobody expects any sympathy for it. But she would have felt it was time to finish with Irish politics."
Fianna Fáil's poor turnout in last June's local elections prompted a whispering campaign within the party against McCreevy, which seems to have stung him. When the Taoiseach offered him the Brussels job again, he agreed to take it. "After the local elections other issues arose; not from the Taoiseach, but there was a lot of old stuff.Then the Taoiseach put the question to me. He was making me the offer before he made the offer to anybody else. So I thought about it for a week, and here I am now. And I'm glad I did."
McCreevy and Noeleen appear to be a close couple, sharing an irreverent sense of humour and avoiding any mention of politics at home. Over coffee recently in the Grand Place, the square at the heart of the city, she expressed delight at her husband's decision to leave Irish politics and chatted happily about house hunting in the European capital.
McCreevy is keen to stay within walking distance of the Berlaymont, but his wife has also looked at houses in some of the city's more comfortable suburbs. With one son boarding at Clongowes Wood College, just three miles from their home in Kildare, and another due to start secondary school this year, the family have yet to decide whether to move to Brussels at all.
If they do head for Belgium, the three McCreevy boys will be guaranteed places at the European School of Brussels, which caters exclusively for the children of EU officials.
In the meantime McCreevy is developing a new circle of friends in the city, particularly within its Irish community. Although he neither drinks nor smokes, McCreevy is tolerant of both vices in others - and is expected to join an Irish poker school in Brussels.
Among his more unlikely potential card-playing friends is Frank Wall, formerly general secretary of Fianna Fáil and now an EU official, who spent much of his time in intense political combat with McCreevy during the Haughey years. Both men appear to have put aside their differences, and they are now ready to confine themselves to fleecing one another at the card table.
A keen golfer with a better-than-average handicap of 13, McCreevy has joined the Wild Geese, an Irish golf club founded by Peter Casey, a popular Brussels-based businessman, 24 years ago. His wife and older son are also keen golfers. The club is an important social focus for the Irish in Brussels and could offer the new commissioner a valuable network within the EU institutions.
McCreevy started learning French to prepare for Ireland's EU presidency in 2004 and wants to gain a working knowledge of the language. "I know languages are not my forte. As many have pointed out, I even have difficulty communicating in English. I'm not looking forward to the mess I'll make of the French language. Hopefully, I'll be able to get by," he says.
Perhaps the biggest change for McCreevy in moving from Dublin is in the political culture, with the EU's institutional structure demanding a more consensual approach than he was known for in Ireland. He acknowledges that, in government, some of his Cabinet colleagues were actually afraid of him. "I know some ministers would say they were terrified of me, and one of them was brave enough to say it to me privately. I had very strong views. The minister for finance has to be someone who runs the shop. I didn't try to be friends with them. That wasn't my job. My job was to keep a bit of order on them."
McCreevy has avoided confrontation within the commission, declining to lead the free-market charge against proposals that could be unpopular with business. He has told the European Parliament that he will modify the services directive, an ambitious plan to liberalise the market in services, to take account of their concerns.
"When I was minister for finance in the Government, we were the Government: we had the numbers in the Dáil. If you had the power you exercised it. Here it is different. Here it is a very different system. You have the commission, you have the parliament and you have the council of ministers, and that's the way decisions are made. So that's what I'm going to do. That's the new system. So that's what you have to do."
Despite his regular trips back to Ireland, McCreevy says he has already made the psychological adjustment to his new life in Brussels. He says that politics was never the consuming passion for him that it was for many of his colleagues and that he misses none of the excitement of domestic political life. "I have left that cocoon of Irish politics. That's part of my past life."
He claims to compartmentalise his life with ease and suggests that he will defy expectations by settling comfortably into his new role. "I remember, when I became a minister, well-meaning people said, Jesus Christ, how could Charlie McCreevy become a minister? He's a total maverick. But I just regarded it as a new phase of life. I had to adapt to a new set of circumstances, and I did. Here I've come to do a different job in Europe. It's a bigger canvas. It's a new excitement in my life."
Despite McCreevy's stated enthusiasm for his new job, he retains a close interest in Irish politics and is quick to defend his legacy as minister for finance. But he still insists that, three months on, he has no regrets about turning his back on Irish politics for the wider European stage. "The minute I'd done it I knew it was the right thing. And I definitely know since then that it's the right thing - for me, for my family, for my political party, for the Government, for everyone. I just know it was the right decision."
Our Brussels: the McCreevy address book
RESTAURANTS
Lola, 33 Place du Grand Sablon, 1000 Brussels (00-32-2-514-2460). Very chic, with modern interior and smart clientele, on Brussels's most elegant square.
Brasserie de la Roue d'Or, Rue des Chapeliers 26, 1000 Brussels (00-32-2-514-2554). Traditional Belgian cuisine in an Art Nouveau interior with Magritte images on walls and frescoed ceiling. Off the Grand Place.
Jacques, 44 Quai aux Briques, 1000 Brussels (00-32-2-513-2762). No-nonsense, inexpensive, but excellent fish restaurant near the Saint Catherine fish market.
BARS
À La Mort Subite, 7 rue de Montagnes aux Herbes Potagères, 1000 Brussels (00-32-2-512-8664). One of the most famous beer halls in Brussels, a favourite haunt of Jacques Brel. Serves 20 beers on draught.
Greeenwich, 7 rue des Chartreux, 1000 Brussels (00-32-2-511-4167). Spacious cafe patronised by a mixed clientele, including dozens of chess players. No music, so the perfect centre city refuge.
Archiduc, 6 rue Antoine Dansaert, 1000 Brussels. Popular, late-night jazz club with Art Deco interior and excellent cocktails.
PLACES TO LIVE
Schuman If Charlie McCreevy wants to stay within walking distance of the Berlaymont, he will settle in Schuman, the European Quarter. A little too quiet at the weekends, but full of Irish pubs and boasts Jack O'Shea's, an excellent Irish butcher.
Woluwe-Saint-Pierre Often known as Woluwe-Saint-Fonctionnaire because of the huge number of EU officials - or fonctionnnaires - who live there. A comfortable suburb, less than 15 minutes from the Berlaymont by car or Metro.
Uccle Brussels's smartest suburb, popular with senior officials but a serious trek from EU headquarters. No Metro runs there, so the riff-raff can't visit.
Denis Staunton