THE voters of West Finglas may well love Proinsias De Rossa almost as deeply as they profess but that doesn't mean they give him an easy time.
When the Democratic Left leader and Minister for Social Welfare went walkabout yesterday on a dull afternoon, through a grim maze of housing estates, the citizens seemed pleased to see him. They also had their grievances ready.
The first few houses went well. Smiles and praise. A silent woman peers guardedly at him, studies his picture on the leaflet and stares back at his face. "You're looking well," she decides, "I'll vote for you, I always do."
Bending down he moves a pile of leaflets off the floor behind the front seat of his car, commenting to the photographer: "I can't have you standing on my face."
Having said her goodbyes at another door, a volunteer canvasser walked hack to the group to relay comments made by the woman of the house. "She said if he wasn't married already, she'd marry him herself."
De Rossa and his tiny band of three helpers move on. All seems well. There are about 60,000 voters in his constituency. Every house will be visited. "But not all by me." The houses are small, identical. The gardens are tiny, flowers are more popular than shrubs. There are no dogs and very few trees.
One of the houses is slightly different. A coloured tape advertising a brand of ice cream is stuck to the window. It looks like a shop. It is a shop. Next door, a man is standing in his dark, narrow hall. He is so angry, he has difficulty speaking.
Now that De Rossa has appeared, the man seems to stand straighter. He is furious but directing his rage at the Minister seems to help. "I've written to the Corporation and the planning people", and has letters to prove it. People living in housing estates don't expect their neighbours to open shops next door. "Are you going to look into it?"
"I can't sell my house. . . I've gone to two estate agents and they aren't interested. Not with that next door." De Rossa listens.
"I'll look into it," he promises. The old man sighs: "The other night an ambulance was here it took two people away, they must have been drug addicts. I want to go back to Cabra... all I want is peace.
A few houses on and a woman wants to speak to the Minister alone. The volunteers have already been informed that this potential voter is outraged by the granting of new taxi plates. Her husband has a taxi. "What's going to happen to us? And another thing, there's all these unmarried mothers getting handouts," she becomes emotional. "What am I killing myself for if these young ones are getting paid for having children?"
The Minister is patient, almost priestlike - but he is no doormat. "What evidence do you have?" he asks. "I saw it in the papers," and voicing her dislike of a welfare state, says: "I blame it all on Garret FitzGerald, or was it Michael O'Leary?"
A couple of women ask about having the streets landscaped. "A few flowers here and there," adds a voice, "it'll make a big difference." A horticultural discussion begins.
What about the horses?" a woman asks later, her rollerblade wearing daughter at her side, "they come flying around the corner and no one's safe. The kids can't play. No one's safe."
A few houses down, another woman appears. "Did she give you a hard time?" she inquires, expectation lighting up her face. "Yesterday morning, when we came down, there was seven horses in that garden over there. Look at my gate, it's in hits from them.
Litter drifts gently down Main Street, Finglas. De Rossa's constituency offices over a small shop are modest to the point of anonymous. At the street entrance an oldstyle metal sign is positioned on the path. "New False Teeth Made in 3 Days - Fully Guaranteed" it declares. Promises, promises.
