Dana's Eurovision win is ancient history to our non-voters

"It's for Mary Banotti," replies the priomh-oide jauntily, as we admire his spanking new blue shirt

"It's for Mary Banotti," replies the priomh-oide jauntily, as we admire his spanking new blue shirt. Nothing slow about him on a Monday morning, considering green would be more his political colour.

On the subject of presidential candidates, Miss H reveals that in the middle classes she was seeking data on all four women (Derek Nally hadn't made it at the time) and was told that Dana sang All Things Bright and Beautiful in the Eurovision Song Contest. Our amused disbelief was quickly suppressed when we realised that Dana's Eurovision victory is ancient history to these non-voting citizens. Tempus certainly does fugit when you reach a certain unmentionable age.

The priomhoide tells his tale of how, in the senior division, he was eliciting information on former Irish presidents. One sixth-class `pol corr' thought that Douglas Hyde was the guy who stole money from the people and refused to give it back. What's a generation here or there to an 11-yearold?

For the past few weeks, their minds have been firmly fixed on matters relating to football and on the fact that Sam Maguire is now domiciled in our county after a long absence. Political events pale into insignificance as they bask in the euphoria attendent upon such an historic milestone in their young lives. Suffice it now for them to await with bated breath the imminent visit of their revered heroes. We live in a state of animated suspense. Everything is on hold.

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Only a month back and the new junior infants have, without any help from teacher, succeeded in streaming themselves into their own peer groups. It happens every year, according to Miss M. Just as water seeks its own level, so do uninitiated four-year-olds.

As if by magic, the almost-fives, after one week, have found each other and want to read books and write their letters and the just-fours are battling with each other over the toys and are happy to spend all day at the sand-table or playing with bricks of simply rambling about. No need for sociologists here. Yes, it's a clear case of "the child is father of the man."