It's lucky that Cowen and Brown had nothing better to do than twiddle their thumbs, writes GERRY MORIARTY, Northern Editor, at Hillsborough Castle
IT COULD have been the St Brigid’s Day agreement. The potential for symbolism was great – spring, regrowth, rebirth, the green (or orange) shoots of political recovery.
But bearing in mind the principals and the parties, and all the history and relationships, even with a deal nobody is getting carried away about the budding political shoots of recovery, of whatever colour.
But what better day for a new start than the first day of spring. If the symbolism stares you in the face, why ignore it?
And perhaps even more than policing and justice, and parading, that’s what yesterday could have been about, a political new beginning.
So, we’re into Day Eight – long, hard, cold, consecutive days with a break for the Sabbath. So, a deal today, perhaps? Or tonight? It’s badly needed after all the dysfunction that’s gone before.
The public mood towards Northern politicians at the moment swings between anger and apathy, which is why on some day the politicians might just crack this nut.
We drove to Hillsborough Castle yesterday with the word from several sources ringing in our ears: Brian and Gordon had their jets revving on the runways, it was merely a matter of them flying to Hillsborough to stand side by side with Peter Robinson and Martin McGuinness to sign off on the St Brigid’s Day agreement.
Gordon Brown’s foreign minister David Miliband was so confident that he said his prime minister was already in Northern Ireland. He wasn’t.
It’s lucky that Cowen and Brown have nothing better to do than twiddle their thumbs, waiting patiently for Peter and Martin to do the right thing.
A broken economy? Westminster elections? A trip to Madrid that the Taoiseach was supposed to be on yesterday? What’s that compared to the siren lure of the dreary spires of Fermanagh and South Tyrone.
What do they say in Spain? Mañana! That’s when the deal will be done.
