HEART BEAT: Flitting continuously between past and present leaves me in some danger of developing a schizoid personality. Truth to tell, some of the happenings of today leads me not alone to doubt my own sanity, but also that of a sizable section of the community.
Recently I listened to Marian Finucane talking to a group of people who enforce various environmental laws, e.g. tobacco legislation, litter laws, fisheries, etc.
I was fascinated to hear of boarding cruisers on the Shannon to obtain evidence of illicit pike fishing and I wondered what happens to these modern day pirates. Are they merely fined or do they get to walk the plank? Similarly I heard the tobacco enforcement man describing how when they went to a pub, an indication that the establishment was compliant was to be found in the presence of large amounts of cigarette butts on the street outside. As our Australian cousins would say, 'Good on you Sherlock'. Perhaps Mr Tobacco man, if you brought Mr Litter man with you he might catch all the people littering the streets with their butts. The dirty old publicans used to provide things called ashtrays inside. I suppose we can't go backwards and become passive smokers again now that we lead the world, especially when similar evidence is now accumulating that inhaled exhaust fumes are equally bad for you. What are we going to do about this? The citizens have a right to clean air. We have lots of rights but they are seldom absolute.
Maybe cleaning up the serious litter problem around Dunsink Lane would make a welcome change for our zealous litter people rather than cigarette butts and chewing gum. I would also ask with great temerity who is responsible for clearing away the cardboard shelters which nightly appear on our streets. Problem is that they often contain people who the Celtic Tiger has somehow overlooked. Since I am informing I might as well go the whole hog and tell our fisheries people that there are drift netters and super trawlers abroad that possibly do as much harm as a tourist with a few pike. All in all, it is great to live in Tir-na-nOg, or should it be called Tir-na-Nanny. People are awakened to their environment by example and education and in the ideal world there should be little resort to compulsion.
Back to the past. Our time in the Coombe was not restricted to babies and learning. It was summer time and outside university term and in our free time we students came to know the area around. Our local hostelry was a small pub in the Coombe called the Cosy Bar and there, as customary among medical students, we complemented our more formal teaching by listening to the doctors with whom we worked. It was not all about medicine. I remember an argument one night between two staff about the War of Independence and the Black and Tans. One irately demanded of the other, "what the hell do you know about it? You went to Clongowes." The reply to the doctor who hailed from the West was to the effect that the Clongownian could not recall any major battles fought in Co Roscommon. The westerner was infuriated. "Did you never hear tell of the battle of Loughglynn? My grandfather was dragged by the arse along the road afterwards by a Tan lorry." The Jesuit admitted ignorance of that particular engagement, but complemented his western colleague "on the discernment of his relative who, in such distressing circumstances, was able to note the colour of the vehicle".
We went to Hell, a passage in the environs of Christ Church, referred to by Robert Burns.
But this that I am gaun to tell,
Which lately on a night befell
Is just as true as the De'ils in Hell
Or Dublin City
We became well acquainted with the Guinness brewery, the family of that name being great benefactors of the hospital. Their staff were great benefactors of the impecunious students, so much so that we no longer had to take the visitors tour to partake of the liquid refreshment provided.
We went on call with the doctors and midwives for home births and ancillary services. We learned that there was another less comfortable Dublin and one from which the social conscience did not readily escape. This service now is no more, partly because of insurance and partly because of danger to staff. This simply puts more pressure on the hospital.
I also discovered, that much as I liked this most basic and human of subjects that, however, it was not for me.
Dr Maurice Neligan is a cardiac surgeon.