Rules thrown out the window as Oireachtas plays open House for weekend of family fun

Children, clowns and acrobats took over from politicians on Kildare Street at the weekend

THIS WEEKEND, a breath of fresh air blew through Leinster House. It was great fun. Picnics on the grass. Sausages sizzling and a smell of fried onions in the air. Baby buggies parked at the diplomatic entrance. Free copies of the 1916 Proclamation. Performances of great Irish speeches.

Flowers on the front gates. Actors, acrobats and clowns. Ice-creams on the plinth. Children everywhere. Cameras flashing in the corridors. And for the first time ever, members of the public were allowed inside the Dáil chamber.

Rules went out the window. Some imagined they heard absent traditionalists gnashing their teeth and rending their garments in fury. But it was only the burners whoosing under the hot air balloon on Leinster Lawn.

Usually, the Irish parliament is a very stuffy place. To many citizens, it is a distant house, shut off from the broad body of people it serves. But the Ceann Comhairle John O'Donoghue is on a mission to make the Oireachtas more relevant to the public. Hence Saturday and Sunday's Family Days - a joint effort by O'Donoghue and his opposite number in the Seanad, Pat Moylan.

By closing time yesterday evening, more than 8,000 people from all parts of the country had been through the gates. The event was booked out within hours of the tickets becoming available.

There to meet the first wave of visitors was John "welcome to my crib" O'Donoghue, who opened the heavy gates and beckoned the crowd inside.

He spent Saturday and Sunday morning putting himself about, joined by a disappointingly small turnout of deputies and Senators over the two days. Mary Hanafin was first to arrive, and she spent much of her time posing for photographs and signing programmes. She was back again on Sunday, and was joined by Tánaiste Mary Coughlan, who was similarly in demand.

Tours of the House departed at five-minute intervals. The ushers played a blinder, though there was some disappointment that the Dáil bar was not on the itinerary.

Vera from Ballymun wanted to know if she would get to see Bertie's new office. "Twenty million it cost to do it up!" Her companions put her right. "I must have been thinking of the Lotto," she murmured. John O'Donoghue bustled past her group on the portrait landing upstairs. "Welcome everybody. You're a lot better behaved than the crowd that's normally here."

Paul from Crumlin was busy scrutinising the portrait of Charlie Haughey. "How many fingers does he have on that hand? Is it six, because he sure had more than five."

O'Donoghue went to the chamber to welcome some of the tour groups, shaking everyone's hand. An American lady told him she was from Virginia and John nearly exploded with delight.

"I'm the speaker of this place here, nice to see ya! I wish I had a card to give you," and he began fishing in his pockets until he successfully located one.

"You'll have to get this place consecrated again after us lot have been here," Gerry Harrison, "from Kerry but living in Dublin" told him.

Maria Rogers, Antonine Gilsenan and Carol McEvoy from Kells had their photo taken in the chamber. "It's been a very worthwhile and interesting day out. It should be something that's done every year in the summer," said Maria, as they headed outside with their teenage charges to listen to the jazz.

Nothing caused more excitement in Leinster House than news that the balloon was about to go up. But the one on Leinster Lawn only managed it on a couple of occasions because of poor weather conditions.

Molly Part (9) from Donaghmede in Dublin was less impressed with the hot air burners than her twin brothers. "I might be on the telly," she exclaimed. And what goes on in Leinster House? "Debates and that," said her brother.

Unlike the balloon, John O'Donoghue was all fired up. He talked of breaking down the walls and gates of Leinster House so "people will be able to connect, in a more realistic way, with the democratic process". There was no stopping him. "The people's hour has come," he cried.

Then he stepped down from the stage and found himself running along the front of the grass verge, high-fiving the outstretched arms of mammies, grannies and cheering tots.

Not getting a ministry isn't so bad after all.

One image will endure after the organic food stalls are gone, the bands have packed up and the protocol returns. At lunchtime on Saturday, a small group of peaceful protesters marched from the GPO to the Dáil. They marched in solidarity with the people of Zimbabwe who are suffering under the Mugabe regime, and they were appealing to the international community for help. Many of them were Zimbabweans living in Ireland. They chanted slogans and sang in front of the Irish parliament. A Garda motorcyclist kept them safe from traffic.

They saw the heavy black gates of Leinster House decorated with brightly coloured sunflowers, because a fun open day for families was taking place inside. And suddenly here at home, never mind Lisbon or the recession, was a moment for counting blessings.