Oisinn, Fionn and JP can’t believe their ears. They’re all like, “What?”
I’m there, “Yeah, no, Leo called his hockey teacher Hot Stuff and the principal decided to make an issue of it.”
Oisinn goes, “It sounds like you were the one who made an issue of it.”
And I’m like, “I just told him that if that was his attitude, I’d have to think about finding a new school for the triplets?”
The old dear goes, ‘I don’t want my vital work on the campaign Move Funderland to the Northside to die with me’
‘I remember Past Ross thinking, you need to stort being nicer to Future Ross. He’s a genuinely good bloke’
‘Sorcha, I’m wondering is climate justice maybe a bit above Santa’s pay grade?’
Sorcha goes, ‘I make no apologies for saying it, Honor. You are a danger to democracy’
“And he took you up on that offer?” JP goes.
I’m there, “Nearly tore my orm off. And now Sorcha’s told me that I have to find a new school for them by the end of August. Which is apparently, like, next month?”
“Fock,” Oisinn goes.
And I’m like, “My thoughts exactly.”
This is us in The Bridge, by the way. JP gets the round in – four pints of green – while we all consider my predicament some more.
“What about Willow Pork?” Fionn goes.
I’m like, “Hordly – they turned us down twice before.”
Oisinn’s there, “St Mary’s?”
I go, “Again, they couldn’t have made themselves clearer when we applied.”
JP’s there, “Yeah, they have a bit of a reputation, all right. What about CBC Monkstown?”
I’m like, “No, the vice-principal was there the day the boys tore the head off Mr Tayto in Tayto Pork. The only reason they got into St Kilian’s was because Sorcha’s old dear went there and she’s friends with Mr Schwarzenbeck.”
Fionn goes, “Have you considered maybe an all-Irish school?”
I’m about to give him a mouthful of abuse when something suddenly occurs to me.
I’m like, “Here, where’s Hilary going? Is it St Adomnán’s?”
This look of, like, instant concern crosses his face.
He goes, “You can’t send them to St Adomnán’s,” because he’s obviously worried that they’ll bring down the educational standard of the entire school – which they probably would, in fairness to them.
I’m there, “Why can’t I send them to St Adomnán’s?” because I’m super-defensive when it comes to the three little idiots.
He’s like, “Well, because it’s a Protestant school for one thing.”
I’m there, “I’ve no issue with Protestants. I adore Protestants.”
This is an actual fact. If ever I’m looking for someone to do a job – an accountant, a solicitor, a dishwasher repair person – I’ll always choose the dude with the most Protestant-sounding name. I think I learned the trick from my old man.
I’m there, “Protestants are people you can trust. Look at you, Fionn. What did you get in your Leaving? The highest points in the country, wasn’t it?”
He goes, “Thank you for the compliment, Ross. But admiring Protestants doesn’t actually make you a Protestant.”
“I’ll become one then.”
“You can’t just become a Protestant.”
“Dude, I’m a joiner. I’ve always been a joiner. Ask Sorcha how many gym memberships I’ve signed up for and then ended up cancelling before the end of the 30-day cooling-off period.”
He goes, “Ross, it’s not just a case of filling out a form and – hey, presto – you’re a Protestant.”
I’m there, “Come on, Dude, half of South Dublin is going around pretending to be Protestant to get their kids into decent schools. Every second child these days is called Hugo. Have you seen the queues for a table in Avoca in Ballsbridge at the weekends?”
Fionn definitely doesn’t want Brian, Johnny and Leo going to the same school as his son because he tries to come in at me from a different angle then. He goes, “What would Father Fehily say if he heard you talking like this?”
I’ve been 087 for years. Now I want to check out 086 – see what all the fuss is about
JP’s there, “He’d remind you about St Claude of Bethany, the founder of our order, who, in 1572, swam to Ireland from France with a rugby ball under his orm.”
I’m like, “I’m not dissing St Claude of Bethany here – or his achievements. But Father Fehily also said that there’s no real difference between Catholics and Protestants – we’re all talking to the same God, just on different networks.”
“Oh,” Fionn goes, because he’s rattled now, “changing your religion is like changing your phone provider now, is it?”
I’m there, “That’s exactly what it’s like. I’ve been 087 for years. Now I want to check out 086 – see what all the fuss is about.”
JP goes, “Ross, you’re not even religious.”
I’m there, “Yes, I am.”
“Dude, you never go to Mass.”
“That’s because the God I believe in is a busy man who doesn’t want to be hearing from me all the time. He doesn’t need me bigging Him up constantly. He has bigger fish to fry.”
“And you’ve always believed that this super-chilled-out, totally-secure-in-Himself God was Protestant, have you?”
“That’s the vibe I’ve always got from Him, yeah.”
But Fionn is still having none of it. He recycles and goes again.
He’s like, “St Adomnán’s isn’t really a rugby school, can I just remind you? They haven’t been in a Leinster Schools Senior Cup final since the 1800s.”
I’m there, “You could have said something similar about Castlerock College when I joined. Maybe Brian, Johnny and Leo will lift the standard – like I did back in the day?”
I went to the Loreto Dalkey and the Loreto on the Green debses on the same night without either of my two dates knowing
Fionn is spitting nails at this stage.
He goes, “You can’t just join a religion, Ross – even in South Dublin. You’re going to go to service on a Sunday, are you?”
I’m there, “If that’s what it takes to get them into St Adomnán’s, then yes, I’ll do it.”
“What, every Sunday morning?”
“Is that when it tends to be on?”
“Yes, that’s when it tends to be on.”
“And they definitely don’t do afternoons?”
“No.”
“Fine. I’ll get up.”
Oisinn goes, “Fionn, chill out – he’s only trying to get the best education he can for his kids.”
Fionn’s there, “My religion is something that I take seriously.”
But JP goes, “The Lord said, ‘In my Father’s house are many mansions: if it were not so, I would have told you.’ That’s John 14:2.”
JP studied for the priesthood. He knows the book backwards.
I’m there, “That church you go to, Fionn – isn’t there a big sign outside saying that everyone is welcome?”
He’s, like, red in the face, he’s so angry.
He goes, “Ross, you won’t pull it off.”
But I remember him saying something similar 25 years ago, when I attended the Loreto Dalkey and the Loreto on the Green debses on the same night without either of my two dates knowing. Which means he’d be a fool to underestimate me.
I go, “We’ll see about that, Dude. We will see.”
