I begin by minting a new word, to try and match the crazy month that is upon us.
The word, of which I am quite proud , is “heirwaves”, and it applies to the incredible way in which our Republican airwaves were driven over the top, and dyed red white and blue, by the arrival into the English royal family of another baby boy.
Ye know all the details by now, better than myself, because of the saturation coverage of the maternity events on our national broadcaster, RTE, as well as on every other media screen.
And that for sure is another sliver of the truth, this May.
The safe arrival of the new baby, for the royal couple of a powerful nation which inflicted so much pain and suffering on this little island, down all the centuries, and which led directly to the deaths of thousands of infants during the Famine (which that nation could have done so much to alleviate), is welcome of course, and one hopes he will have a happy future in an era when, just maybe, there will be no real border of any kind between the current Six Counties, and the Republic for which so many gave their lives a century ago to achieve.
Their brutal executions by Her Majesty’s troops this month, after the 1916 Rising, truly got less coverage than the birth of the little guy in Westminster.
Do I perchance hear a dawn chorus of agreement out there?
Maybe it is only the same cuckoo I heard over Lough Derg, as the bank holiday descended in a welcome blaze of sunshine, unexpected for the most of us.
Fundamentally though, the excitement on the heirwaves prevented me (and perhaps you too) from being more fully informed about more interesting and unique developments.
There was, for example, a really unique, unqualified apology from our verbally adroit Taoiseach, Leo Varadkar, for comments he made about elements of the health services in Waterford.
There was the dance around her political grave by the English leader named after this month, which may yet see her departure from office.
There was the spectacle on the other coast of Donald Trump’s former lawyer going to jail, allegedly because of misdeeds which might involve the leader himself in even deeper political mire than is normal for him.
And, on the brink of a referendum on elements of our future divorce requirements, I was informed that the great King Brian Boru of this Clare region was himself a divorced man at the time of his death at the Battle of Clontarf.
There was no mention of that on the aforementioned “heirwaves”, through the early days of this unique May.
There were intriguing events on the GAA sport front too, on both shores of the Way that I would like to have been more fully informed of.
Mayo, of course, hammered New York in a one-sided encounter in Gaelic Park.
Afterwards, to listen to their spokesmen, one would swear they will, at last, reclaim Sam Maguire in Croke Park next autumn. They won’t, of course, but it was intriguing to hear the resilience of their hope and belief.
Far more interesting, to me anyway, was news of the dreadful leg injury suffered by Mayo’s greatest player of either gender, the mighty Cora Staunton from Carnacon. The details were sketchy, because of those “heirwaves” but all, I’m certain, will join with me in wishing a great sports star a full and speedy recovery.
She will have ample time to be fully recovered before her lesser male countymen raise Sam Maguire above their heads in triumph in Croke Park.
That is another really pure truth.
Finally I would like to have been more fully informed this May about all the details of projected legislation from Leinster House which proposes (unless you or I have definitely indicated otherwise, and we unfortunately become accident victims before our expected time), that our organs can be quickly
removed from our bodies and sped away to the waiting queues of potential transplant patients, often waiting for years for compatible organs.
The proposal is a very worthwhile one indeed, and has sparked a national debate already in many homes where the subject would otherwise not have been discussed.
I am in the process of volunteering to become such a donor, in the wry knowledge that my aged organs are unlikely to be of much use to any other body should that situation arise.
However, I sincerely hope that any organ of mine, if disaster does strike me down, will not later have to reside permanently in either Mayo or Cavan. My working stints in both counties over the decades, being constantly outwitted and outsmarted by the natives, always caused
extreme wear and tear and tension on all my inner self.
As I conclude, Prince Harry of England is on the TV screen again, for the umpteenth time this evening. No discussion at all on all my available channels tonight about anything else but the birth. I think I hear the cuckoo calling from Lough Derg again.
Very appropriate, indeed.