IT was July, probably around the mid to late 1970s. My mother piled us children into the car, drove down to the pier in An Spidéal in Galway to buy a few freshly caught salmon from the trawlers and half-deckers as they returned.

IT’S often been said — and never more than in the last month — that Bertie Ahern is a lucky general. By this they mean that when his anorak was being given its Teflon coating, they laid it on thick and fast.

IN between all the empty debate and petty disputes and rows and static and scandal and point-scoring and personality disputes and constituency infighting, you get rare reminders politics can still concern itself with — to paraphrase Otto von Bismarck — the art of the possible.

POLITICS has evolved so much in this country that if you want to get ahead in public life, all you need to do is embroil yourself in a spot of bother.

AT the crucial moment of their investigation into the Watergate scandal, Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein told Washington Post editor Ben Bradlee that Deepthroat had confirmed the conspiracy ran to the highest levels of the White House.

HOW does a Taoiseach shoot himself in the foot?

BERTIE AHERN has spent the last two days wearing the riled face of a man who has been wronged. He has fumed that somebody has it in for him and has planted the political equivalent of an incendiary device just before the Dáil returns.

TWICE before, allegations have been made about the Taoiseach Bertie Ahern and donations from wealthy businessman. And twice before they came to nothing.

THERE are 35 weeks ahead of us in which we will find out a lot about Enda Kenny. About his wherewithal. About his competence as a leader. About his credibility as a potential Taoiseach of the country. About his winnability.

IRISH politics has resembled a magicians’ convention over the past 10 days. All the party heavyweights have been waving their magic wands to show how — hey presto! — they will make rival TDs disappear from the Dáil next year.