Can reconvened Cabinet prove this Government is for all seasons?

I remember when August 15 was the turning point in summer. A last festival, both holiday and holy day. It was the end of the builders’ holidays (and for lots of other businesses that closed for the first two weeks in August, too).

For us, it was packing up in Curracloe, goodbye to all the Wexford cousins, and home to Dublin and school, and copybooks. When I was in the middle of school, it passed very slowly. Now, I realise it evaporated.

School days were from four years of age to 17 — 13 years. Not long, when the next bus stop is 50. Mind you, I prefer hitting 50 than 14. A great paradox about human flesh; as it sags, you become more comfortable in it.