POTS OF tea in shopping centres are all very fine, but there'll be no hobnobbing with the Opposition in yacht clubs for the leader of the Labour Party, thank you very much.
And so the prospect of Eamon Gilmore fixing a dressed Pimms for Mary Hanafin in the National Yacht Club receded faster than the afternoon tide yesterday.
When their paths almost crossed on the campaign trail in Dún Laoghaire, the constituency rivals exchanged some loud banter, but with the width of a road, an iron railing and a 20-foot drop between them.
There is an unwritten protocol on bank holidays among politicians from the main political parties: they don't engage in high-profile canvassing. This is not to allow each other enjoy the Monday off, but to avoid the wrath of voters not best pleased by pushy people with leaflets eating into their quality time.
A quick turn around the seafront in Dún Laoghaire was enough for Eamon Gilmore yesterday.
He took a similar stroll along the prom in Bray on Sunday morning, and wasn't attacked for trying to distract people from their 99s with talk of the Lisbon Treaty. Then again, he was in the company of Liz McManus, who would have soon put manners on any mutineers.
He was on his own in Dún Laoghaire yesterday, apart from a handful of party workers dragged away from their sunbeds to take the bare look off his walkabout.
They decided to start at the People's Park, and then strike for the pier. The park was packed with families making the most of the sunshine and barely decent women doing the same.
Sensibly, Eamon made an executive decision to leave them alone.
Representatives of the anti-treaty People Before Profit Alliance (PBPA) were leafleting at the gates. The Labour Yes party smiled as they passed.
For we were in Kingstown, where everyone is terribly nice.
"Hello, Gary," said Eamon to a smiling PBPA man in a Panama hat. "I'd better not canvass you, you're not pro-Europe."
"I beg your pardon, I am not!" replied Gary, before a Labour lady stepped forward and handed him a leaflet. Perhaps this might spark a heated ideological debate.
"Angela! Darling!" And they embraced.
Bloody southside.
A man with a bicycle stopped Eamon on the seafront and presented him with his own version of the triple-lock. "I vote Fianna Fáil. I'm voting No. I don't trust any of yis." But the sun was shining and there were ice-cream vans and punnets of fruit and happy dogs and cotton hats, and the sea air was scented with the perfume of factor 15. No point in having any rows yesterday.
The mini-canvass continued along the seafront for a few laid-back exchanges with mellow afternoon strollers.
They passed the National Yacht Club where Fianna Fáil Minister Mary Hanafin stood inside the gate, chatting over it to passersby.
In the interests of the continuing political entente cordiale, Gilmore was persuaded by the photographer to walk down the ramp towards the yacht club and "bump into" Hanafin. Eventually, he did, but Mary had vanished inside the club.
"I've never canvassed a yacht club before, and I've no intention of starting now," snorted Eamon, turning on his heels and walking past the four gas-guzzling 4X4s parked outside.
He also walked past a line of busy No canvassers, this time representing the Campaign Against the EU Constitution.
There was a slight air of smug satisfaction about the Labour group at this point, happy that their street cred would never allow them look for votes in the National Yacht Club.
Poor Mary. She emerged eventually, in a cloud of cool white linen and resumed her post at the entrance to the pier.
"I wasn't canvassing in there. Look, I spilled raspberry ripple from a 99 down the front of my skirt.
"I went inside to try wash it off. Look, it's still there. Where's Eamon? I've been standing here since 12 o'clock."
He was up the ramp, across the road and behind a railing.
"You're welcome to join us. As usual, we got the best spot!" roared Mary, who wasn't going out of her way to accost voters either on the day that was in it.
"There'll be no more cups of tea after Dundrum!" shouted Eamon to his temporary new friend from Fianna Fáil.
They're only together until the referendum.
Until then, the Labour leader says he is "open" to a threesome with Brian Cowen and Enda Kenny. "I think it's a good idea." Some of the women in the group looked distinctly queasy.
However, in terms of a lasting relationship, insists the Labour leader, this dalliance with government is no more than a holiday romance.
After an hour, Eamon and his promenaders called it a day, and he bought a punnet of strawberries. Mary, on the verge of sunstroke, wasn't long after him.
That's the way things are done on bank holidays.
Except that the two No groups were still hard at it and, down the road at the Dart station, a Libertas coach had parked and decanted a large number of enthusiastic volunteers in customised blue Libertas T-shirts, polo shirts and baseball caps.
Those who aren't members of the political club need not follow the rules.
Food for thought for the establishment heavyweights.
