Heart Beat / Maurice Neligan: It is with great temerity that I venture a few thoughts on the tragedy in Mayo that left one man dead and another in gaol. It must be asked, however reluctantly, how it was with bench warrants apparently outstanding against him, the deceased man was at large and able to roam freely. Had they been executed, he might well be still alive and Mr Nally free.
Edmund Burke wrote "no passion so effectually robs the mind of all its power of acting and reasoning, as fear". In the stranglehold of such emotion, the hormone adrenalin is released, provoking the responses of fright, flight and fight, and unleashing some of the basic characteristics of primeval man. Reason may not be an option and often tragic consequences ensue. We were never in Padraig Nally's mind or, thankfully, his situation. I feel that these emotions of fear, indeed terror, led to the death of Mr Ward and the distress of his family. I think he may have come upon a Mr Nally who, at the time, had passed the bounds of reason.
I have no doubt that the judgment was painstakingly sincere and concerned in weighing all factors. I feel, however, that the effect of fear on a vulnerable psyche may have been underestimated. I also feel, in common with what I perceive to be a large majority, that Mr Nally should not be in gaol.
Householders and homeowners should be secure in their property and persons, and right now in this State this is not always the case. A liberal agenda can stretch too far and it insults our intelligence to suggest that those who point this out in the wake of such a tragedy are motivated by political gain. There is little point in commentators arguing with one another on this point. Let us all talk and, above all, listen to the ordinary citizens of the State. Lastly, I think we do not appreciate sometimes what a heavy burden judges carry on our behalf.
Changing to more light hearted matters, I think the Health and Safety Authority and perhaps the Equality Authority (it would give them something to do), should look at the treatment of men in shopping centres and supermarkets. In my working life this never impinged on my consciousness. Now I experience it regularly. I am not talking about basic visits with my wife where we play the fascinating game of me adding items to the basket and she removing them. Do women not understand that anchovies, asparagus and multiple varieties of mushrooms are necessities of life, not luxuries? A useful tip for men similarly situated is to make your addition only as the trolley is passing through the checkout, thus presenting a fait accomplis. If done with a smile and not a triumphant flourish, it may not provoke an attack of the silent movies on the domestic scene. Also noted on these conjugal trips "I didn't bring any money." "That's all right," say I, handing the money to the cashier who promptly gives the change to my wife.
Apart from my paranoid feeling that I am considered redundant on these trips, they are just a part of everyday life. I am really talking about the occasions when I am allowed shop on my own, albeit following instructions and usually supplied with a list. I have not, as yet, reached the stage where my name is added to the list in case I get lost. My last safari was typical of this genre.
I was dispatched with list to a variety of shops in the local centre. I was instructed to acquire as a stocking filler for grandchildren, a Santa Claus badge whose eyes lit when you pressed a button. This could be obtained in the hardware shop. There were a gaggle of ladies around the counter, settling the affairs of the world. Eventually I was noticed. "Can I help you Sir?" "Yes, please, I am looking for a flashing Santa." Without batting an eyelid or losing a second, she replied, "So are we all dear." Exit red-faced discomfited male amidst raucous laughter.
Confidence shattered, I made my way to the supermarket where a lady of mature years had to explain to me how to release a trolley from the rack, as, what I can only describe as a bevy of disgruntled harridans looked on, discussing my apparent mental deficiency.
Worse was to follow. I apparently became invisible inside. "Who's next" became a sick joke. It was never me. I was then struck violently behind the knee by a flying trolley, inexpertly piloted by a young woman who snarled "why don't you look where you're going" as she passed in a blue cloud. I was standing still.
Even selecting items from the shelves was difficult. I received an elbow in the face from a crazed woman brandishing what looked like a ray gun, as she stretched to retrieve an item from the shelf. Abandoned full trolleys and conversing groups blocked the aisles. Dare you interrupt, they intimated. Cravenly I crept on, understanding now what John Knox had meant by "the monstrous regiment of women". I made my way to a checkout which said "six items or less". I then noticed that the lady in front of me must have been shopping for a hotel. When I pointed this out, the roof fell in. The daughters of Eve fixed me with a communal evil eye. To make humiliation complete I was sent back to weigh the mushrooms.
On this day in 1660, Samuel Pepys wrote: "This morning observing some things to be laid up not as they should be by the girl, I took a broom and basted her till she cried extremely. . ."
Good on you Samuel, where are you now when we need you.
Maurice Neligan is a cardiac surgeon.