On the canvass:Tuesday evening and Eddie O'Reilly stands by the van in St Finbarr's GAA club in Cabra, waiting. Mary Lou McDonald is on the train back from Stormont after a day of history and the canvass awaits. Tom Humphrieswith Mary Lou McDonald
Eddie's phone rings. Hmmm.
He looks around.
"Anyone got an umbrella?" A few shrugs. The rain is starting to spit.
"Wait a minute," says Eddie. "Is this for the candidate? If the foot- soldiers have no umbrella Mary Lou doesn't get one either!"
And so begins another evening on the doorsteps, working the beat that Sinn Féin have been canvassing since last October. A few yards from Eddie, just behind the fence in fact, sits one of the major issues here in Cabra.
Gaelscoil Barra is still in prefabs after 11 years serving the community. Sinn Féin drive home the issues from door to door. Housing. Health. Education.
Tonight the convoy of canvassers make their way up the constituency for a light canvass in relatively alien territory. After years of slog by Christy Burke in the inner city and Nicky Keogh in Cabra, Sinn Féin expect to do well there. Tonight the canvass heads for Clune Road and the streets nudging the edge of Phoenix Park.
When they arrive they are greeted by Mary Lou, fresh from Stormont and radiantly energetic.
"I'm in dangerously high heels, comrades!" she announces, "you'll have to bear with me." And in high good humour the work begins.
There is a strange dissonance between the knee-jerk media response to Sinn Féin's engagement in southern politics and the response Mary Lou gets on the doorsteps.
For the next hour the most strident denunciation Sinn Féin get is from an apologetic middle-aged woman. "To be honest, Mary Lou, we'd be a little bit iffy. I'm sorry to have to tell you that because we know the work you do."
At which point if media depictions of Mary Lou were on the button, she should have returned a stare glacial enough to reverse global warming. Instead, she says: "We'll sure have a look at the material and the local issues and thank you for your time."
Her recognition factor, even in this part of the constituency, is huge. People come out just to say hello. On many doorsteps Sinn Féin in general and Mary Lou in particular are congratulated for their work towards what has happened in Stormont earlier.
Eddie O'Reilly remembers years ago going out on canvasses with Nicky Keogh and nights where they'd stick to the working-class areas that they knew were solid.
"Because you'd get tired of being run off doorsteps."
Now the perception is changed utterly.
"The peace process has made a difference," says Mary Lou. "It does in as much as people are very happy to see the progress. Sinn Féin Ministers are a curiosity to people. It depends on the age group you are talking to. Older people get the historic significance of what happened today a little more.
"They have a different take on Ian Paisley, for instance. They'd also have more set ideas and ways of voting sometimes and, yes, some would have problems with the Troubles, but things have changed. The way people perceive Sinn Féin has changed."
Mary Lou calls back to one door where the woman has told canvassers that she is from Aherlow in Tipperary, where Mary Lou's mother hails from. A warm chat exploring connections ensues as the canvassers disappear up the road, looking back anxiously for their candidate.
It's that sort of evening. The father of Mary Lou's daughter's creche minder strolls past. A long discussion takes place on the merits of Steven Gerrard, the Liverpool midfielder.
There's a long hold-up at one door. The woman of the house has asked to see Mary Lou. The previous three politicians have run away when asked this question, says the woman.
"Well, what is it?" asks Mary Lou.
"What are you going to do about all the blacks?"
And for 15 minutes Mary Lou explains the difference between blaming Michael McDowell's policies and blaming the victims of those policies.
The woman wants to know who is buying all the houses for "the blacks" and who is buying "them their cars".
Her daughter is living in Dublin 15 and never sees a white face. She's had to struggle for everything and "these people get it all handed to them". One black woman even pushed past the woman at the supermarket and she was so scared she got the security man to see her to her car.
"Well," says Mary Lou, "bad manners are bad manners. It doesn't really matter what colour a person is. Now don't think these poor people who come here for a better life get it all handed to them.
"They rent their houses and they buy their cars. They'd get rent allowance the same as anyone else."
"Hmmm," says the woman "I'm very resentful."
"Now don't be resentful of the poor people who are visible," says Mary Lou as she departs, "remember we all have people who went away to England or America and we would have wanted them treated well, wouldn't we?"
It's not that at the end of things the woman at the door is singing Up With People numbers, but she seems placated.
Her resentment is not uncommon, says Mary Lou, shaking her head. Especially when you get to other parts of the constituency where people still have nothing.
"You have to explain that life is hard for everyone and it's the system that turns people against each other."
The work is never-ending. Last year, when Mary Lou was pregnant, she worked until the end. Finally her husband said to stop this for a while "or Christy Burke is going to be the first man to see our child".
Now there is an end in sight. Mary Lou's foot-soldiers head up along the small terraced rows near the Phoenix Park.
"Housing, health and education," they tell people.
And the people look over the canvassers' shoulders. "Hey, there's Mary Lou! How's it goin'?"
The rain has held off and its staying fine in Dublin Central.