Drapier is going to begin this week by mentioning a man who slipped quietly away from us a few weeks ago and whose passing meant little, apparently, to this generation of politicians or administrators. He refers of course to the late Maurice Moynihan, one of the great public servants of all time, and a man who did so much to mould the very best of our public service traditions.
Drapier would rate Maurice Moynihan, along with J.J. McElligott and T.K. Whitaker as the three great public servants of the century.
What Maurice Moynihan or indeed McElligott or Ken Whitaker would have made of the doings of the Public Accounts Committee all week is another matter. Events so far have not been particularly seemly. Drapier sees nothing wrong in that. A bit of rough and tumble is no harm in itself provided it succeeds in producing results - and by results we mean getting to the truth of the matter - though as the week went on and one conflicting account followed another, Drapier began to appreciate that Pontius Pilate had a point when he asked in desperation "what is truth?" What indeed?
Drapier thinks that civil servants yet to be questioned will give little thanks to Maurice Doyle who set the tone for much of what followed. Determined to get his retaliation in first, he threw down a challenge to the politicians and did so in a somewhat truculent way. It played well to the first day gallery but in Drapier's view it was a mistake and may be a costly one in that it may well provoke retaliation.
Drapier hopes not, but we are in a dangerous area. Some politicians have bruising memories of advice, honestly given no doubt, which they received from senior officials, which at times was close to being off the wall, and copies of which have been retained by some of the more squirrel-like former ministers who believe all documents are for holding. More than one such person comes to mind and Drapier shudders at the prospect of a prolonged bout of memo trading over the coming weeks.
All leaking is selective and any document with "confidential" written across it is like manna from heaven to the media who seize upon it and invariably hype it out of all proportion. It is the last thing we need at present.
The star of the first week's hearing was undoubtedly Maurice O'Connell. He makes Sir Humphrey in Yes, Minister look like a novice. Maurice has all the qualities of a mandarin but more than that he is a Kerryman, something Sir Humphrey could never aspire to. How he could manage to say so little over such a long period excited Drapier's admiration.
But that said the danger coming from the first week of the Mitchell hearings is that the whole episode will turn into a civil servants versus politicians battle, out of which there will be no real winners and plenty of losers.
In that sense the hearings represent a watershed in Irish public life and it might be no harm if all involved pause a moment to ask whether this is something they really want to see happening.
Up to now civil servants would argue that it was their job to give advice, to give it honestly, let the Government decide and then they would implement that decision. Now they say they are precluded from doing their job properly, first because under Freedom of Information guidelines their advice can be made public almost immediately, which means they will be less frank than they might be otherwise; and secondly, because they now run the risk of being savaged in public by politicians, often out of context and for ulterior motives.
They have a point which Drapier does not underestimate. Against that point can be argued the theory of the "permanent government" so beloved of the late John Healy - that civil servants regard ministers as birds of passage, giving the minister only such advice as they think appropriate, endlessly delaying or obstructing decisions they do not like, or, as we saw recently in fallout from the Department of Agriculture, not even bothering to implement Cabinet decisions. And all of this behind a wall of secrecy.
The dilemma, as ever, lies in striking a balance, combining the open society with procedural efficiency and necessary confidentiality. Unlike much of the media coverage, we are not into a "good guys versus bad guys" or black and white issues, but into serious questions about effective and accountable conduct of public business.
In one sense that is why Drapier was taken aback by the fractious and at times petulant tone of so much of this week's hearings. He would urge Jim Mitchell to be less Vincent Browne, more Gerry Barry, in asking questions. Remember the late Sam Ervin, who chaired the Watergate hearings and who drew more blood through old world courtesy and civility than through abrasiveness. It's an example the Committee might follow with profit.
On then to the promised Green Paper on abortion. Drapier has no doubt the debate on this will not be rushed. It is a serious subject and we do need to have all the options before us in a calm and rational way and the debate needs to be taken out of the hands of the zealots. On this point Drapier recalls meeting a senior US politician recently. They were talking about politics and suddenly out of nowhere the American said, "you know, they spook me".
Drapier asked who. "The abortion zealots of course - both sides, the pro and the anti", he was told.
"You meet them and they have that glazed faraway look in their eyes, total certainty about their own rightness and an equally firm belief in the evil motives of the other side. I learned long ago it was a nowin situation for any politician. There is no point even in talking to them. All you can hope is that the sensible middle ground will hold its nerve."
Drapier said "amen" to that. He feels, moreover, that the middle ground is growing. Certainly, Mrs Drapier who is a good judge of these matters, tells him that many older people who were "God-squadded" in the past now see the matter as far more complex than either side would portray and the fallout from the Baby A and Baby B cases will give people pause for thought. Drapier thinks she may be right and certainly hopes she is.
Meanwhile the news up North is increasingly gloomy. The two governments appear paralysed, the Provisionals impervious and increasingly brazen, Gerry Adams and the politicians increasingly marginalised, David Trimble unable to bring his party with him, the Unionist diehards increasingly strident and Mo Mowlam ever more frazzled. It is a mess.
But yet, we have come so far. We have seen sight of what is possible.
Once again George Mitchell's shoulders are being asked to carry a heavy burden.