I'm not a devoted fan of football, but even I gazed at the screen rapt with attention when a team from a small country which has suffered centuries of poverty and colonial exploitation stood in the stadium in Japan to hear their national anthem played. I am talking, of course, about Ecuador which reached the World Cup finals for the first time, and at the same odds to win as Ireland, writes Heather Ingman
Our elder son is Ecuadorian by birth and he followed the team's progress avidly while his mother tramped the streets of Dublin searching in vain for an Ecuadorian shirt or flag. Next time Ecuador is in the World Cup, will someone please import some Ecuadorian shirts? It would make a young lad very happy. Mind you, he's pleased enough with his Ireland shirt (when in Rome. . .), even if ignorant old Mum did get one without the Eircom logo.
Passions ran high in our household in recent weeks. Once, when our family went through Heathrow with our four different passports, the customs officer remarked that it must be like the United Nations in our house. It certainly was during the World Cup. Ecuador and Ireland got our first allegiance. After they went out, loyalties were divided between England and Germany, so beautiful Brazil did for both camps in the end. I'm not going to comment on Mick versus Roy. No good ever came of the English intervening in Ireland's civil wars.
Actually, passports are a sore point in our house. It still rankles that, though I am English by birth, grew up in England, paid taxes in England, I was not able to get a British passport for my legally adopted son. For two years British passport officials sat on our papers, "lost" our papers, prevaricated, dithered - until finally we lost patience and applied to the Irish authorities. Our son now has a lovely Irish passport. Thank you, Ireland. I wish you had won against Spain and gone on to win the World Cup,. This Englishwoman was rooting for you.
Planning laws
Talking of bureaucracy, what has happened to Ireland's planning laws? When I last lived in Ireland it was difficult to find anyone, apart from Desmond Guinness, interested in the preservation of old buildings. We all know of splendid Georgian houses left to decay. There was one opposite our farm outside Mullingar. A consortium of business people bought up the land but had no interest in the very fine 18th-century house. The roof has been off for years and all the splendid plasterwork open to the elements.
But now things have gone to the other extreme. The planning laws seem to have run riot. As long as you have an ancient, historic, derelict building and do nothing about it, the planning authorities take no notice, but as soon as you try to make it habitable again, they are down on you like a ton of bricks.
Old fireplaces
Our house was in a pretty shoddy state before we moved in. I like to think a good job has been done on it. All the old fireplaces have been dug out from the cellar where they were stored and replaced. The old staircase has been polished up. The planners insisted on certain paint colours being used (fair enough), on the retention of an ugly tiled surround in the kitchen (I can live with this, I've covered it with the children's drawings), and on the preservation of a rather damp and worn kitchen floor. All of these are mild inconveniences, but they certainly slowed down the work of making the house habitable and made the job twice as expensive.
I have heard of one couple who took on a fine, historic mansion, hoping to restore it and turn it into a family home. After months of battling with the planners, they gave up and sold it again. I know of another family where four children and three adults are living in a large, historic house with one toilet between them because the planners won't let them put in another one. I know of another case where an 18th-century building is being restored for public use, but instead of wooden stairs to match the original wooden bannister, the planners are insisting on either a stone staircase (unsafe) or a carpet which, given the number of people who will be treading on it, will soon look dirty and worn.
I'm in favour of preserving buildings as close to their original state as possible. But it is disheartening - and sometimes just too costly - for people who are actually trying to do something to preserve the country's heritage, when planners insist on adherence to every detail regardless of the discomfort to those who are actually going to use the buildings. Surely there must be a happy medium between destroying heritage and preserving it in pedantic detail? If we don't strike a balance, people will simply become reluctant to take on these old buildings and more of them will be left to rot.
Plastic bags
While I'm on about the environment, Ireland's new policy on plastic bags has been exciting much admiration from our English visitors. It is a great idea that has led to an immediate reduction in the numbers of trees and hedges festooned with the things. The only drawback is that years of conditioning have left me unable to remember to take a bag to the shops. My children have been much quicker to cop on. Perhaps the idea will be borrowed by England? It wouldn't be the first time we have borrowed things. It was pointed out to me recently that the gold state coach in which Queen Elizabeth travelled in her jubilee procession to St Paul's was "borrowed" from Ireland. Is this true? Do you want it back?
On the other hand, Ireland's new cleaner image may be due to adopting the advice I saw recently on a notice on a truck that shall be nameless: "Keep Ireland Tidy. Dump Your Rubbish in England." Thanks a lot. We have quite enough of our own.