An Irishman's Diary

A nuclear explosion woke the dog the other day. It happened around midday when he was in the middle of a fitful sleep

A nuclear explosion woke the dog the other day. It happened around midday when he was in the middle of a fitful sleep. He emerged from his kennel, stretching with a luxurious yawn. He thought it was Halloween again, or maybe a car backfiring, but I knew better, writes Frank Shouldice.

Within seconds of the boom I was in the hallway rooting through a stack of now obsolete election material. Call it intuition, but I knew the recently delivered leaflet "National Planning for Nuclear Emergencies" was somewhere in the pile.

Unlike the rest of the unsolicitied literature that infests my letter box, this was one item I meant to read. But I had never got around to it and then forgot about the nuclear threat, especially when it was put into perspective by Roy Keane's seismic departure from Saipan.

Having grappled for weeks with the Keano bombshell I thought I was getting over it. Life was returning to normal - and then this happens right outside my front door. The challenge with the nuclear catastrophe is if you don't act quickly, fallout can ruin your day.

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Comprehension skills

I've never been a particularly fast reader but if there's one good thing about radiation coming down your chimney, it can speed up comprehension skills. From a rather rudimentary understanding of molecular physics I thought it was a good idea to call the dog in. His kennel had not been reliably tested by the Radiological Protection Institute of Ireland (RPII) and besides, he looked a bit sad, as he always does when he's looking in from outside.

The one-sheet safety manual said information was available in "greater detail" on the Internet. All I had to do was find the website of either the Department of Public Enterprise or the RPII and I'd have more information than I could ever hope to use. The only problem was that electricity supplies were severed by the blast so the computer was useless.

It was time for action. I made a cup of tea.

Skipping through the details I found a 1890 number for the Nuclear Safety Division. Maybe they could tell me what to do. Alas, the line was engaged and the mobile phone was useless. Was coverage distorted by the radioactive cloud? Or I was late paying my last bill? Ah yes, I nodded philosophically. My last bill.

According to the life-saving leaflet, the Department of Enterprise would issue information and safety guidelines by radio and television. Super stuff if you had electricity. Were the dog and I at risk?, I wondered. "Radioactive substances released into the air could be carried in a manner similar to a plume of smoke," the leaflet explained. "The amount of radioactivity in the plume would decrease with distance from the site of the emergency." This was a comfort. I drank my tea and ate two digestives, breaking both in half to share with the dog in case it was our last meal together.

Nuclear-free Belarus

I looked out the skylight and saw nothing. Distance wasn't much use to Belarussians when the Chernobyl plant in neighbouring Ukraine blew in 1986 and contaminated everything under a northerly wind over Belarus. That was the irony really, that the greatest casualty of nuclear accident - until now - was nuclear-free Belarus. As nuclear-free as Ireland.

If this was Sellafield Uncovered it's the last time I'm sending Tony Blair a postcard. I tried to work out which way the wind was blowing and, judging from washing on the line, it went from left to right. I wasn't sure if this was good news and didn't even notice the dog polishing off the biscuits as comfort food.

I was consoled to learn the RPII and the Department have an Emergency Plan. It's there, whatever it is. They would know what to do even if I found myself in no position to be told what it was. I was momentarily reminded of the Minister with for responsibility for nuclear safety, Joe Jacob, garrotting himself on the Marian Finucane radio show. That's when the iodine tablet came to mind.

Iodine, wherever it is, comes under the heading "Countermeasures". These are the little things people can do after exposure to massive radiation. Iodine reduces radioactive intake by the thyroid gland, so I was keen to experiment with a tablet or two.

Arrangements were made

According to the life-saving leaflet, "arrangements have been made by the Department of Health and Children to make stable iodine tablets, together with the necessary directions for their use, available to every household in the country." This was great news. They weren't ready in time for this catastrophe but, like a funeral, arrangements were made. That's the main thing. Another countermeasure was to remain indoors "for some period". Another good idea, though it seemed a little vague.

Crops and livestock were probably contaminated by now so food supplies would be restricted. I had a packet of fish fingers in the freezer but maybe the local Spar would stay open throughout the disaster. Perhaps I could get a pizza delivered, seeing as I was supposed to be sheltering.

For the Nuclear Safety Division fleeing does not count as a countermeasure. "It is not envisaged that an accident in a nuclear installation abroad would give rise to the need for evacuation of people in Ireland," it advises. Where would we go anyway? Saipan?

I got to the end of the leaflet and realised there wasn't much the dog or I could do. Maybe it was just a car backfiring after all. Everything was under control. I patted him. He yawned again and we sat in the kitchen waiting for the all clear.

FRANK SHOULDICE