OPINION:'The thinking woman's organic crumpet' prepares for another hectic day as Minister writes Michael Parsons
EAMON RYAN finished shaving, patted dry his face and splashed his manly, square jaw with a tingling slug of Christian Dior Eau Sauvage. "Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who is the greatest Green of all?"
He smiled at the reflected truth and radiated a Colgate "ring of confidence". Not for nothing was he known as "the thinking woman's organic crumpet". Knotting a soft, silk Ermenegildo Zegna tie, he thought, with pleasure, of the most agreeable day ahead. An awards ceremony, lunch with the Bulgarian minister for natural resources, a meeting with the Irish Wind Farmers' Association and dinner with the RTÉ Authority. He descended to breakfast. The children were being noisy and he was pleased that the interminable school holidays were coming to an end.
"Daddy, daddy, daddy - mammy won't let us play with the wormery!"
He called them to order using his special "Cabinet" voice (a signal of absolute seriousness): "Oh for heaven's sake, if I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times. A composter isn't a toy.
"Now, if there's any more silliness there'll be no provencale-herb-flavoured tofu sausages for tea. Why don't you all go and play ring-a-ring-a-rosy around the wind turbine?" The Minister liked to start his day with The Irish Times and a large bowl (from the Nicholas Mosse Pottery wildflower range) brimful of steaming porridge topped with a "rainforest dried fruit and nut mix". Reading the editorial comment he purred with approval "Crisis facing the country . . . time for action . . . five minutes to midnight . . . disastrous flooding . . . need to shake people out of their complacency . . . icecaps melting . . . polar bears facing extinction".
"Indeed", he thought, "couldn't have put it better myself".
But as he reached the final paragraph he almost upended his mug of Fairtrade coffee and choked on a largish piece of particularly fibrous dried mango. "This Government . . . out of touch and arrogant . . . poverty levels rising . . . failure to comply with even the modest targets set by Kyoto . . . too many Ministers . . . rampant waste . . . unemployment increasing . . . building on floodplains . . . Lisbon fiasco . . . No sense of urgency".
"How unfair" he thought. "We have achieved so much already. As someone once put it - rather succinctly - 'A lot done, though admittedly, more to do'. And anyway, do journalists have any idea how difficult it is to get Fianna Fáil to budge on even the tiniest issue?" He recalled, with pride, the Green Party's big milestones so far: "The Lightbulbs (Amendment) Act 2008; proposed new regulations on hygiene 'best practice' in farmers' markets; the lifting of import restrictions on goji berries and shiitake mushrooms; and the publication of a White Paper, Whither Broadband? Oh, and a promise extracted from the Taoiseach to consider the introduction of a carbon tax by 2023 if economic circumstances are right. Okay, there had been that unfortunate U-turn on biofuels and the country's carbon emissions were continuing to rocket - but overall it was an impressive list".
Outside, his driver PJ was just polishing off a big breakfast roll and drinking a mug of tea. He always brought his own flask. The last time the Minister had offered him tea he was almost poisoned. "It's green tea, PJ, great for eliminating toxins". But PJ preferred his Barry's.
He never knew if he'd be needed or not. And, sure enough, here came the Minister just putting on his bicycle clips and helmet. "What's the plan for today, boss?" "I'm presenting awards in Dundrum Town Centre to some children who've won a prize for a project on water conservation. Why don't you follow me over?" "Sure you'll get drenched", said PJ, noting the ominous black clouds.
"Oh we all have to do our bit", replied the Minister, "after all, we have a planet to save".