Well, sufficient unto the day was the win thereof. Two goals, neither one a thing of beauty, separated the big-timers from the part-timers in the end. The performance may have been stuttery, but with the summer holidays beckoning Brian Kerr's side won't hang around to read the reviews.

Just as well. They'll be mixed. There were many Irish who didn't make it to the fog-hemmed little ground of Tórsvallur in the windswept little town of Tórshavn yesterday. And at half-time, as the Republic of Ireland slouched in on level terms with a puffin colony, there were many of us who were sorry we had made it.

The Faroe Islands, whose proud and doughty population both attended and stayed away in small numbers, had Ireland on the rack and chewing their nails for 45 minutes. The rain lashed across the pitch, which is tucked conveniently in a little valley beneath the fog which often gives a ceiling to the town.

The oaths and imprecations of Roy Keane could be heard through the tempest. The greying of Brian Kerr's locks was visible from the other side of the field. As the seconds ticked by and the scorekeeper looked more and more redundant, those of us who were innocent bystanders faced the prospect of being trapped on a small island with Roy after the Irish side had let him down again.

We argued first over what might have happened had Saipan been fogbound a few years ago. Wondered then if this misty archipelago and Roy's relentless hunting down of fugitive miscreants from his team and from the fourth estate mightn't make the basis for a fine thriller movie. Then the second half began.

Lordee. Claus Bech Jorgensen, a name that has never been conjured with, took a corner which Rogvi Jacobsen headed just over the bar. It doesn't really get dark in the Faroes during the summer, but either way it felt like this was going to be a long day's journey into night.

On 50 minutes though the gods dealt Ireland a Get Out Of Jail Free Card. John O'Shea made a punt, Stephen Elliot cantering on was upended by Jakob Millelsson, the Faroese goalkeeper. Penalty! Ian Harte stepped up for his first penalty since Suwon. His second goal since exile. That'll do for me, said Brian Kerr.

Eight minutes later Ireland closed the business. Kevin Kilbane struck a deflected shot off a Faroese defender who then lay prone on the ground as if he were going to be shot as a traitor if he got up again.

You could feel a little sympathy for our hosts. There were times when Kerr's men actually looked like a side whose aggregate annual wage equals the GDP of the Faroes. It was easy also to see why both France and Switzerland came here and struggled. The home side were big, muscular turrets of men who's job description had been plainly laid out for them.

The sou'westers began making their way to the gates a little early. No romance in Tórshavn last night, just one of those victories which pros grind out on days when they'd rather be elsewhere. Some had holidays booked for Malaga, New York and other spots this morning, but awake in The Faroes, top of the group with three games to go and a summer to get themselves together again. Not one of the great nights, but an important result.