NUALA Fennell was a wonderful woman who writes warmly about me in her memoir and claims that it was I who first urged her to commit to feminism; and in that I am very honoured.

She also says -- alas, Nuala died last August and we can no longer have any sparky arguments about this -- that she could never "fathom" how I could change my views about aspects of feminism in Irish life. And I think this is because Nuala was essentially a virtuous woman, and an irreproachable wife. I am certain she would never have had an affair -- actually, I know that her married life was exceptionally happy and fulfilled, sexually and in every other dimension.

When she was a minister of this State, she gave an interview to Hot Press on the joys of orgasm and although she later wondered if that was imprudent, I thought it spoke well for the experiences of her own life. But being, essentially, a virtuous woman and an irreproachable wife, perhaps Nuala found it harder to "fathom" those of us who are, at heart, floosies.

The New Testament tells us that Christ came on earth to save sinners, not those who are already good; and that is why we floosies are drawn to Christianity, because we know, through the emotional car-crashes of our own lives that unless society -- be it through law, custom, community or taboo -- imposes some boundaries and controls, virtuous values will be weakened.

Nuala's lifelong marriage to Brian was, to me, the epitome of social as well as conjugal virtue: what is more useful to society that a couple who stay faithful, raise children in a successful and stable home, live to see the fruits of their love and commitment unto the third generation, producing well-balanced and useful members of society?

And this stability and virtue was built on the steady example given both by Nuala's parents and by Brian's, who embodied, in their lives, the virtuous aspirations of many of our parents, often with some element of sacrifice.

Nuala was almost mystified, in retrospect, that she and Brian didn't live together before marriage -- didn't, indeed, have sex before marriage. At the end of her life, they thought their own decorousness both hilarious and antiquated. But speaking for the floosie tendency, isn't there something to be said for building up a steady courtship through love, flirtation, gradual familiarity and certain restraints so that when the couple come to the marriage bed, their erotic passions are aroused but not spent?

Certainly, Jewish tradition would make that claim, since orthodox Jews forbid conjugal intercourse on certain days of the month (for up to seven days after a menstrual period). I have been told that this practice makes for a passionate marriage bed, and elements of such restraints are used by therapists when treating sexual dysfunction.

The paradox in Nuala's story is that the opinions she affirms are often at odds with the evidence she offers.

For example, she castigates the limitations of the Irish convent school education -- and indeed, she is absolutely correct in saying that in her youth, science and maths were often poorly taught to young women. And yet, personally, she was much encouraged by the Dominican nuns at Eccles Street, praised for her English essays, and encouraged to write by a particular nun.

She -- again, quite justifiably -- castigates the influence of the Catholic church on Irish life at many junctures. She especially loathes Fianna Fail for the way in which it kowtows to the church, in her view, although the truth is that all political parties kowtow to power of any description, and when churches are full to overflowing, as they may still be at a funeral or a special occasion, that is a form of power that successful politicians instinctively recognise. (She admits, for example, that even the more progressive elements of Fine Gael still canvassed for votes after country Masses.)

And again, some of the personal evidence is at odds with her overall generalisations: some individual priests couldn't have been more supportive -- she cites the late Fr Fergal O'Connor, who co-founded an organisation to support single mothers, Ally, in 1971 and Fr Chris Crowley, of Whitefrair Street, who, with Brian Fennell, helped set up a group to try and get male domestic abusers to speak about their patterns of violence.

Nuala's memoir should really be called "from desperate housewife to government minister", because that was her life-path, and it is certainly an inspiration, from many points of view. The great thing about Nuala was that she wasn't a member of the "political class", but she broke through the system by sheer dedication, hard work and family support.

And here's that contradiction again: Nuala absolutely affirmed herself as a feminist, and so she was. But it's clear that what really changed her life, and in every way for the better, was getting married, and to a good man.

Her life before meeting Brian was, as she describes it, dull and boring in a dead-end office job. It was meeting Brian at 19 and marrying him at 22 that opened up the rest of her active, energetic, generous and crusading career.

She describes Brian as her "salvation". Nuala disparages the aspiration that was held out for young women to make a good marriage, and yet, in her own life, she couldn't have shown more dazzlingly the fulfilment of such a destiny.

'Nuala Fennell: Political Woman. A Memoir' Foreword by Mairead McGuinness MEP. Currach Press, €14.99

Sunday Independent