SUNDAY: Marian Finucane's panel talks about the funeral of Stephen Gately. Most of them mention a personal or musical dimension. But not Marie Sherlock of Siptu and Kieran Brennan of the Credit Union movement, who work in the collective sector.

Both of them avoid saying anything personal about Stephen so they can praise the "community" around Sheriff Street. Then they sit back and wait for the applause normally doled out by RTE presenters to panelists parroting politically correct bromides. But Marian proves she is worth every penny: "It's an over-used word, community, I have to say. Sometimes it can get up my wick." She is not alone.

MONDAY: Enda Kenny's plan to abolish the Seanad fills my colleagues with fear and loathing. My own views are more mixed. Politically, I am against abolishing it. Personally, my pleasure in it was soured from the start.

After Bertie Ahern appointed me to the Seanad, I expected bigotry from my political foes. What was harder to bear was the belated begrudgery of a few alleged political allies -- who suddenly developed a punctilious public interest in the alleged sins of Bertie Ahern.

True, I have also been dogged by bad health. But I have tried to make a small contribution on the three subjects that interest me most: the position of the Protestant minority, of modest means, which does not live in Dublin; the reform of the political class by means of a severe pay cut; and after that, the reform of the public sector.

TUESDAY: Cork's Bloody Secret continues to connect. The former Dean of St Patrick's, Victor Griffin, was so moved by the programme he writes to tell me that his mother warned him "Victor, keep quiet -- keep off religion and politics or you'll get us all burnt out."

The Dean (he will always be Dean to me) and myself go back a bit. Around the time of H Blocks I attended services at St Patrick's since I lived locally. So did the posh British Provo supporter, Brigid Rose Dugdale.

As the armed struggle went on, the temperature rose in the redbrick streets. Young thugs wielding four- by-twos frequently attacked children from St Patrick's Choir School. One child lost an eye.

Anne Harris wrote a fine piece about it for the Sunday Independent called "The Shadow on St Patrick's". The gardai did their best. But Protestant parents deemed it prudent to keep the head down. It was a reaction of repression, long familiar to their country cousins -- but remote from the pluralist world of the Dublin Catholic and Protestant bourgeoisie.

The Dean encloses a copy of his book, Enough Religion To Make Us Hate: Reflections on Religion and Politics. He marks the following passage. It deals with the period after the enforced exodus of thousands of southern Protestants in 1919-1920. "We as Protestants have to put up with all sorts of things we dislike down here in the Republic, boycotts as in Fethard-on-Sea, in Co Wexford, job discrimination, compulsory Irish, Roman Canon law upheld by the State, the Ne Temere marriage decree (which contributed in no small measure to the decline in the Protestant population from 10 per cent in 1920 to little over 3 per cent in 1990, whereas in Northern Ireland the Roman Catholic population increased by 10 per cent over the same period); a 1937 Constitution reflecting Roman Catholic values, etc."

All in the past? Certainly most Dublin Protestants live on a protected planet. But rural Protestants find the past dies slowly. Eileen Cloney, the child at the centre of the Fethard-on-Sea boycott, recently revealed to the Sunday Times that she had experienced a revival of local tension, particularly on the part of the young.

That is no surprise. The political websites are packed with tribal patrollers who pour out pure poison after every attempt to address what happened to southern Protestants in the period 1919-22. Each incident, be it the Coolacrease killings, the burning of Clifden orphanage, or the Dunmanway Murders, is subjected to tribal scrutiny. If a single fact is found faulty, the experience as a whole is deemed not to exist.

Phoenix strongly supports this punctillious approach. Luckily, it has never said a good word about me. If they did I would disown whatever had earned it. I hope to die in their displeasure.

WEDNESDAY: To the Seanad. The press gallery is packed. Sotto voce, I tell my colleagues it might be wiser not to say a word about the proposed abolition of the Seanad. Recalling Myles na gCopaleen on Irish, I remind them there is nothing as risible as Seanadoiri, talking in the Seanad, about the abolition of the Seanad.

In vain. When the tumult subsides, I rise to recall that the first Seanad was set up to give representation to the Protestant minority, that a delegation is that day meeting the Taoiseach to discuss funding for Protestant schools, that we should support them.

Senator Jim Walsh and Senator Donie Cassidy do so. Coming both from the majority tradition and from the country, they speak with sensitivity. They explain why a scattered Protestant communities need special school funds. Sometimes the Seanad earns its keep.

THURSDAY: To St Vincent's, called to the colours by General Anaesthetic. Waiting, I read a perceptive piece by Tom Molloy of the Irish Independent on the Protestant schools issue: "Any understanding of the modern Protestant experience must acknowledge the near pogrom which took place in the Republic after independence". Doubtless the tribal patrols will demand he define "near pogrom".

Then it is time for David Quinlan and Cathal Nolan. As the latter administers what he jauntily calls "jungle juice" he distracts me with judicious comments on Cork's Bloody Secret. So I go out with a smile. Mind you, on a slow day the Seanad can have the same soporific effect.

FRIDAY: There are two reasons why the grants to Protestant schools should be restored. First, the inherent injustice of suddenly cutting off funds which were supplied for 40 years. Second, the possible political impact of the controversy on progressive politics in another part of this island. Billy Tate, MBE, the principal of Belvoir Park Primary School, Belfast, writes about this angle in the Belfast Telegraph: "I am both a Unionist and a passionate believer in NS links. The focus of my work is on tackling sectarianism wherever it raises its ugly head. This is the type of story that sends chills down the back of Protestants in Northern Ireland, as it makes the ROI look like a cold house."

Time the Taoiseach and Cabinet took this poisoned chalice from Batt O'Keeffe and followed the advice of Archbishop Diarmuid Martin, who supported his Protestant counterpart, Archbishop John Neill, on Morning Ireland.

In the past I criticised Archbishop Martin for being too fast with the politically correct soundbite. He is being brave here, however, because support for grants to Protestant schools is only popular among real republicans.

But the Taoiseach would do well to accept Archbishop Martin's advice on Morning Ireland which can be summed up simply -- give them the grants.

- Eoghan Harris

Sunday Independent