This Woman's Life: Rita Ann Higgins
The second you put your snout into Genesis, you walk straight into the apple. What Jezebel had it? Eve. Who did she offer it to? Uncle Adam. So much depends on the apple and so much depends on bad old Eve for proffering it. I heard a talk on radio one time about malignant shame. It's like your common-or-garden shame but it has much more blush about it. It's a first cousin of a word that was drummed into us at school, náire. Tá náire orm. The literal translation from the Irish is, shame is on me.
Well shame was on me recently when I was caught by an unmarked garda car for rat running. It was on a Sunday morning, no cars around so I thought I'll chance it. Matlock was parked out of sight and he put the siren on and I was nailed. I stopped when it was safe for me to do so. All of a sudden I'm a model citizen full of consideration for other drivers. A few minutes before this I took a very dangerous right turn and I got caught. I felt immediate shame. I felt guilty and embarrassed. I knew I had done wrong and I was going to have to pay the penalty. That little right turn cost me €60 and a dirty mark on my licence. Matlock's pupils widened as I half attempted small talk.
A fortnight ago I said that Galway was morphing into a police state. An article in the Galway Independent this week adds weight to that assertion. It was reported that Labour councillor Billy Cameron raised the issue of hair braiders in the city at a recent Joint Policing Committee (that would be the thought police). It seems he said that he counted at least eight braiders on the streets of Galway. I think it should be knocked on the head, he said. His objection is not because they're not Irish but because anyone could follow the trend and it would clog up our streets.