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Sunshine heals all wounds

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'When the sun comes out and the depression lifts, we realise that it doesn't really matter who leads Fine Gael' Photo: PA

'When the sun comes out and the depression lifts, we realise that it doesn't really matter who leads Fine Gael' Photo: PA

'When the sun comes out and the depression lifts, we realise that it doesn't really matter who leads Fine Gael' Photo: PA

And people wonder why the Greens aren't a bigger political force in this country? Because the only time Irish people think about global warming is at times like this, when the sun comes out in March and suddenly, after what has been a grim few months, we get our summer mania on, cast off our vitamin D deficiency-led depression, and become, for a time, carefree.

All changed this weekend. The spring has come, summer won't be far behind, and now we can put serious matters behind us for a while. We'll have a drink in the open air, Ireland being the only country where drinking outside actually counts as a hobby. We will, of course, leave the car at home in case we are subjected to the Garda's notorious imaginary breathalyser test, which could land you in imaginary trouble and get you an imaginary driving ban.

We will stop worrying about politics too. Indeed, Enda and his chief adviser Fionnuala will have been happy to see the sun coming out yesterday. Because they will know he is home free for a while now. Suddenly it won't matter so much to us that Enda Must Go, Now. We will stop sitting inside reading newspapers and watching the news and brooding over these things. The drone of current affairs on the radio will soon be replaced by the comforting drone of match commentaries on transistors in the garden and car radios of dads parked up by the sea with the window open for a bit of sea air.

When the sun comes out and the depression lifts, we realise that it doesn't really matter who leads Fine Gael. And we will see, in our lightness, that those two college boys are no match for that wily old coot Enda. And now that Enda has made it to spring, shure he might make it to the summer, and then it won't be long before Christmas is upon us again.

The Commissioner might even hang in there too. Because when the sun comes out we tend to care that bit less for a while that no one does anything right in this country any more and that the whole place is in a state of chassis. Instead we will realise that the economy is apparently overheating and no one told us, and we didn't even get a chance to make eegits of ourselves yet.

Even Mammy might feel a bit lighter today, on Mother's Day. Maybe on account of the nice weather she will change into less heavy tights, and agree to come out to lunch, even though she would prefer if nothing were done and nobody made a fuss.

And last night, Dad came home early having headed out early to get an evening pint while the sun was still out, and he sat pretending not to watch Mrs Brown's chat show and didn't give out as much as usual.

Simpler times are here, a taster of a great summer to come we hope.

Sunday Independent