Magistrate John Fyffe said dispassionately: "If there is any disruption by any member of the public, or any relative — any person guilty of disruption or harassment will be excluded from the court." He sat back and the door in the wall to his right, a few steps up, opened. Three men in civilian clothes came out and down, quickly, smoothly, and were in place below the magistrate, still on his right, within seconds. The third man was Raymond Gilmour.

The banqueting room in Belfast's city hall is used for the really big occasions. It is there that the politicans gather to hear the verdict of the electorate upon them. It is here that they are wined and dined in the successful years. A large stained glass window spells the message out for them. Pro Tanto, Quid Retribuamus. For all this, how will we repay you?

The Angelus was deferred for 25 minutes while homage was sung to Michael Conlon at the November meeting of Cork County Council. Successive councillors of all political creeds tolled a litany of despair at the resignation (duly accepted) of their beloved County Manager, and noon had long since come and gone before they turned in intercession to the nearest other person to God. The Angelus was recited in full by the assembled councillors, the manager, the secretary and the pious press under the sorrowful gaze of a crucified Christ nailed to the wall above them.

Quite the most enjoyable reaction to the recent march against violence against women, and the speech I made at the end of it, was the letter sent to me under plain brown cover by a woman from Longford. "Only in the past six months have I had' peace with my Beast (sic), After 23 years of hell I hit him back with a brush, good and hard".  By Nell MCCafferty