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with no mention of our former condition? Reward her amply? I’ve done that and doubly, since she’ll outlive me. I only hope it is enough .
    I’ve not been in the best form lately, and she’s arranged for Mossie to come by for a checkup tomorrow morning. I trust it’s only the same old thing. And not enough real rest. I want to hit the ground running. Sean Dermot and his henchman have already arrayed themselves against me, and I must catch them off-guard, lest they make a “Mossie” of me as well .
    Friday, 2:15 P.M.     Parknasilla: debt conference
    Shane Frost has arrived, and I am dismayed by his duplicity. Here he has the chance to act selflessly foronce and aid the nation, admittedly at some immediate cost to himself. Instead he is shameless in carrying messages from Sean Dermot: a “final” plea, O’Duffy calls it, to bury my proposal and my candidacy. “They’re offering you the presidency. They’ll back you a thousand percent. Guaranteed,” says Shane. “What more could any man want? Prestige, influence, respect on top of your fortune.” What I want is better for Ireland, which requires real (as opposed to the illusion of) power. The presidency is merely a ceremonial post. But I’ve already told him that .
    Shane can be a grand fellow, but he’s just not up to his destiny. Taking me into the bar, which he sees far too much of these days, says he, “It’s important now to know where O’Duffy stands.” Says I to myself, “’Tis more important to know who stands with him.” Then he’s up suddenly to make a phone call. “Options,” says he. Put or call, think I .
    Saturday, 7:00 A.M.     Parknasilla: debt conference
    Still not feeling tip-top, in spite of the medicine Mossie gave me. The flutters again. Walked into Sneem and had a bit of a morning session with the local lads in Sneem House. Lemon soda for me. When I got back I had to lie down for a wee nap—until dinner! The sedatives Mossie gave me are potent .
    Sunday morning     Parknasilla: debt conference
    Arrivals better than expected so far. Many Yanks whose view of Ireland’s future is not as sanguine as O’Duffy’s. Spent the noon hour “schmoozing,” as they say—with them and the Krauts. They are so much alike, the Americans and Germans, that sometimes I believe they are separated from each other by language alone. Both brash, materialistic, aggressive, gregarious people .
    Tried to borrow Gretta’s car to drive up into the mountains and walk it off. She gave me the keys, but I could not find it in the car park .
    McGarr glanced at the bar where now he could hear only English being spoken, and he tried to pick out nationalities but could not. Usually shoes and eyeglasses were tip-offs, but these people all seemed to patronize the same set of conservative clothiers from Savile Row. As far as their accents were concerned, apart from the obvious Texan, the rest seemed to have been born and bred on the Queen Elizabeth or the Concorde, then schooled by Berlitz.
    Palpitations again and serious. I’ll have to make apologies to Shane. He wanted me to meet with a group of Jap bankers to discuss the possibility of the Eire Bank matter, which he so much wants and I oppose, at least until we know more of how I will fare as a candidate. Eire Bank is at least a power base of sorts, and it was my first venture and is therefore most loved. Perhaps I could make it strong again .
    I will take that hike I promised myself. Gretta’s car is back. I can see it from my window here .
    Sunday, 1:30 P.M. Parknasilla: debt conference
    Have paused on the pinnacle of Mullaghanattin, which is spectacular in its desolated beauty. From here I can see Kenmare to the southeast and Dingle Bay to the north. Below me I can also see Mossie Gladden’s stony mountain farm, snugged into a lee ledge of the topographical curiosity that is called “The Pocket .”
    The pocket is a sudden, nearly circular declivity in the mountains that is watered by the two