How agreeable are you?
In the psychological sense of the word, I think I am extraordinarily agreeable, insofar as I am co-operative, compassionate, trusting, empathetic and harmonious. A small caveat. I am not sure anyone else thinks that. Socially, I can be selectively disagreeable for fun, which is gas when you’re 24, but a little more tragic when you’re hurtling towards 62. I hope I am more agreeable than I think, but I wouldn’t place any bets on it.
What is your middle name and what do you think of it?
My middle name is Brendan, after my father. I remember as a child being gutted at having what I thought was such a vanilla Irish second name. When I was about 10, my father proudly showed me a reference he had received in 1946 after his first job in the local creamery in west Waterford. It read, ‘Brendan was truly excellent with seeds and manures.’ For the avoidance of any doubt, the reference then mentioned ‘Brendan’ eight other times. Leaving aside my curiosity as to what specialist talents would be needed for such excellence, I forever then associated my middle name with those seeds and manures. I’m okay with Brendan now, though. I swear.
Where is your favourite place in Ireland?
Mayo. Especially Ballycastle and Killala, the land of my mother’s people. Mayo folk look as if they have been left out in the rain too long, but they’re all strong types. My five-foot mother, Annie, could kill a man at 10 feet, and her brothers had a type of farm boy strength that would make Hercules look like the former host of the Generation Game, Larry Grayson. In the last 25 years, I have come to really love Ashford Castle in Cong, which is, just about, in Mayo. They charge for the air in that place, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Describe yourself in three words.
I have alternatives. Driven, deep and gorgeous. Or, lazy, shallow and hard to look at. There are probably others. That said, maybe loving, anxious and faithful might be nearer the mark.
When did you last get angry?
I used to be angry with people for perceived minor infractions, but I now tend to get angry with myself in the manner of Basil Fawlty. Indeed, I had a full-blown row with myself recently over how stupid I had been spending all that money on two tickets for Liverpool’s next home match, which they will definitely lose. God knows what people must have thought as they looked on.
What have you lost that you would like to have back?
My Newfoundland Cross, Louis, who completely out of the blue died just before Christmas, aged only five. Half-man/half-wolf, he was 110lb of doggy gold, and the gap he has left in all our lives is unfathomable. Like all our dogs, he was pure, unconditional love. He told me on several occasions that he loved me the most – well, he put his giant paw on me because he wanted a treat, but as we all know, that is the same thing. I wish I had him back now, even just for one moment. My own, my sweet companion, bless the road that carries you.
What is your strongest childhood memory?
I have a couple. One firm memory was pestering my parents to get me white linen safari pants for my Confirmation day. They relented. I must have looked some sight in the church, but at least I had white linen pants and no one else did. Later, I found out why no one else did – it was because no one would be seen dead in them. However, perhaps my strongest childhood memory is of my mother and three spinster aunts (all of whom, remarkably, lived with us). They hovered around the house in their ‘dustcoats’, generally about two inches above the lino. It was a glorious time, for I loved, and was loved.
Where do you come in your family’s birth order and has this defined you?
I have one older sister. She is a consultant psychiatrist, and I believe she, probably wisely, gave up on me a long time ago. I’m not sure if birth order matters that much when there are just two of you. We both wanted for nothing and were given everything, which is precisely why I am entirely useless at ‘ordinary’ things. Inflationary cosmology? Let’s have at it. Paint a wall? Sorry …
What do you expect to happen when you die?
As a licensed minister in the Anglican Communion and chaplain, you might expect me to say that I expect to exist in the glorious light of Christ for all eternity. And you’d be right. As is sometimes said, I simply don’t have enough faith to be an atheist, and so am very drawn to the theistic philosophy of Stephen Meyer and others and their discussion of the evidential proofs of intelligent design. One of the greatest philosophers of all time said, “God is the name of the blanket we put over the transcendent mystery to give it shape.” By the way, the person who said that is Barry Taylor, the former road manager of AC/DC. Truth can be found where we least expect it. Go Bazza!
When were you happiest?
I’m always pretty happy, though occasionally sadness does come to call for an afternoon tea. My three years in UCD were stunning. I drove a Nellie bike, wore a tweed jacket and smoked a pipe and a cigarette, occasionally all at the same time. I met a group of boys from Gonzaga College there who showed me what triumph of style over substance really looked like. We are all still friends, and I am forever grateful. I cried tears of happiness when all my children were born, of course. My current wife is from London, and every breath she takes makes me yet more joyful. They are all the measure of my happiness.
Which actor would play you in a biopic about your life?
It’s got to be John Cleese. Though, in fairness, he might find it all too unbelievable to do it justice.
What’s your biggest career/personal regret?
I have no career regrets. As a kid, I thought I might wander into and around God, journalism, criminology and psychology, and those areas are, sort of, exactly where I have wandered. Personally, I wish I had more obviously loved, as I was loved. There is still time.
Have you any psychological quirks?
There are many, but more recently, as us old lads often do, I have become obsessed with locking up at night. There is nothing I won’t lock up – all doors, windows, lights, skylights, ingress and egress points. As for the main alarm, I put it on so many times that I generally end up turning it off. Of course, other quirks are available. Please see several of my previous answers for proof.