at the divine mercy conference in dublin

I have never seen so many religious maniacs per square inch in my entire life.
And that's just in my car on the way up.
My travelling companions are Sarah Coote who is the wife of a police sergeant, and Cistercian Brother Aladocius, who hails from the west of Ireland and is considerably madder than a brush.
He's also considerably more politically incorrect than your average brush.
Sarah gushes informative spiritual insights as we drive.
Brother Aladocius replies with unholy remarks.
When Sarah's gets bored holding forth about the Deity in a manner surely designed to turn me into an atheist, she gets her jollies by bombarding me with questions about my life, my family, my living arrangements, my income, and my social activities.
Obviously her police officer husband was attracted to her for her abilities as an interrogator.
Freud would have a field day.
We make merry progress.
As our car turns into the conference centre, Brother Aladocius leans over and addresses the Indonesian man at the gate who is there to collect our parking fee.
"I know what you want," cries Brother Aladocius. "You're just after money."
My handsome preraphaelite features take on a mildly gothic look.
"That's his job," I hiss.
The Indonesian guy smiles warmly.
A prince among religious maniacs.
I park my car in the designated zone.
Another car pulls in beside us.
A pleasant looking couple emerge from the adjacent vehicle and greet us in warm Northern accents.
"Where are you from?" enquires Brother Aladocius.
"Armagh," answers the woman sunnily.
"Awful place," exlaims Brother Aladocius. "All that terrorism."
"We've come a long way," says the woman on the defensive. "Things are getting better."
The woman's husband hasn't said a word but is looking a bit shook.
I interpose myself between the northerners and the Cistercian looper.
"Where I'm from has had its troubles too," I tell the woman kindly. "I'm from Kildare. Our football team hasn't won an All Ireland in a hundred years."
At the door of the centre I announce that I'm going to check out the book stalls.
Sarah Coote tells me that she and Brother A are going into the main hall to hear the first speaker and will be sitting in the left aisle near the front.
This is important information.
It means I won't see them again until ten o'clock that night when we're going home.
Now that's what I call divine mercy...