Derek Nally eats bran flakes for breakfast and, although he's not making an issue out of it, this is in keeping with the sensible image of his campaign. Over a bowl of flakes in his Bunclody home on Thursday, he wrote answers to a press questionnaire on his attitudes, with growing disbelief.
"This is ridiculous," he protested at one of the queries. "Sure, that's decided by the government of the day. It's nothing to do with the President."
The ex-garda has no dramatic visions for the Aras, and little time for high-flown rhetoric. Indeed, he has little time, full stop. While Mary McAleese was talking of building bridges last week, Nally was still pinning his hopes of a nomination on a real bridge down the road from his Bunclody home.
This is the one that marks the county border between Wexford and Carlow, two of the five counties whose councils eventually nominated him.
With his place on the ballot secured only last Monday, the first week of the campaign has been a fire brigade exercise.
The man at the pump, campaign manager John Dunne, had by yesterday set up organisations in about half of the State's 41 constituencies, and hopes to complete the exercise within the next few days. A policy unit, of sorts, has been put in place. En route to the ploughing championships in Birr on Thursday, the candidate warned Dunne he wanted to speak to the "gurus" before any announcements emanated from them. Reading Adi Roche's positive reaction to the latest opinion polls, Nally smelt the work of the handlers and declared: "If I get bad poll results, I'm going to say straight out I'm disappointed".
In general, he is wary of his campaign being overtaken by whiz-kids.
"I want to know about all appointments in advance," he cautioned Dunne, half-seriously complaining that this procedure had not been followed in one case this week. "You just stay in touch with me," replied the campaign manager, more than half-seriously objecting that his candidate had been out of telephone contact for five hours the previous evening.
The chief lieutenants of the Nally organisation are, like Dunne, business associates and friends. Canvassers and other volunteers are coming from a range of sources, including the projects - from youth work to security for the elderly - with which Nally has been associated.
But all insist there is clear space between the campaign and Nally's involvement in groups like Victim Support.
The campaign budget has been set at £140,000, and in the interim this is being met by a £50,000 bank overdraft. But voluntary contributions were streaming in this week, especially in Wexford; a garage owner offered a month-long loan of a 1997 Mercedes with a driver and £1,000; a menswear shop offered to dress the candidate for his RTE appearances; and the local soccer club weighed in with £500.
The Nally camp has agreed to Fine Gael's request for a ban on posters. This suits the candidate's stance on environmental issues, but it suits the campaign's tight budget just as well.
However, one of the other donations of the first week has been 300 billboard advertisements from a Wexford businessman, who worked until 4 a.m. on Tuesday to get them in place on approach roads to Birr.
The billboards undoubtedly helped the success of the Birr tour. Without an obvious entourage, there was a danger the two-man visit would be lost in the throng. Instead, Nally was delighted at being so widely recognised.
He was even complaining of a sore hand when he left: "But if you're shaking hands with people, you have to grasp them firmly. There's nothing worse than a limp handshake".
