Gifts of silver have become a bit of a tradition on major Anglo-Irish occasions, but the size of the present seems to be in inverse proportion to the importance of the event.
Almost two decades ago, Margaret Thatcher was presented with a silver teapot to celebrate what proved to be a false dawn in relations between Dublin and London.
Yesterday in Dublin Castle, Dr Mo Mowlam received only a silver plate to mark one of the great milestones in the long history of Anglo-Irish treaty-signings.
Ten months after it hosted the count of the State's referendum on the Belfast Agreement, St Patrick's Hall was again the scene for the denouement, as the Minister for Foreign Affairs and the Northern Secretary signed the four documents formally establishing the agreement's supervisory institutions.
It was a solemn occasion, but there were light touches. As David Andrews signed one of the agreements he was heard to mutter: "This will have to go in a museum, like myself." The comment was premature (presumably in both cases) but it betrayed optimism about the extent to which the Belfast Agreement is already done and dusted.
Acknowledging that "one piece of the jigsaw" remained, Mr Andrews said the promise of the agreement was "now so tantalisingly close to becoming a reality that we cannot allow ourselves to contemplate failure".
Then, taking advantage of what he hoped was the last formal occasion before the Northern executive is established, he embarked on a list of thank-yous longer than an Oscar acceptance speech.
The peace process is a bit like Riverdance, however. There's one basic show - so far hugely successful, especially during the run-up to St Patrick's Day, when there are different versions of it playing on either side of the Atlantic.
And even as Mr Andrews and Dr Mowlam went through their carefully choreographed steps on the stage of St Patrick's Hall yesterday, Gerry Adams was leading an entirely different chorus line before an American audience, via an article in the Irish Voice.
So, when answering questions, Dr Mowlam conceded what everybody already knew - that tomorrow's deadline for setting up the executive would pass. "No one wants to go past Easter, into the marching season, into elections," she said, tacitly admitting the first anniversary was now the real deadline.
In the meantime, she added, yesterday was a "terribly important day". Then, with her own deadline to meet - she had to be in Yorkshire by 11.15 a.m. - she was gone, historic milestone behind her and 8-in silver plate in hand.
