Occasionally, I encounter certain English people of my own vintage who, noting that I am a Dubliner of the 1960s generation, exclaim with much delight: “Oh were you at Trinners?” No, I was not at Trinity College Dublin in the 1960s, and in fact (as I don’t say), I’m bitter and twisted about it. As I passed its gates, I imagined Trinners as something like Brideshead Revisited: a golden place, full of beguiling characters, only with Protestants. There was said to be an Egyptian prince who had his own servant follow him around, and there were all manner of eccentrics, poets, bards, geniuses and drunks. But Catholics didn’t usually go to TCD unless they got a bishop’s dispensation: the Bishop of Kerry was said to be encouraging on this issue but the Kennys