I hate January, but the misery of the current incarnation was somewhat tempered when I (inadvertently) drew first blood in the opening political spat of the year.

As the Christmas decorations came down last week, the refurbished local library opened its doors following a long closure.

On a personal level, I was delighted to see it reopen, especially at this time of the year. As a young fella, I suffered badly from the post-Christmas blues and reading was my salvation. Enid Blyton’s Famous Five or WE John’s Biggles carried me through many a bleak childhood January. With the library reopened, I’ll stick my head into a big book and hope that by the time I get to the last page, there’ll be a stretch in the evenings.

The reopening was marred by controversy. Killdicken being Killdicken – what else would you expect? Having undergone major renovations, the establishment was due to be back in business before Christmas. However, in early November, while clearing ground for a car park, the builders came on a medieval grave with six neatly buried skeletons stretched therein.

Within hours of the discovery, the place was crawling with toothbrush-wielding archaeologists resulting in the suspension of the normal works until the seed, breed and generation of the corpses were established.

Of course, the delay led to a huge local row involving activists, busybodies and a clatter of my council colleagues. Percy Pipplemoth Davis called for the whole library refurbishment to be suspended until the nature and extent of the archaeological site was established. “This could be as significant as Newgrange,” he thundered. “We could be sitting on a world heritage site.’’

During a heated radio discussion with Willy De Wig Ryan on De Sticks FM, councillor Moll Gleeson told Percy the only thing he was sitting on was his bony auld arse and if we listened to him we would all be left with nothing but bony arses – from the hunger. In fairness, it would take a famine of major international significance to reduce Moll’s rear end to the skeletal proportions of Percy’s posterior, putting it mildly she’s well insulated from a sudden decline in world food supplies. I’m no one to talk; I carry similar insulation but like my nose, ’tis all in front of me.

I held my whist during the controversy advocating a wait-and-see approach in the hope that matters would resolve themselves amicably. I was also anticipating the real row to erupt when it came time to decide who would perform the official opening.

We were all angling for that job. There’s a lot of political capital to be made from wielding the scissors at an official opening. For one thing, the ribbon cutter will have his or her name emblazoned on a plaque which becomes a veritable permanent election poster strategically located in one of the most prominent public buildings in the locality. A political prize worth fighting for.

To go back to the archaeological dig; the findings were swift and conclusive, the six bodies were victims of an apparent house fire and were buried in an isolated grave on a site of no real significance.

Not for the first time, Percy Pipplemoth Davis was left looking like a complete gobdaw. Moll Gleeson was quick to remind everyone about his ridiculous suggestion that the gravesite could be as important as Newgrange. She then turned her guns on my good self attacking me for my silence throughout the whole affair. Positioning herself as the champion of the library, she was determined to have her name on the plaque.

The opening was scheduled for last Friday, 6 January, ‘‘Women’s Christmas’’ and given the day that was in it, the ceremony was to have a decidedly female flair. Moll was sure she had the tape-cutting gig in the bag; she even rang the library to make sure they had a decent pair of scissors. However, the political temperature kept rising and at one stage it was proposed to give the task to a long-serving female member of the library staff, which might have taken the political heat out of the controversy. Eventually, it was decided that the longest registered woman member on the branch records would cut the ribbon and say a few words.

When they trawled through the list of members, who do you think came up as the longest-serving woman member of the Killdicken branch of Tipperary County Library? It was one Mrs Bridget Hickey – the mother.

Wasn’t I the happiest son in Tipp last Friday standing beside herself for every photograph? My chest nearly burst when she mentioned me at least four times in her speech.

A great start to the new year. Now I have to work on getting my name on the plaque beside the mother’s.