All of this was several years before the word tribunal had become a household word. I had been solidly warned to be punctual because the former Taoiseach firmly believed in the dictate "punctuality is the politeness of princes". At this time, Haughey had achieved the heady rank of elder statesman.

Looking out of the window, I saw the dark-blue state Mercedes enter the driveway. His driver remained in the car, while the sprightly figure in navy blazer and check shirt with open collar, alighted quickly from the front passenger seat and made his way up the granite steps. I observed that he was not wearing a tie. His television statesman's image always seemed to come with an obligatory necktie. I removed my own tie and stuffed it in my pocket. I did not wish to seem over formal when a former prime minister obviously thought this was a casual lunch.

I was standing in the upstairs room when the familiar figure and voice of the ex-Taoiseach was ushered in by the headwaiter. "I see you're on your own" was his opening remark as he extended his hand in a rather peculiar way. It appeared to come at me from above. I had seen him at close quarter in the Dail and at numerous press conferences, but this was my first encounter of a close personal kind.

"Yes, I am on my own, sir." I found myself adding "sir", not as a residual act of sycophancy, but because it seemed correct to address a former head of government in this way. It immediately seemed to have hit the right note with him.

He suggested a glass of champagne.

"Veuve Clicquot, " he directed to the waiter who left the room with a courteous bow of the head. "Ah, the 'widow', " I said, not really being sure as to how he would react to my knowing the colloquial name for this brand of champagne. The steely gaze of those famous hooded eyes met me with mesmeric full-on intensity and just for a moment I thought the remark had instantly upset my meeting with this political legend. "Good man, " he said to my welcome relief, "you must be the only person in RTE to know that." He enjoyed having the occasional swipe at the media and RTE was a favourite target of his ire. He once described an Irish Times editorial rather graphically as being like "an auld one sitting in a bath with the water growing cold around her fanny".

As another waiter entered the room carrying the champagne, Charles Haughey now turned and addressed him in French. This is a gesture the French always welcome, but I had a feeling from something this obvious polyglot said to me before my host arrived that he was, in fact, Portuguese. As the two men exchanged further pleasantries in French, my mind wandered to the famous occasion when Haughey as Taoiseach entertained members of his cabinet to luncheon. After the menu had been consulted by all, the waiter asked the Taoiseach what he wished to have as his main course. He chose beef.

"And vegetables, sir?" asked the waiter.

Haughey, looking straight at his ministers who were still consulting their menus, said "they'll all have the same". Apocryphal or not, it has the ring of a true Haughey story.

A 1982 Chateau Calon-Segur was ordered. "Two bottles and decant them now please." We were beginning to discuss the wines when the door was opened to admit the other luncheon guest, who arrived slightly but elegantly breathless, moving across to greet our host with "sorry, I'm late sweetie, but I couldn't get away from the office". The other guest was journalist Terry Keane.

A great deal of nonsense has been written about how much of their affair was conducted in the intimate opulence of the private dining room of the restaurant. The tales ran the full gamut of sordid tabloid invention.

There were inaccurate reports of the chandeliers in the downstairs main dining room shaking from the vigorous lovemaking which went on above. The truth was otherwise. The most strenuous activity taking place upstairs was the pulling of the champagne corks.

On that first meeting, as we made our way to the table our host had already worked out the placement.

"Would you kindly sit there with your back to the window, " he said to me. The position, to my surprise, was at the head of the table. Mrs Keane was on my right, the former Taoiseach on my left. He looked at me with a half smile and said "I put you there so you can take the bullet." Most reassuring, I thought.

It had often been mentioned to me, erroneously as it turned out in my experience, that my host spent vast sums of money on expensive wines from the renowned wine list of the restaurant. It contained some of the great classics, the price of which, for the average person, would represent a second mortgage even in those days when Irish houses were affordable.

Charles Haughey selected well but not ostentatiously or expensively. I soon realised that he preferred to discover something good that represented value rather than splash out on showy big names.

Only once, during a lunch for two English friends of mine, did I witness him break his usual habit and spend £500 on a bottle of 1967 Chateau d'Yquem. One of the guests was a wine critic for a major British newspaper and the wine in question is a legend in its type. A spectacular gesture and a truly spectacular wine.

Over the next few years, I dined intermittently with Charles Haughey at Le Coq Hardi. The pattern rarely varied. Be it lunch or dinner, he arrived on time and left early. If it was a Monday luncheon, he left at 2.30pm for his weekly doctor's appointment. If it was dinner, I rarely recollect him staying in the restaurant after midnight.

Charles Haughey marked many of his triumphs and at least two of the low points of his public and private life in Le Coq Hardi. When he finally decided to leave office as Taoiseach, he sought out the comfort of his favourite restaurant. In lively company, he dined on wild mushrooms and asparagus and a game dish. He rarely ate puddings, despite his passion for good-quality chocolate.

Over a modest consumption of wine that night, friends recall that the sealing of his fate appeared to be burden lifted as his life in public office drew to a close. Over the next few years, and before the various tribunal revelations, Charles Haughey began to enjoy his favourite Dublin restaurant in a more relaxed way.

The walls of Le Coq Hardi's private dining room would witness one last turbulent moment . . . the finale to his relationship with Terry Keane.

Over lunch, it is understood, she told him of her decision to go public about their relationship on RTE's Late Late Show. Mere speculation, not history, records Haughey's reaction. Charles Haughey never again dined at Le Coq Hardi.