Sir, – Michael's Harding's reference to butter smuggling ("Even in Leitrim there's no escaping Trump's guff", February 1st) reminded me of similar escapades in my youth. Living in Derry and not far from Burnfoot right on the Border with Donegal, I was regularly dispatched on my mother's old bicycle down unapproved roads to fetch packets of cigarettes for my father.
If I felt really daring, I would cycle back through the Border post and wave nonchalantly at the customs officer, usually my uncle. – Yours, etc,
CHRISTIE COLHOUN,
Ballymena,
:fill(white):background_color(white)/static.themebuilder.aws.arc.pub/irishtimes/1647534191476.png)
Co Antrim.
Sir, – With reference to Michael Harding’s article, I have in my possession a letter from my grandmother sent to my mother in Ireland in 1940. My grandmother requests her not to send over any butter as a friend was fined £50 for receiving a gift of butter. One wonders how the authorities could make such inhumane decisions in the midst of such troubled times and when food was so scarce. It is not surprising that people resorted to smuggling. – Yours, etc,
PHYLLIS McCARTHY,
Clondalkin,
Dublin 22.