Madam, - Back for a brief visit from France, which has been my home for the past eight years, I was frankly bemused by the Ireland that met me on arrival: V10 Touaregs and Mercedes Benz E500s; panoramic construction sites and monster residences that make my own detached house in suburban Paris look decidedly modest. Not to mention my estranged compatriots, who are now sporting Dior and Vuitton when they used to don Dunnes.
And yet, in this prosperous and affluent nation, refuse collection is a sporadic, costly and unreliable affair, which in one major city (namely Waterford) occurs only on a three-week cycle. In Paris, our waste is collected three times weekly.
Now when I think of Ireland, I don't think of social mobility, or of mansions or Miu Miu, I think of malfeasant maggots in my brother's dustbins. Could it be that the new Ireland, the one born of the Celtic Tiger, is sadly no more than a desperate case of "all fur coat and no knickers"? - Yours, etc,
ANNE LESLIE-BINI, Juvisy-sur-Orge, France.