Sir, – Brianna Parkins’s recent article on summer in Ireland being nothing less than a shared delusion (“How to know when it’s summer in Ireland: The signs are subtle so pay close attention”, People, June 7th) got me thinking about the Top 10 of what an Irish summer means to me:
1) Salad sandwiches.
2) The “will I/won’t I wear shorts?” dilemma.
3) Wearing shorts anyway even though I know my knees will turn purple.
Cliff Taylor: Ireland cannot base its economic strategy on the ‘Taco’ theory – Trump Always Chickens Out
Ruby Eastwood: Why would anyone choose to live in a city as ridiculous as Dublin?
Gerry Adams bet big, won big. What does the libel victory over the BBC mean for his legacy?
The rise of extreme Leaving Cert study regimes online: 5am alarms and marathon cramming sessions
4) Queueing for ages for a 99, and when my turn comes I still haven’t decided whether I want sprinkles and/or raspberry sauce with it.
5) “Does it start in May or June?” discussions.
6) Wondering how effective sunscreen that’s five years beyond its use-by date really is.
7) Wondering where all those convertibles are the other 51 weeks of the year.
8) Wexford.
9) The smell of a freshly mown lawn.
10) Sheltering from the sun instead of the rain. – Yours, etc,
HUGH McDONNELL,
Glasnevin,
Dublin 9.
