Sir, – Frank McNally’s recent recollections of Dublin’s “Lockhards” (An Irishman’s Diary, June 29th) reminded me of an encounter of that era.
Pulling away from a parking spot on St Stephen’s Green, a rap on my nearside window alerted me to a woman of uncertain age and distressed aspect, brolly and shopping bag to hand. “He’s sick,” was her melancholy message.
Already running late, the prospect of taking a strange lady to visit a hospital did not appeal.
My uncertainty drew an exasperated, “I’m the parker’s missus – he’s not here today”.
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The penny dropped, together with the statutory couple of bob. – Yours, etc,