Trevor Laffan

Back in the 19^th century, rag-and-bone men went from house to house with their hand carts, gathering unwanted bits and pieces. You could say they were the original recyclers because they collected anything with a resale value and put it back in circulation. Scrap metal was melted down and reformed, rags were sold to paper mills for use in the making of certain types of paper and old bones were used in fertilisers and soaps.

Just in case you didn’t know, soap was once made from ash and lime mixed with oil and beer or mutton fat which was heated to a high temperature before being mixed with flour and made into the required shape. None of your fancy cleansers back then.

Anyway, I’m too young to remember rag-and-bone men, but I do remember the traditional dustmen. They hoisted the bins onto their shoulders and tipped the contents into the back of the dust lorry. You knew when they were coming too because they dropped the metal lids on the footpath as they went along and made quite a racket.

Lonnie Donegan had a song about them that hit the top of the charts in 1960.

Oi! My old man’s a dustman
He wears a dustman’s hat
He wears cor-blimey trousers
And he lives in a council flat

Everybody had coal fires or stoves in those days and anything that could burn went in there so lots of dust and ash ended up in the bins, which is possibly where the name ‘dustman’ came from.

There wasn’t much household waste though because very little was thrown away. Clothes, for example, were handed down from one child to the next and when they were torn, they were patched. When they could be patched no longer, they were cut up for rags and any decent pieces left over after that were put aside to be used in future patching jobs or given to the rag n’ bone man.

Before refrigeration, food was bought as it was needed so there was little waste. Fruit and vegetable skins went onto garden compost heaps or were given to the guy who collected food for his pigs.

I can remember as a child, putting the metal bin out on collection day and I think it was more awkward than heavy, but they were eventually replaced with a plastic version and the hot ashes put holes in many of them until people tuned in. I don’t know if they made life any easier for the bin men, but things certainly got quieter on collection day.

The term ‘dustman’ is still used even though waste disposal has changed completely. Gone are the days when everything ended up in the local tip or quarry. They weren’t the most hygienic places. They stank and attracted lots of rats and other vermin and regularly went on fire, sending putrid smoke over our towns.

These days we have green bins, brown bins, waste bins and glass bins and trying to figure out what goes where can be taxing at times. Choosing the right day for the right bin can be tricky too but it’s worth the effort because the end result is a cleaner environment.

Cyprus, my favourite holiday spot, has a different system. They use large industrial type bins, and everything goes into those. They’re placed by the footpaths in residential areas, but the downside is the area around the bins can get messy. While they do have lids, nobody bothers closing them, so cats and birds get in and scatter stuff everywhere particularly when the bins are full. Startled cats frequently jump out and frighten the life out of you when you throw in a bag. Especially at night when it’s dark.

Cyprus experiences the heat of the Mediterranean sun, so the bins can get smelly, but they’re emptied regularly, and the system works well most of the time. There is also an unofficial system in operation and I’m pretty sure it involves a secret society of rag-and-bone men.

I had a few things I needed to get rid of and as recycling isn’t popular in Cyprus yet, I wasn’t expecting to find a recycling centre, so I asked a local resident where the nearest tip was. He advised me to leave the items on the ground by the bins. I thought this was unusual and felt a bit uneasy but did as I was told.

I had two old suitcases I didn’t need anymore, so I brought them out by the bins and left them there. I felt like a criminal as I walked away and when I left the complex shortly after that, I half expected to be abused by someone for littering the street but then I noticed the cases were gone. Both of them. I tried again the next day and put out an old TV set and hey presto, that disappeared too.

I followed that up with an old deck chair, the metal kind with canvas material for a seat. The screws were rusted, and it wasn’t in the best shape, but I opened it up and put it in the same spot. When I checked half an hour later, it was gone as well but there was nobody around. I haven’t seen anybody taking anything either, so there is only one explanation; they are invisible.

Here at home, our refuse collectors are very visible. They’re hardworking too, and we’d be lost without them. They’re out and about in all weathers, exposed to fumes, gasses, dust and God knows what as they go about their business and we’re grateful for the work they do. I’m grateful to my rag and bone people in Cyprus too but I can’t tell them. Maybe I should just leave a note by the bin.

Back in the eighties, I was a young garda attached to Blarney Garda Station. I had recently been transferred from Blackrock in Dublin, and I was delighted with my new surroundings. Village life moved at a slower pace than what I had been used to which suited me fine.

It was a lively spot in the summertime though with all the tourists milling about but there was always a good atmosphere around the place.

I didn’t realise until I got there how popular cycling was. The Blarney Cycling Club is one of the oldest in the country if I’m not mistaken, so it wasn’t unusual to see races being held in the village and I can remember the first time I had to perform traffic duty at one of them.

The cyclists were doing laps of the village and to keep the regular traffic flowing, there were a few of us positioned at different points around the village. We would hold up the traffic until the bunch of riders passed our points and then we would let the traffic flow until the cyclists came around again. It was a stop-go system and it worked fine most of the time.

I had my back turned to the few cars stopped behind me when I heard a shout. I turned around and saw a man leaning out the driver’s window and I could tell he was agitated. As I walked towards him, I could hear him swearing, and it was directed at me. He had a big red head on him, and he wasn’t a happy camper, but it wasn’t until I got up close that I saw the collar. I realised then that I was dealing with a priest, and he was in a right state. Swearing like a trooper.

I was taken aback at first. I tried to engage with him, but he wouldn’t allow me to get a word in. He was ranting about being late for a funeral, and he was threatening to drive past me. I explained to him that driving into the middle of a group of speeding cyclists might not be the best course of action and could in fact increase his workload with extra hospital visits and potential funeral services.  

I only really got his attention when I suggested he was heading for a visit to a cell and not the kind used by monks. When the cyclists passed, I sent him on his way, and he took off leaving a trail of dust behind him. I think that was probably my first experience of dealing with road rage. I don’t remember it being common back then, but it certainly is now.

A survey conducted on behalf of AA Ireland, found that 70% of drivers have experienced another driver’s road rage and over half have encountered aggressive driving from someone else. One in four has experienced verbal abuse from another driver and over 50% of drivers admitted to shouting insults from inside their car. This drops to 30% though if they think the other person can hear them.

They also found the most common type of road rage people identified was aggressive driving. Over half said they had experienced dangerous overtaking, beeping or flashing lights, tailgating and so-called “brake-testing”. 25% drivers have suffered verbal abuse from another driver, but only 1% said they had encountered physical violence outside of the vehicle.

One woman in her sixties found herself in that 1%. She contacted Joe Duffy’s Liveline programme and described an incident she had with another driver on the M50 in Dublin. I didn’t catch what she did to annoy the guy, but they were stuck in heavy traffic when this character approached her car and started banging on the driver’s window with his elbow.

He was shouting at her and opened her door and spat in at her before returning to his car. He cut in in front of her and then kept tapping his brakes. The woman was terrified, so terrified that she wouldn’t even report it to the gardai in case he found out where she lived and came after her.

It’s a pity she didn’t report it because he deserved at least a fine. There was no excuse for that behaviour. Abusing her was bad enough but spitting at the woman is unforgivable and speaks volumes about the guy she was dealing with. He could do with visiting someone like Paul Hunter.

Hunter from the Cork Hypnosis Clinic provides therapy for people who struggle with road rage, and he told the AA why some people struggle to control their emotions. He says 75% of the time it’s about other issues. Something that happened in their personal life like a row with their partner, or trouble at work, then a small thing on the road tips them into unreasonable anger.

Fortunately, we’re still reasonably restrained here unlike the States where that anger can be extreme. NBC reported that in Texas, a man was recorded on video firing seventeen shots at a car during a suspected road rage incident. In the video shared by police, the driver of a white BMW pulled in front of a burgundy Chrysler, got out and began shooting at it.

He fired 13 rounds before he put the gun back in his car and grabbed a second firearm. He then fired four more shots, jumped into his car and fled the scene. No one was hit, but several vehicles, including an occupied vehicle, were struck by gunfire. Thankfully we haven’t reached that stage of aggression here yet.

In the meantime, here’s some advice. The best course of action in road rage situations, is not to engage with the other driver. Report the matter to the gardai instead and let them deal with it.

They say if it wasn’t for bad luck, some people would have no luck at all. That could certainly be applied to a particular hotel in Kerry that shall remain nameless. Happy to be fully operational again after the pandemic, they had every reason to feel optimistic for the summer season. There was a sense of normality as tourists returned, and weddings were back on the agenda, but that was about to change.

My wife and I arrived there around 1pm for a wedding in May. The sun was shining and the forecast for the rest of the day was good too. We gathered our bags from the car and made our way to reception to check in, hoping that a room would be ready so we could change into our finery. 

As we went through the front door though, we sensed that something wasn’t right. The first thing we noticed was the reception area was a bit dark as if someone had forgotten to turn on the lights. The two ladies behind the desk didn’t look very relaxed either and seemed to have a lot on their minds.

Just then a guy dashed through a door from one side of the hotel, hurried across the reception area and disappeared through another door on the opposite side. That wouldn’t have been unusual in normal circumstances, but I noticed the guy was soaking wet. An alarm bell was ringing in my head.

One of the receptionists told us there had been an incident. A water pipe had burst in an upstairs area and one half of the hotel was flooded. It had only happened at 9.30am that morning so at this stage they were still just trying to get to grips with the situation.

When the alarm was raised initially, they thought a few towels and a couple of buckets would be sufficient to contain the water, but it turned out to be more serious. One staff member later described how when they started opening the bedroom doors, water gushed out to meet them. He said it was like the Titanic, so they knew then, they had a significant issue to contend with.

The wedding was due to take place in the hotel at 2pm so by now, guests were arriving in their droves, and all looking for the same thing – a room to change in. The receptionists were in an impossible position but in fairness to them they kept their cool as they juggled things around. Their priority was to look after the wedding party.

There was no electricity in reception, so they were working without their computer system. They were relying on paper lists of guests and their allocated rooms but by then, they knew fifty per cent of their bedrooms were already out of action, so they had to arrange alternative accommodation in other hotels nearby. They were operating in poor light too which didn’t help.

Word of the flood was spreading and there was a realisation that rooms were scarce. Half of the hotel was out of bounds at this stage, but people needed to get dressed and the clock was ticking. Some went outside and got changed in cars and in the back of vans while a few went behind trees in the car park. Others were sent to various bathrooms.

I was directed to a disability toilet which had plenty of room to get changed in, so I was happy out. When I was dressed, I went to leave the bathroom but discovered there was a new problem. There was no handle on the door.

I couldn’t open it, so I had to phone reception for assistance. The receptionist was surprised to hear she had another issue to deal with on top of an already heavy load. Just then, I heard my wife’s voice, so I rang her, and she let me out. As I passed reception, I heard one of the receptionists saying, “I can’t deal with that just now, I have a man trapped in the toilet.” As I passed her, I held my arms in the air and declared I had escaped, and she laughed.

I felt sorry for the staff, but there was a lighter side too. It was like being in an episode of Fawlty Towers. For a flood to happen in a hotel on a normal day would be bad enough but for it to happen on the day of a wedding just magnified the problem. It must have been extremely stressful for the staff, but they coped very well under the circumstances.

They did their best to shield the wedding party and guests from the mayhem that was happening in the other half of the hotel. Once the wedding ceremony got under way, I suspect most people had forgotten about the inconvenience of having to get dressed in the bushes and got on with enjoying the rest of the day.

Some of those who were transferred to alternative accommodation may have been unhappy but in fairness to the hotel staff, they did their best under difficult conditions. Speaking to some staff members the following morning, they all agreed they had never put down a day like it previously and hoped they would never have to do so again.

They said about half the bedrooms were out of commission as a result of the flood and it was unlikely they would be able to use them again before the end of the summer. Bad news for the hotel and a serious blow to their season, but hopefully they will be up and running again soon.

It may be totally unconnected, but I should mention, for those of you with a superstitious bent, that the wedding was held on Friday 13^th. Probably just a coincidence.

Did you know that Ireland is considered a good value for money destination? Well, according to Failte Ireland, it is but they are concerned that rising car rental prices are undermining that reputation. They also worry that those who cannot secure a car booking may decide not to come to Ireland.

20% of all overseas tourists to Ireland rent a car and those who do, spend more time and money and are far more likely to visit rural Ireland. Car hire plays an important role in facilitating tourism but the cost of renting a car here is high compared to the European average.

According to the Irish Examiner, some visitors to Ireland are cancelling their holidays altogether because of the rising cost of renting a car. Visitors here face being stung for far higher costs than those in a number of other top European holiday destinations.

A reporter tried to book a car for the two-week period from eight different airports around Europe and the results showed Dublin was the most expensive. The cheapest option there was a VW Golf at €211.72 per day or €2,964.06 for the fortnight. The only cheaper option was a VW Mini Up at €,2024 or €144.57 a day. 

I know a little about this subject because over the years I have spent a fair bit of money on car rentals abroad, particularly in Cyprus. Costs are rising there too, not nearly as much as Ireland, but enough to make me consider my options and I think my renting days are coming to an end.

Not so long ago, I was able to pick up a car in Paphos airport and hold onto it for a few weeks for a couple of hundred Euro. There were days when it was just parked up without moving, especially when I was on my own, but at that price, it didn’t matter. I was more likely to use it when my wife joined me or if we had visitors.

That’s changed now because the cost of car rental has gone through the roof. I noticed it first about twelve months ago when there was a significant jump in price but this year it’s even worse. I was looking at prices for next September/October and the best price I can come up with is about eighteen hundred Euro. Granted that’s for an extended stay but it’s still too expensive for something just a bit larger than a wheelbarrow and I can’t justify it.

I’ve now decided that the next time I travel to Larnaca, I’m going to try public transport. I have never used it before, so I have no idea how efficient or punctual the buses are but there is only one way to find out and that’s to jump on. If I need a car for any reason for a day or two, I’ll hire one.

It will be different but I’m looking forward to the challenge. Apart from the cost of renting a car, minding it comes with responsibility and I’ll be happy to have that monkey off my back. In Cyprus, when you hire a car you either pay excess insurance, which is an additional daily cost and can be expensive for long stays, or else you pre-authorise a payment on your credit card to cover the cost of any damage caused to it.

That sum varies but it’s usually about €800 or €900. If you return the car without a scratch, that preauthorisation is marked void and there’s no problem. But if you return the car with a mark above the size of a €2 coin, the rental company takes the cost of the repair from that sum. It’s a bit hit and miss though.

Last April, my rental was parked on the side of the street when someone reversed into the driver’s door and drove off. A local guy witnessed it and said the driver was a little old lady. When she was later questioned by the police, she denied hitting my car. It’s possible she didn’t even realise it because the damage was minor, but it was still going to cost me.

The police investigation went nowhere, and I was left to pay for the damage. When I returned the car to the company, they sent a photograph of the damaged door to the maintenance people who estimated the cost of repair at €350. That amount was then charged to my credit card.

To counteract that, I take out an annual insurance policy, around €50, to cover that excess insurance, so I can claim those costs when I return home. It’s a little tedious and time consuming but it’s worth it in the end. Still, it’s not what you want to be dealing with when you’re on holidays.

I’ve been involved in several incidents out there over the years so I’m constantly on my guard and not only when I’m out on the road either. I even worry about the car when it’s in the designated parking space so not having that responsibility next time will be a relief. If I’m thinking that way, you can be sure visitors to Ireland will be thinking similarly and that’s not the only problem for Failte Ireland.

The hospitality industry is crying out for support. Hotels constantly remind us about their struggles during Covid and how badly they need business. They want the tourists to come. They would also like the rest of us to holiday at home, but while they deny price gouging, the costs are still outrageous.

Expensive hotel accommodation, the cost of eating out, and our unpredictable weather are already serious considerations for any would-be tourist. Add the exorbitant cost of car hire to the pot as well and Failte Ireland have every reason to be concerned.

The business community have had it tough over the last few years due to the pandemic. They’re not out of the woods yet either as the high cost of living and the predicted rise in interest rates, continue to make life difficult for them. They need their customers now more than ever, but life is difficult for them too.

Everyone is watching their spending these days, so value for money is paramount. I’m all for supporting the local guy where possible, but they don’t always make it easy. Hotels and car rental companies have lost the run of themselves which is encouraging visitors to consider alternative holiday destinations and many of our shops and stores are failing too. Especially when it comes to customer service.

Some people don’t like their job and you can spot them a mile away. They have no interest in engaging with customers. The pandemic was a blessing for them, with masks and Perspex screens providing additional hiding places.

It’s not uncommon these days, to walk into a premises only to find yourself standing there while the staff continue to use the phone or computer without acknowledging your existence, making you feel like an inconvenience.

I was looking for something recently, and I searched the Internet to see if it was available in my area. It was advertised for sale in a store in Midleton, so I jumped into the car and off I went. When I got there, the guy told me they weren’t in stock yet. When I pointed out that it was advertised on their website, he just shook his head and I left empty handed.

I checked my phone again and found they were advertised in a store in Little Island, so off I went. When I arrived, I was told they weren’t in stock there either, but they should be getting them in soon. When I suggested that having them advertised on the website was misleading, I got a shoulder shrug but returned home empty handed.

A few weeks later, I had a similar experience when I wanted a specific present for my grandson. After checking the opening times for a store in Mahon Point on their website, I hit the road. It was due to open at 9.30am but when I got there, a notice on the door advised me that the opening time was 10am.

I sat in the car for half an hour and returned at 10am. They didn’t have what I was looking for but when I told the lady that it was advertised on their website, she said they didn’t stock it locally. She could order it for me from their main depot, but it would take some time. When I suggested I could have done that myself and saved an unnecessary journey, I got another shoulder shrug.

It seems that stores advertise items they don’t have in stock just to get you through the door. They hope that when you can’t find what you came for, you’ll buy a ladder or a toilet brush instead.

When I got home, two wasted hours later, I sat down with a coffee and my laptop and within five minutes I was sorted. I found the exact item on the Internet, ordered it, paid for it, and had it delivered to my front door. There was no fuss, and I didn’t have to find fuel or parking for my recliner.

Last week I needed a part for a toilet cistern which I couldn’t get locally so I rang three stores in Cork. In the first one, a lady answered, and I got the impression she hadn’t a clue what I was looking for, but she told me to bring up the broken part and she would find something to match it. Not convinced, I tried another.

This time, the lady wasn’t quite sure what I wanted but she was certain they didn’t have it. On my third attempt, I spoke to a lady who told me she had one left and would leave it at the customer service counter for me, and I could collect it there. Success at last, so off I went.

It took a while because I was stuck at the Jack Lynch Tunnel for almost an hour. When I got to the store, I asked a young lad where the customer service desk was and he didn’t say a word, just pointed. I followed the finger and asked the lady at the desk for my part, but she couldn’t locate it. Somebody had moved it, so she went off to find it.

After ten minutes, I noticed she had given up her search and was back at her station dealing with other customers. I showed a guy in the plumbing department the broken piece I had with me and asked where I could find a replacement and he told me they didn’t stock them.

I explained about the lady keeping it for me in the customer service area and he said whatever she was keeping wasn’t what I was looking for because they didn’t have them. Time to go.

As I was getting into my car, I spotted another plumbing supplier. In I went and there was a guy sitting behind a Perspex screen who was busy looking at his phone. When he eventually decided to speak to me, he directed me to the bathroom section. The bathroom section was deserted, and I got fed up waiting and left.

Apart from wasting three hours on my search, it would have been easier, cheaper, and far less stressful if I had just ordered the part online in the first place. Price gouging, bad customer service and poor value for money will drive customers elsewhere and the business community would do well to remember that.

Things pop into my head from time to time that leave me bewildered. Like, how does a huge cruise liner with a thousand passengers on board stay afloat by the quayside in Cobh. But when my small phone falls out of my pocket into the toilet, it immediately sinks to the bottom before I have a chance to retrieve it? 

Or how is it that when the salesman introduces you to your new car, he’ll convince you you’re getting the best buy on the market and guaranteed to hold its value. But when you go to trade in the same car, it’s a different story. He’ll wrinkle his nose at the prospect of having such an eyesore clogging up his forecourt because he says he’ll never sell it. It’s the wrong model.

These things can be explained but there is another question that the best minds still can’t answer; why it is that some dog owners think it’s OK to let their dogs foul public spaces?

It can’t be lack of awareness because it is a popular topic of conversation and regularly highlighted in the media. There are notices everywhere too about dog fouling so they can’t say they don’t know it’s a problem therefore, it must be something else. Ignorance, stupidity, lack of respect, take your pick but meanwhile, it continues to be an embarrassing eyesore.

The cruise liners are berthing in Cobh again after an enforced absence and they’re a welcome sight. It’s great to see the passengers strolling around and enjoying the music on the streets or sitting outside in the fresh air enjoying a pint or some food. Not only do they give a well-deserved boost to the local economy, they also create a buzz about the place.

In fairness to the local businesses, they have played their part too. The shops, pubs and restaurants look well, and the town is clean thanks in no small part to the Tidy Towns gang. They do trojan work, along with the council workers, and it shows.

Unfortunately, a lot of that work is being undone by a few irresponsible dog owners who have no regard for all that effort. The usual suspects continue to allow their dogs to dirty the streets, footpaths and green areas while giving two fingers to the rest of us. I’ve highlighted this issue many times but instead of getting better, it’s getting worse.

I walked into Cobh recently while a liner was tied up at the quayside and the town was busy. The footpath by the Promenade, which is the main thoroughfare for pedestrians coming from the liner into the town, was littered with dog poo. That was the sight that welcomed the visitors.

There was a pile of it in one area that looked as if it had been deposited by a large dog. It was right in the middle of the footpath and was so big and obvious, it couldn’t possibly have been missed by the person accompanying the dog. I thought it was disgusting but some dog owners see nothing wrong with it.

The same people think it’s ok to allow their dogs out in the morning to relieve themselves wherever they like. On the footpaths, in someone else’s garden or on the green areas. They don’t care where they do it as long as it’s not outside their own front door. Then they let them wander around for the rest of the day, unsupervised, to do what they like. It’s happening everywhere and that behaviour will continue until the owners are forced to take responsibility but that won’t happen until such time as we have enforcement.

Dogs are not allowed by law to be out in public unless they are on a leash or under the immediate control of a responsible person, but that law is blatantly disregarded and goes unpunished. Some public parks have allocated certain times when dogs can be left off their leash but not everybody sticks to those times, and nothing is done about that either.

Mary McCarthy writing in the Independent said Palmerstown Park in Dublin can feel like a doggie park in reverse, with the kids penned up in the playground while the hounds and mutts get the run of the place. That’s not right either, but how do we fix it?

It might be worthwhile keeping an eye on our Kerry neighbours to see how they get on. It was announced last year that the movement of dogs and horses will have to be restricted on beaches down there if they are to meet the Blue Flag standard.

The Foundation for Environmental Education (FEE) is responsible for handing out Blue Flag certification for beaches. It is the world’s largest environmental education organisation and prioritises climate action to address the urgent threats of climate change, biodiversity loss and environmental pollution.

According to their website the iconic Blue Flag is one of the world’s most recognised voluntary awards for beaches and in order to qualify for the Blue Flag, a series of stringent environmental, educational, safety, and accessibility criteria must be met and maintained.

To help meet these standards, Kerry County Councillors voted to adopt bye laws to restrict dogs and horses from accessing parts of Kerry’s Blue Flag beaches at specific time periods during the summer. Under these bye laws, animals can’t access the Blue Flag areas of these beaches between 11am and 7pm from June 1st until September 15th.

It will be very interesting to see how this is enforced though. Dog fouling has been ignored for years by local authorities across the country. They claim they don’t have the resources or the ability to identify offenders, so how then will they cope with wayward dogs and horses galloping by the seaside? We’ll have to wait and see.

Questions were asked in the aftermath of the recent chaos in Dublin Airport and rightly so. It was a complete mess with over a thousand passengers missing their flights. The excuses were fairly predictable though.

They are the standard responses we get when anything goes wrong; procedures have been put in place to prevent this happening again and the public will see an improvement in the coming weeks and months.

That covers a multitude but when all is said and done, there seems to be very little accountability. The management are hopeful those scenes won’t be repeated, but they can’t give any guarantees. That’s not good enough.

Somebody made a decision to get rid of a large number of essential ground workers in the airport during Covid 19. Fair enough, we were in the middle of a pandemic, nobody was travelling, and the cash reserves of the Dublin Airport Authority (DAA) were dwindling. They had to make cuts, but did they have to be so deep?

This hiatus was not going to last forever. Most people I know wanted an end to Covid so they could meet friends and relatives overseas. It was obvious they were going to take to the skies in vast numbers at the first available opportunity, but apparently the DAA didn’t see it coming. They said the surge wasn’t in any of the predictions and they weren’t expecting a full return to air travel for at least two years.

That’s water under the bridge now and those responsible will continue to earn very large salaries and probably collect a bonus at the end of the year for a job well done. That’s kind of how it works in this country.

A lady from the passport office was interviewed by Pat Kenny and he wanted to know why there was such a big delay in getting a passport. He also wanted to know why some people had to wait for hours to talk to someone on the phone and why passports were being returned to applicants for further attention months after receiving them. He couldn’t understand why they weren’t returned as soon as issues with the applications were identified.

The lady acknowledged they had been experiencing some difficulties, but they had been resolved now and the public should see an improvement in the service. She told Pat they were employing additional staff and they would be operational in the coming weeks.

They had a plan to speed up delays in issuing passports, including more than doubling passport office staff numbers from 60 to 140 while a new system of Garda certification had also been introduced. This was planned to commence in the following two weeks.

That’s the middle of summer in lay-man’s language which might seem a bit late to the ordinary punter but better late than never I suppose. The thing is though, we always seem to be reacting to foul ups instead of preparing for them. OK, so nobody died waiting for a passport or missing a flight but there are other circumstances where our lack of preparedness could have more serious consequences. Like the defence of our country for instance.

Back in January we learned the Russian Navy intended to conduct military exercises off the coast of Cork. These drills were due to start in early February. The Irish Government protested but the Russian ambassador to Ireland, Yuri Filatov, said that plans by Russia to hold navy military exercises off the coast of Ireland were a “non-story” and downplayed the significance of the navy exercises.

Vice Admiral Mark Mellett, the former chief of staff of the Irish Defence Forces, had a different opinion. He said that naval exercise was the “opening salvo” in the Ukrainian war. He said it was provocative in nature and claimed the defence forces were not in a position to protect Irish controlled waters. He also suggested that we are probably the most vulnerable state of the 27 members in the EU which is worrying. So, what was the plan?

Well, there didn’t seem to be one and it was left to a group of fishermen to stand up to the might of the Russian Navy. They were prepared to go to sea in their trawlers to protect their fishing grounds and marine life. They said nothing was being done to help them, so they would look after themselves.

They felt their livelihoods were at stake and the fishing grounds should not be used for Russian war games. They made a stand, and in the end, it worked out OK. Only for them, those fishing grounds could have been contaminated for years to come if the Russians had gone ahead as planned. It was our version of the Cuban Missile Crisis.

Back in the sixties Soviet ships bound for Cuba with nuclear missiles were confronted by a line of U.S. vessels enforcing a blockade. A tense standoff followed because a breach of the blockade could have sparked a nuclear exchange. The Soviet ships stopped short of the blockade and the crisis was averted.

In our case, we’re ill equipped to defend ourselves. A report from the Commission on the Defence Forces found we can’t protect ourselves from external threats by sea or air. It has recommended a major overhaul of our defence capability which the Government will consider in the coming weeks and months. The standard response.

We’re very tolerant which is just as well because we’re always getting caught on the hop. We expect mediocrity from the decision makers so it’s no surprise when we get it. We’re used to it. It would be nice though, if we could be ahead of the game for once, but I can’t see that happening in the immediate future. Certainly not in the coming weeks and months.

I have been reading up on the subject of near-death experiences. Looking at the things people reported seeing at the point of death. I’m talking about the experiences recorded by those who have survived obviously, because talking to dead people is still a step too far for most of us.

Having said that, there are some who claim to have that ability and they make a decent living from it too. Anyway, back to near-death experiences.

People have given various accounts of things that happened to them during their close encounters with the Grim Reaper. Some talk about having outer body sensations and floating above their body where they could watch what was going on in the room beneath them. Others talk about seeing a tunnel with a bright light at the end of it and wanting to follow it or being greeted by long lost relatives who encouraged them to cross over and join them on the other side.

Most said they were unafraid and felt comfortable in their new surroundings which is reassuring for the rest of us. While I have no desire to check it out for myself just yet, it would be nice to think that there could be a happy ending to my demise. I won’t bank on that just yet though because there are other explanations for these sensations too.

One theory about the near-death phenomenon suggests that these images might actually be memories from our birth being revisited. A baby being born leaves the womb to travels down a tunnel towards a light, and what waits for it in the light is usually a great deal of love and warmth. According to the theory, what happens at near-death is only a stored memory of what happened when life began.

That sounds a bit far-fetched to me. I have no recollection of my birth and I can’t imagine any aspect of that experience popping into my mind under any circumstances. I struggle to remember what I did yesterday so trying to recall events from over sixty years ago would be a complete non-starter.

I have witnessed a few births in my time too and nothing I saw ever gave me an indication that the journey from the womb to the delivery room was a fun time for anyone. I don’t suppose being propelled down a narrow tube is a pleasurable experience for a baby and unless I’m mistaken, it doesn’t seem to be a bundle of laughs for the mother either.

Another explanation requires a leap of faith. Many people have said they experienced visions of angels appearing to help them make the transition to heaven. Doctors, nurses, and loved ones, have also reported witnessing signs of deathbed visions, such as seeing dying people talking to and interacting with invisible presences in the air, heavenly lights or even visible angels.

Some explain the angel deathbed phenomenon away as just hallucinations from medication, but others are adamant the visions still occur when patients are not medicated.

Those of a religious mindset say it’s common for angels to visit people who are preparing to die, to ease their fear of death and to help them find peace. Christian leader Billy Graham believed that God always sends angels to welcome people to heaven when they die.

Others have a more practical view on what happens during a near death experience, and they are inclined to believe it is simply a hallucination induced by the slow death of neurons in our brain. That makes perfect sense to me, but the reality is, nobody knows for sure.

According to Theconversation.com, Neuroscientists Olaf Blanke and Sebastian Dieguez there are two possible explanations for near-death experiences. One, is associated with the brain’s left hemisphere, which features an altered sense of time and impressions of flying. The second, involving the right hemisphere, is characterised by seeing or communicating with spirits, and hearing voices, sounds and music and the different interactions between brain regions produce these distinct experiences.

Some researchers claim that endorphins released during stress can reduce pain and increase pleasant sensations and anaesthetics such as ketamine can simulate near-death experience characteristics, such as out-of-body experiences. A lack of oxygen to the brain might cause tunnel vision and could also trigger hallucinations.

So, while there are many suggestions for possible causes, the most widespread explanation for near-death experiences is that they are hallucinations caused by activity in the brain as cells begin to die. As these occur during times of crisis, it would explain the stories that survivors recount.

What happens when we draw our last breath remains a mystery. It might be angels doing their thing or it could be the brain playing tricks as it prepares to shut down. Those who believe in a life after death probably get comfort from the angel’s theory but not all survivors paint a pretty picture of the afterlife.

Some say they got a glimpse of Hell, and it wasn’t very welcoming. They gave descriptions which included being drawn through walls and doorways against their will and despite their best efforts, they couldn’t fight it. There was an overwhelming force pulling them away, and no matter how badly they wanted to stay alive, the choice was no longer theirs. They were being dragged to hell, whether they liked it or not.

Others described feeling their skin burning from the extreme heat as doors swung open inviting them inside and having to walk a path littered with the remains of dead people. Some told of feeling an intense anger taking hold of them unlike they had ever felt before. Rage consumed them.

Not exactly what I had in mind. I was thinking more in terms of sandy beaches, sun loungers, and an endless supply of gin and tonic.

According to medicalnewstoday.com there is a thing called the Lazarus phenomenon, when the ‘dead’ come back to life. They gave the example of a woman whose heart had stopped beating. She was no longer breathing and was declared dead. At 91 years old, she had lived a long life, but she was not about to stop living it.

Eleven hours later, she awoke in the hospital mortuary with a craving for tea and pancakes. Apparently, she is just one of many people said to have “risen from the dead.”

In 2014, a 78-year-old man from Mississippi was declared dead after a hospice nurse found him with no pulse. The next day, he woke up in a body bag at the morgue having experienced Lazarus syndrome where patients who are pronounced dead after cardiac arrest sometimes experience an impromptu return of cardiac activity.

An article in Theweek.com, listed a few more. A 65-year-old heart attack victim in Yemen had been washed and wrapped in special cloth, according to Muslim tradition. Mourners had placed him in his grave, and were preparing to cover him with dirt, when the man suddenly came to. He was not amused. “You want to kill me and bury me alive,” he shouted. After the shock wore off, mourners gave the no-longer-dead man fresh clothes and turned the funeral into a party.

A South African man in his 60s passed out after an asthma attack and thinking him dead, his grieving family called a private funeral company, instead of paramedics. After spending 21 hours in a refrigerated morgue, the man woke up surrounded by corpses and started to scream. Two workers heard the noises and panicked. They thought it was a ghost and they ran for their lives. The entire mortuary team returned together later and freed the undead man.

I don’t blame them for getting a shock. Seeing someone coming back to life can’t be easy. In fact, I know it isn’t because I’ve had that experience and I’m still not the better for it.

I wrote a story recently about my experience with a dodgy electricity transformer in Cobh back in the eighties and nineties when I lived in the countryside and how we regularly lost power.

I explained how Dick was my local ESB engineer and a regular visitor to my house in those days. Standing well over six foot tall and built like a tank with big broad shoulders and a full beard, he reminded me of the Desperate Dan character from the comic books, but like most men of that size, he was a gentle giant.

One day while I was in the middle of doing something or other, the power went as it regularly did when it was windy because the transformer was overloaded. I made the necessary phone call and bit the head off whoever answered the phone. I was running out of patience and demanded action.

Soon after, I saw my six-year-old son, standing in the hallway with his mouth wide open, staring at the front door. The hallway went dark, so I knew straightaway that Dick had arrived. His massive frame filled the doorway and blocked all the light coming into the house. My son was mesmerised.

Dick came in and I had a little rant and a moan about the constant power cuts. He didn’t say much, he just walked past me into the kitchen and reached up to the fuse board and flicked one of the circuit breakers and the power was restored.

It hadn’t been a problem with the transformer this time. I had tripped the switch myself somehow and I alone was responsible for cutting off our power supply. I was so used to dealing with the bad transformer that I just assumed it was the same old problem.

He just looked at me and smiled but I would have felt better if he had abused me for being so stupid. I felt completely ridiculous, and no amount of apologising seemed adequate. He had a cup of coffee and left the house laughing.

I finished the piece by saying I only discovered a few years ago the poor man had died, and I was so sorry to hear that. That was how the article appeared in the Echo, but I deleted the last line when I published it on social media for reasons that will become obvious.

The day after the story appeared in the Echo, I was sitting at home when the doorbell went. I nearly fell in a heap when I saw who was standing there. Dick was far from dead, and he was right in front of me. He hadn’t changed a bit either except that he was a lot more alive than I had been led to believe.

He told me his phone was hopping from friends, slagging him about the tale of his demise appearing in the paper. He made some inquiries to find out where I had moved to and made his way down to see me. He wanted to see the expression on my face when I discovered he was far from the grave I had placed him in.

The reunion was complete when my son Colin arrived on the scene, twenty-five years since we all previously met in a hallway.

I was shocked but delighted to see him. I apologised for writing him off, but he just laughed as he did the last time I made a blunder. We chatted for a while and when he left, I sat down to write this piece while it was still fresh in my mind. I was grinning from ear to ear and genuinely so pleased to see him.

I had a drop of Jameson to steady the nerves and to toast his return.

Please don’t judge me, but in a moment of weakness recently, I watched an episode of Britain’s Got Talent. In my defence, there was some drink involved and as this excuse is regularly accepted as an explanation for wrongdoing in the courts, it should be good enough for me. I can only promise to do better in future.

Anyway, they had a guy on the show who was hoping to gain entry into the Guinness World Records. It was previously known as the Guinness Book of Records but changed its name in 1999 to Guinness World Records (GWR). He stood there with a serious expression on his face, a female assistant by his side, and an official from GWR to oversee the attempt and to make sure it was all above board. Exciting stuff in prospect then, as he told us what he was going to do.

He announced to the hushed audience that he was going to smash one hundred coconuts with his hand in one miniute. Tension was mounting as he prepared himself and as soon as he got the go-ahead, he started pounding the coconuts with his fist.

He flattened some, missed others and sent bits of fruit flying in all directions. It seemed like a daft idea from the outset, and that’s exactly what it turned out to be. When the time was up, his attempt was deemed a failure. No surprise there.

He wasn’t even close because he barely made it half-way through the line of coconuts. He did succeed in creating an almighty mess on the stage though which confirmed that the whole thing was completely pointless. I couldn’t understand how he even came up with this madcap idea, but I’ve since discovered he’s not alone. Strange record attempts like this are taking place all the time.

The website, TheClever.com listed some odd Guinness World Records that have been attempted. For instance, take this guy Josef Tödtling from Austria. He set an extreme Guinness World Record for being pulled by a horse while his body was on fire. He was dragged for 500 metres, and during the act, there was a car travelling beside him with someone pouring oil over his body to make sure the fire didn’t go out.

That was in 2015 and after setting that world record, Josef tried the same act with a quad bike and set another record. This time, he was pulled for 582 metres, and entered the record books again for being the person pulled by a vehicle for the longest distance while on fire.

We have all used drinking straws at one point, and I would bet, most of us never wondered how many of them we could fit in our mouths at the same time, but one person did. A record for the most drinking straws stuffed into the mouth was set by a guy from the UK who managed to squeeze 400 straws between his teeth. He held them there for 10 seconds and is the only person in the record books who achieved this.

I regularly have peas with my dinner but whenever one falls off the plate, it never enters my mind to see how far I could blow it across the table. I’m obviously lacking imagination because I never thought of pea blowing being worthy of note, but Germany’s Andre Ortolf did. He puffed the pea to a distance of 24 ft 7.66 inches and created a new world record.

If you want to beat that, just find a plain, smooth surface and a standard-sized pea and using the same technique used to blow out birthday candles, blow the pea away as far as you can. And if this kind of thing floats your boat, I feel sorry you.

Another guy set a world record for completing the most rotations while hanging from a power drill in a minute. The drill was anchored to the ceiling and the German held onto the handle of the drill while his feet were off the ground. He achieved 148 rotations on the set of ‘Guinness World Records’ in December 2003.

The sport of weightlifting has been around for many years, but this world record took the activity to a whole new level. In 2008, Thomas Blackthorne from the UK managed to lift an impressive 12.5kg (27 lb 9 oz) using only his tongue. The weight alone was impressive, but he attached the weight to a hook and pierced it through his tongue to achieve the record. My head hurts just thinking about that.

There is another record I imagine Joey Tribbiani from Friends would be proud of and it’s held by an Irishman. The Irish Examiner reported in 2013, that a Corkman entered the record books for the most bras unhooked in one minute.

As a fundraiser for a breast cancer charity, Sean Murray from Skibbereen turned his talents to the kind of challenge most men can only dream of — unclasping as many bras as possible in one minute. To practise for the world record attempt, Sean enlisted the help of a couple of female staff members and nine mannequins. The shop was closed for a spell most mornings to facilitate “staff training.”

“We lined up the nine mannequins and some of the female staff stripped down to their bras and I practised on them, with one of the male staff doing the time- keeping. It was a good team-building exercise,” Sean said, tongue in cheek.

The practise paid off and Sean succeeded in unclasping 91 double hooked bras with one hand, breaking the previous world record of opening 69 bras in 60 seconds. To assist him, 56 volunteers took part, mostly women.

After the event, he said, “I would like to thank Playtex for their support, quite literally.”