The lovely Irish

Nearly every Monday I take our household waste down to the recycling centre. It is only about a four mile drive and I get on quite well with the lads there.

Personally I find this cheaper than paying for the Council to collect your waste. In today's economic circumstances I guess every bit of penny-pinching helps. It was always free to enter and then you are charged per kilogram. However since the economy dived you now have to pay a 3 euro entrance fee but they have dropped the price per kilogram from 67 cents to 60 cents. There is free enterprise for you hey? Whatever will the government think of next to balance their books?

I digress, last week my youngest daughter decided to tidy up her room. Well, well, well, but unfortunately she dumped anything she could think of into the same plastic bag and ruined my orderly mind. Upon trying to sort this at the centre, I was left thoroughly annoyed as it would have taken me a lifetime to find where to put her stuff. I called one of the lads over and said I would just dump it in the household waste and pay some more. He told me not to worry as he would take it inside to the other places and sort it for me. Ever idle I was only to pleased with this.

That was last Monday. Today I went again and when I was nearly finished, the same lad called me over and told me that when he was doing that for me last week he found a half of a 20 Euro note. Now because I have to lip-read and I really battle to understand the Irish, this took a bit of time to explain. He then produced the half note and told me that as the numbers were still on this half I would be able to change it for a new 20 note.

Momentarily stunned,I then thought to myself, " you know that's what's so nice about the Irish, they are fundamentally honest." Now came the hard part in trying to persuade him that I thought he should keep it as I knew nothing whatsoever about it and it was only his honesty that had brought it to light. He wouldn't have it and by this time one of the other lads was also involved and we were going ten men. Eventually I managed to get my point across that it was my wish that they could keep it and perhaps have a few jars on me when they are off.

What I really want to say, is that it made my day and that there is nothing nicer than good old fashioned, honest decency. Just don't let my daughter hear about it.