Sir, – Further to Frank McNally's Irishman's Diary ("Not to be sniffed at – The disappearing smells of Dublin", August 7th), as a young man, I worked in T&C Martin's timber yard on the North Wall, near the Point Depot. When the wind blew from the south side of the Liffey, the malodorous miasma of the Paul & Vincent fertiliser factory added a none-too-delicate flavour to our lunchtime corned-beef sandwiches.
When the weathervanes swung 180 degrees, we were transported to Elysian fields by the perfume of Lux toiletries seductively drifting from the Lever Brothers factory just down the road.
One did not need to see the Shamrock leaving port, your nose would tell you.
On hot summer days, the overpowering smell of creosote rose from what we called “The Pole Field” . Swarms of men peeled and treated telegraph poles while dressed in heavily creosote-impregnated work clothes that made them look like beetles from a distance.
Crossing Castleforbes Road with half-a-dozen billycans to make tea, one had to be careful that you were not trampled by the herds of cattle that stampeded up the street to the cattle boats.
What it was to experience the vitality and vibrancy of the docks in those never to be forgotten days! – Yours, etc,
ANDY JONES,
Mullagh,
Co Cavan.
Sir, – Frank McNally’s article on smells of Dublin and subsequent letters from readers have led me to conclude that when young we dream of the future, in old age we rave about the past, and in between we have nightmares about the present. – Yours, etc,
SEAN O’BYRNE,
Sallins,
Co Kildare.
Sir, – Frank McNally’s piece on the distinctive smells of Dublin is evocative.
It brings to mind the preoccupation with the disinfection of places of entertainment and other venues.
My most memorable recollection of this practice is at the former Queen’s Theatre on Pearse Street (standing in for the fire-destroyed Abbey), where performance programmes bore the legend, “This theatre is disinfected with Jeyes Fluid”. (The potion is still on the market, and it has not lost any of its arresting pungency.)
The practice, I understand, owed its conception to public-health policy to combat the spread of tuberculosis, which was rampant in the 1950s. – Yours, etc,
SÉAMUS PHELAN,
Artane,
Dublin 5.
Sir, – The smell that brings me back to a small country school room in Clashmore Co Waterford in the mid-1950s is the smell of parings in a pencil sharpener. – Yours, etc,
JOHN FOLEY
Dublin 6W.
Sir, – Frank McNally’s list reminded me of the quip that, “The smell of the Liffey is one of the sights of Europe”.
Dubliners, of a certain age, can certainly remember the truth of this before the Corporation spoilt this “sight”. – Yours, etc,
MICK BYRNE,
Limerick.
Sir, – The whiff from the Liffey at low level, followed by the pong of a muggy atmosphere in a bus on a wet day in winter, as it chugged its way along through the streets, would make one queasy for a fair while. If you had to go upstairs to get a seat, the whack of smoke would add to the horror. – Yours, etc,
MICHELE SAVAGE,
Dublin 12.
Sir, –When working in the power station on Pigeon House Road, Ringsend, in the early 1960s, if there was an easterly wind one would be regaled by the whiff from the sewage works just up the road. If westerly, by the stench from “The Products” just down the road, which processed animal offal.
On days of special indulgence, whether due to an inversion or other meteorological phenomenon, both converged, and you could hit the smell with a stick. – Yours, etc,
JIM CALLAN,
Tallaght,
Dublin 24 .