cultural differences

A lot of people will misinterpret these comments as being unsympathetic to the Irish, but they really are not meant to be. A few days ago I had to go to a wholly unknown, to me, part of Dublin, which involved the 301 bus. I found its terminus in Abbey St, next to the hideously ugly theatre, and saw the bus was boarding. Years of experience have taught me to get as close to the door as possible and rely on elbows, a club, electric baton, and anything else I'm carrying to do the rest. As I did so I became aware of raised eyebrows and an orderly line of people. The line went from the end of the bus to beyond the front of it before looping round to the entrance. Utterly astonished it took me a few more seconds before I figured that I had to go to the end of a queue.

This was the first time in twenty years I have ever seen people in Ireland queue for a bus. In England, where I was born, queuing is a complex part of a national religion and you can be lynched for overlooking the end of one. What a fascinating insight into regional differences in Dublin I received. Here in Abbey Street people have learnt to queue, for no apparent reason; in Pearse Street it would be unthinkable. I felt quite homesick.