Reversal of trade

YOUR older readers will recall how during the 1950s and ’60s, Irish people travelling to Britain would arrive to family and friends bearing gifts of rashers and sausages hidden in their suitcases.

When I arrive in Ireland this Christmas, I will return the favour by secreting between the trousers, shirts and boxer shorts in my case layers of green and smoked rashers, sausages and, if I can get my hands on them, pig’s trotters.

I apologise in advance to my family for the absence of black pudding in my luggage, but the version they sell here pales into insignificance compared to that labelled ‘Clonakilty’. Better to go without.