Ireland is noted around the world for a myriad of things. Our prowess in the public house. Our fleetness of foot on the dancefloor. Our 'céad míle fáilte'. However our recent economic good fortune has seen the passing of many of our national attributes and amongst these is the pastime of whistling.
When I was a child everyone whistled. The postman, the milkman, the bloke who fixed the twin tub washing machine, the local priest, the local lunatic, everyone whistled. Nowadays if you're seen or heard to be whistling you get the oddest looks. A workmate was remarking today how he now feels like an attention seeker when he whistles a ditty as he makes his way in the world. How did it come to this? Folks, if you're feeling a little down in the mouth. If there are troubles on your shoulders. Just give a little whistle. It worked back in the eighties when the country was in recession.
There's a picture of the new postvan on Inismór above. It's an electric postvan and can apparently reach speeds of 57 km/h. Unfortunately the island is only a few kilometres long so the postman doesn't get the opportunity to release the throttle too often. However, the postvan is silent when operational and as such would be perfect for whistling in.