Sir, – Some time ago, as a young-looking 51-year-old, power-walking in my local park, I observed a small boy of about four running towards me somewhat ahead of his mother who was pushing his sibling in a pram. As the said little boy was passing me, he said “Hi old lady”. A little startled, I managed a “Hi” back. After fuming for about two seconds, I had pretty much got over it by the time the little tyke’s mother passed me. But not forgotten.
Fast-forward to 2023, as an upright and still sprightly (I can out-powerwalk any of my offspring), now a white-haired 67-year-old, imagine my dismay when a (seemingly) 12-year-old assistant in a leading chemist shop called me her “dear” not once, but twice. Regretfully, I bit back my retort of “No thank you, chicken”. While in a leading brand supermarket this week another assistant also called me her “dear”. Again, I was polite. But no more! I’m on a mission. The next time someone calls me his or her “dear”, they will be referred to as “My little chicken”! Beware! – Yours, etc,
LIZ HARPUR,
Shankill,
Ramaphosa stays calm with golf diplomacy in face of Trump’s latest Oval Office ambush
‘This is huge’: Northern Ireland traders hopeful about new EU-UK deal as they battle Brexit ‘mess’
I’m a late convert to the charms of the self-important little dog
Paul Mescal tries hard but ultimately The History of Sound is flimsy
Dublin 18.
