On the 15A into City Centre, two women are sitting together, chatting gaily. It’s a sunny day. The bus bumps over the Grand Canal, heads up Aungier Street, makes a right on Harcourt Road past The Bleeding Horse pub.
Woman 1: … and then she took them down to Disneyworld in Florida, you know. Sure, they had a good time. But, you know, it’s all so different nowadays. I think our generation was best, I really do.
Woman 2: Dublin’s changed so very much.
Woman 1: Ah, it has. I was one of 11 children, you know. I was always given hand-me-down clothes and it never did me any harm.
Woman 2: To be sure it didn’t.
Woman 1: Seven girls, four boys.
Woman 2: Gracious.
Woman 1: I can’t remember any of us getting individual attention, but it didn’t do us any harm, you know what I mean?
Woman 2: I do. That’s a big family, a-right.
Woman 1: That it was. And we were so frugal; so very frugal. It was great.
The bus slows to a stop on Dawson Street.
Woman 2: Ah, that’ll be me.
Woman 1: Is it?
The woman getting off stands up; turns.
Woman 2: It was very nice to have met you. What’s your name now?
Woman 1: Sinéad.
Woman 2: Is it? Gracious! I’m Sinéad, too.
Sinéad: Take care now.
Sinéad: Thanks a million.
The bus doors swing shut; the bus heads towards Nassau Street.