by Grainne

Patricia Quinn seems to have been a busier housewife than most. In addition to her housewifely duties, she had an inordinate amount of paperwork to do.  Specifically signing her name to papers she claims to have had no idea about. 

Mrs. Quinn, wife of bankrupt businessman Sean Quinn, would have us believe, or rather wanted the Commercial Court to believe, that she didn’t realise she was signing her name to loan documents for millions of euro from the former Anglo Irish Bank.  Taking the “ignorance is bliss” stance to a whole new level there. 

Mrs. Quinn’s barrister, Bill Shipsey’s contention, that she was a housewife with no business sophistication was, not just insulting to every housewife in the land, but plainly ridiculous when you consider the sheer amount of companies she was director of (63 Quinn group companies in this country and 28 in the UK) and secretary of 10 or so more. 

For her part, she would have us believe that in while signing so many bank loan applications she was in danger of getting RSI, all she had responsibility for was the weekly grocery shop and looking after the household expenses.  Mind you I suppose that would have put a lot on her plate, considering the €3m loan the bank was trying to recoup was supposedly for improvements carried out to their family home.  That’d give you plenty to think about alright; how much of it to spend on interior decor, soft furnishings and what kind to render the abode ever more palatial?

Mr. Justice Peter Kelly who presided over the case, didn’t need the wisdom of Solomon to know not to swallow the fairy tale he was being fed.  He said in summing up, that even a glance at the documents she signed would have shown “all but an illiterate person that it was some form of borrowing from the bank.”  He also said she was advancing the “startling proposition” she was a “cat’s paw” for her husband with no clue about documents she was signing and clueless too about being a director and company secretary of so many companies.  Cat’s paw?   Tail that wagged the dog more like. 

Mrs. Quinn did admit that her supposed ignorance of her business dealings was “embarrassing”.  She could have added “enraging” too, given that her husband lost more than €3bn on a calamitous gamble on the same bank’s share price.   Maybe, if she’d been more clued in, instead of being “clueless” as she’s been described, she could have saved him that folly.

Now the money must be repaid by the wife of the man who was once the richest man in Ireland.  Deciding the weekly groceries and the household expenses is going to get a whole lot easier for her from now on.

by Grainne

It’s the time of year when people are mithered going around trying to find the perfect presents for their loved ones. I used to be a card-carrying member of this stressed group, always anxious to get that elusive ‘ideal gift’ for those special to me.

When I think now of the countless hours I spent in my search, the dozens of choices I’d mull over before discarding them, always holding out, believing I’d come up with something better. When I consider now the time I wasted, and the effort, it seems really silly. Because the truth is: there is no perfect gift.

To discover this pure truth I had to do only one thing. I asked myself what would someone consider the ‘perfect gift’ for me?

And it struck me, they wouldn’t be able to decide on any one thing and wouldn’t have to because I like getting pressies and appreciate everything I get, no matter how big or small, cheap or expensive.

Some of the best presents I’ve got in my half century on this planet have been small, seemingly inconsequential things. I’ve treasured every single thing my kids have ever bought me, on school trips, for birthdays and Christmas or brought home from holidays.

I love presents from my sister because her often eclectic taste has resulted in some unusual new possessions for me over the years. One was an umbrella she brought back from Los Angeles for me which has famous literary quotes all over it.

Anyway, my reasoning is this: if I’m content with just about anything as a gift then I’m sure others are too. I even like, and here I know I differ greatly from some of my women friends, getting household items as birthday and Christmas presents. I got a hand-held mixer one year and was delighted.

A blender followed and I was equally pleased. I even got an ironing board one time as a present. My friends look aghast when I tell them this. A Christmas or birthday present, they believe, should be a ‘personal’ present, not something for the ‘house’. A mixer IS personal for me when I’ll be the one using it the most.

I love books and CDs too but when I tell my kids to buy these for me for Christmas they pooh-pooh the idea and insist on driving themselves mad going off looking for something else they think I’ll like. I even draw up a list of books I would like to read to be extra helpful. The same with CDs I compile a list of ones I’d like. Do they oblige? Nope, they buy something entirely different and I’m left to buy the books and CDs I want, myself.

Nor have I ever been one of those women who puts a lot of store in the amount spent on a gift. It shouldn’t be about money.

When I give gifts though I like to make a bit of an effort with the wrapping. While on the one hand I think that wrapping paper, bows and bobbles, ribbons and other adornments are all a bit wasteful, I can’t help it, I like to give a present nicely presented. The new trend to use gift bags has salved my conscience somewhat because they are at least reusable.

I sometimes still individually wrap the presents I put inside, otherwise I swathe them in delicate, coloured tissue paper before popping it in the bag so that the contents aren’t immediately apparent. I’ll always pop a ribbon on the bag as well.

I’ve finished my Christmas shopping at this stage, without getting stressed. With no ‘ideal’ gifts out there with my children/siblings/ friends names on them, the range becomes a whole lot wider and the choosing a whole lot easier.

by Aine

Dear Gaybo,

I expect to see you popping up on my TV screen any day now in the run up to Christmas or hear your earnest tones on the radio. No doubt in your position as Chairman of the Road Safety Authority you feel compelled to advise us motorists to exercise caution on our roads over the festive period. No doubt a Garda spokesman will also pop up soon too on the evening news repeating the same message but adding that they will be out in force to clamp down on drink-driving, speed, etc.

The Gardai will not of course “be out in force” as Government cutbacks have hit their overtime but somehow I think that they think that coming on the news, backed up with footage of some errant motorist being breathalysed is sufficient to put the fear of God into any would-be miscreants.

The Gardai have of late being relegated to Revenue collectors for the Government.  Speeding fines or fines for using mobile phones are all helping to swell poor Enda’s coffers. It’s  not doing a whole lot to bring down deaths on the roads though.

The road safety message is not being addressed properly, I think.

As someone who drives the length and breadth of the country on a regular basis, it beggars belief the stupid things motorist do.

You are fond of mentioning speed Gay, as though 90% of the population drive around at break-neck speed. Not so. The people who are more likely to cause accidents on the roads are those motorists who drive below the speed limit, hogging the white line. The traffic builds up behind them and people take chances to try and overtake.  Hence accidents occur.

What about farmers who drive huge tractors or other farm machinery at night with nary a light in sight? Are we making allowances for them? People who pull trailers behind their cars with no lights, inadequate lighting and no indicators are causing danger to other road users.

What about the one headlight brigade (very common in rural places) – you don’t know what’s coming at you at night – bike, car, its anyone’s guess. People who refuse or forget to put on their lights at dusk or in the dark early mornings? (Do they think they are saving petrol?) What about the eejits that, although they see you coming, pull out in front of you anyway?  That one’s a real Irish habit.

What about elderly people with poor eyesight? I merely point this out to you Gay as I am getting a tad weary of you spouting on about speed and drink driving as if these are the sole causes of deaths on the roads. The lecture has become tiresome. I of course advocate safe driving practices, but see bad driving on a daily basis and it’s not all about drink driving and speed.

by Grainne

December is upon us and consumerism is at its most conspicuous as is usual at this time of year.  Fewer are buying though, those that are are spending less and you know the bottom has fallen out of the Christmas party market when upscale venues which previously wouldn’t dream of allowing anyone but old money and the nouveau rich through their doors suddenly start trying to entice you into their prestigious premises for some Christmas cheer in hopes of filling their depleted coffers.

Santa’s probably been NAMA’d so children would be best taken quietly aside and informed that his assets won’t be in quite such plentiful supply this year and that really, those little wooden train sets we see in toy shops are twice as exciting a proposition as a Playstation 128 or whatever the current model is.  No need for sugar-coating the news for teenagers though.  Time for some plain-speaking with them.  If you can get them to turn off their I-Pods, stop playing with their I-phones or X-boxes long enough to listen to what you have to say, that is.  That, in short, they won’t be getting the more up to date version of said I-Pod, I-Phone,  I-Pad or games console.  Let ‘em take it on the chin.  As in “listen up young adult.  There’s a recession.  Nay depression.  Our money’s been cut.” (you might want to leave this speech until after the budget when an updated version of the penurious state of your finances will be even more evident.)  “So there will be no updates of technological equipment of any kind.  Understand?  Be content with what you have.  Instead gifts this year will be of the CD, books and socks variety.  Welcome to the real world.  Start practicing your expression of gratitude if you feel you cannot summon up a response of downright delight.” 

The American politician, lawyer, college professor and co-director of the Institute for Public Policy Studies at the University of Denver Richard Lamm summed things up succinctly when he said “Christmas is a time when kids tell Santa what they want and adults pay for it.  Deficits are when adults tell the government what they want and their kids pay for it.”  Never have those words had such eerie resonance.

Last Christmas saw some erosion of the more usual levels of consumption we’re used to.  The perception of it was harder for people to deal with, I think, than the reality.  We cut back and we survived.  Heading into our second recessionary Christmas is harder by far.  Incomes have been reduced still further and extra taxes announced in the budget will exacerbate anxiety.  We need no storybook villains this year like Scrooge and The Grinch.  Circumstances have conspired to dampen the festivities and lessen the joy.  For many this year the reality is that it will be a process to be endured and gotten though.  Unless, maybe we take on board the profound words of that story book protagonist just mentioned, The Grinch, in Dr. Seuss’s famous tale ‘How the Grinch Stole Christmas.’ “And the Grinch with his Grinch-feet ice cold in the snow, stood puzzling and puzzling, how could it be so? It came without ribbons, it came without tags.  It came without packages, boxes or bags.  And he puzzled and puzzled ‘till his puzzler was sore.  Then the Grinch though of something he hadn’t before.  What if Christmas, he thought, doesn’t come from a store?  What if Christmas perhaps, means a little bit more?”

by Grainne 

“Trust in banking sector ‘eroded’ ran the headline.  This gem issued from the lips of no less a personage than the Chairman of the Ethics Committee of the association of Compliance Officers in Ireland.  He might just as glibly have announced that Christmas is coming or there’s been a lot of rain lately. 

And to whom do you think he was stating this most obvious of truisms?  Why to a captive audience of some 150 compliance officers from across the banking sector in Ireland.  Make that telling the turkeys that Christmas is coming.  

The sage in question was one Niall Gallagher who soberly told those assembled that they needed to restore trust in financial institutions.  At the risk of stretching the turkey analogy to bursting point that’s like expecting them to embrace their own ceremonial Christmas baking.   Their response was probably to think he should go stuff himself.

In the report of this that I read it’s not mentioned if Mr. Gallagher spelled out exactly why it is that trust has been eroded.   It seems to me that it would be quite important that he did, because they still don’t seem to get it.

They lent too much money to too many people who couldn’t afford to repay it in the boom times and now that we’re bust they’re turning the screws on those hapless people who are either unemployed or have taken pay cuts and are unable to keep up their huge repayments on their negative equity homes.  They lent too much money to hucksters who knew nothing about building but decided to get in on the action to make a quick buck or million as they saw their colleagues do.

These days the banks spend money on costly advertising giving the impression that they are open to lending but ask any businessman with a cashflow problem what kind of response he’s been getting from his local financial institution of long standing and he’ll tell you – a resounding no, leaving the premises feeling lucky not to have been given a kick in the arse to send him on his way for having the temerity to ask.

All this as the captains of the industry walk away with their golden handshakes and huge pensions intact. 

The final straw, if one was needed, was the banks decision not to pass on the ECB’s interest rate cuts to householders.  They laughed in the face of Taoiseach Enda Kenny when he told them they must.  He warned them that if they didn’t pass them on voluntarily, the Government would tell Financial Regulator and Deputy Governor of the Central Bank, Matthew Elderfield to force them to move on interest rates.  He responded with a breathtaking piece of buck-passing, saying today that they don’t want powers to force banks to pass on interest rate cuts to mortgage-holders and other customers.  He said the Central Bank would prefer to address the issue of banks not passing on interest rate cuts as part of his wider regulation of the banking sector.  Oh yeah?  And when might we expect that?  Anytime soon, Mr. Elderfield, now that you are finished imposing punitive lending restrictions on the poor man’s bank – the Credit Unions?

Trust in banking sector eroded?  Destroyed more like, never to be restored.

by Aine

Yesterday saw the launch of the Government’s “Winter Ready” campaign. The initiative is a €15,000 information campaign for householders, businesses and farmers to help us prepare for any inclement weather we might experience this winter. They have decided to spend 23m on salt and new equipment to keep the roads and airports open should we have a repeat of last year’s snow. This despite our favourite weather forecaster, Met Eireann’s Gerard Fleming informing the assembled Government Ministers that “the last two winters were unusual, the previous twenty were mild” and “we have access to monthly projections and there is no indication of severe weather.”  But then hey-ho they have been known to get it spectacularly wrong before!   

So amid dire warnings of a hairshirt budget, 23m euro has mysteriously been found to cover the cost of salt and new equipment. Are you, like me, fascinated by the luck of this Government?  They just keep ‘finding’ money!

Minister Leo Varadkar said that the country is “as prepared as it could be” and that 200,000 tonnes of salt will be in the depots countrywide by the end of the month.  (I have a mental image of Minister Varadkar whistling “let it snow, let it snow, let it snow to the slightly bemused assembled media just after announcing this!)

Alan Shatter, Minister of Justice, Equality and Defence is also the Chairman of the Government Task Force and he said that “a lot of work had been done to improve our resilience.” It would seem that Fine Gael do not want to repeat the mistakes made by our  former Goverment, getting caught out by last year’s winter snow and flooding. Like good boy scouts, they want to be prepared this year.  Very admirable, I’ll concede.  Now today, one day after the launch, I could not get into the website www.winterready.ie (wanted to find out what nuggets of information they were going to share with us) so let’s hope the flooding and snow doesn’t arrive this evening because without such gems on what to do in inclement weather how could I possibly cope?

I have decided in keeping with the austerity measures the Government is foisting upon us, that this winter I will not order an oil re-fill. I will not purchase logs for my wood burner. Oh no, this year I will take myself off to Penney’s and purchase three hoodies, one for myself, hubby and son. Extra large of course, so that we can put loads of layers of clothes on underneath.

I will wear my boots, not forgetting to double up on the socks, from November till March. I will wear a woolly hat and scarf so that only my eyes will be visible. I will buy chains to cover my boots should the snow come and I need to leave the house. I’ll have my shovel at the ready to remove the snow from my drive; I will clear my drains to accommodate large amounts of rainfall. I will confine my diet to only those foods which will warm me from the inside out, soups, stews, etc. Hot toddies at night de rigeur.So while I commend you, Ministers Shatter and Varadkar for your valiant efforts in attempting to keep me mobile, dry, and warm this winter, I’ll be doing my own bit, whatever the weather brings.

by Grainne

It’s said that we shouldn’t ‘sweat the small stuff’, i.e. get annoyed or anxious about small inconsequential things.  I wish I could.  I seem to be genetically predisposed to sweating the small stuff while managing quite well with bigger issues.

I’m good in a crisis, someone to be called upon that’s pretty unflappable, able to react coolly and calmly, capable of taking charge and being competent and measured in my response.  It’s the minor vexations and annoyances I find hard to cope with.

An example is trying to open some types of milk carton. I cannot operate those ring-pull things that seal the spout from which the milk is to pour without getting a shot of milk in the face, in my hair or on my hands.  I hate opening new cartons like that for that very reason.  Why can’t they all have screw tops?

My dislike of automated answering services when I ring some company or service is, I’m sure, shared by many.  Being told “you’re call is important to us, please hold” up to a dozen times while music I don’t like is played over and over, makes me fume.  Worse still is their newish practice of interspersing the muzak with messages directing us to their website where we could find out what we want to or otherwise do all of our business on line, without bothering them.  They don’t say that last bit, granted, but that’s what they mean.  But, like most people, I know my way around websites and if I wanted to I would.  The chances are that my enquiry is something I’m NOT going to be able to get answered by reverting to the web, which is why I’m calling.  

It annoys me when someone in a company I call puts me through to the person or department I’m looking for without saying anything after their initial greeting.   No “certainly, I’ll put you through” or “just a minute”.  Nothing.   I have to assume he/she is going to acede to my request but I don’t know for sure.

My irritation levels go through the roof when I’m driving.  Chief among my pet hates are drivers who brake at every corner, followed closely by those who take a painfully long amount of time to turn into driveways, entrances or side road roads when I’m behind them.   That said, using public transport is also fraught.  I queue for a bus and then, when it comes, the ones that were the last to join the queue manage to elbow past and onto it before me.  Cue much teeth gnashing.  Air travel offers a whole new set of irritations but one of the two foremost that rile me up  is the boarding announcement leading to a stampede towards the boarding gate and down the tunnel.  It’s pointless because people only ever get part-way down before they come to a standstill.  And that’s because of pet airplane travel hate number two, those really annoying individuals who fooster and faff about stowing their luggage in the overhead bins.  The inordinate amount of time this one-step process takes the average air traveller agitates me beyond belief.

It bugs me when I have an appointment for doctor, dentist, consultant, whomever and am not seen on time.  A few minutes wait is ok but beyond that my annoyance levels rise exponentially. 

Bad service generally has the ability to put me in foul humour in short order.  Whether it’s shop assistants chatting to one another and ignoring me or, as happened last week in a store, a staff member insisting on shoving clothing on a rail vigourously down to the end I was looking at something on, to utilities companies with staff who stick to a script and repeat it like a mantra in the face of my pleading to get something put right, it really aggravates me.

My umbrage knows no bounds when confronted by the increasing number of places that demand photographic ID.  And two pieces at that.  And utility bills in my name, proving my address. 

Given that everyday life is rife with opportunities for petty annoyances I run the risk of being in a perpetual snit which is not good for my blood pressure, never mind my equilibrium.  But I have devised a coping mechanism.  I still react with annoyance but it’s tempered with the sure and certain knowledge that whoever it happens to be teeing me off probably has to endure even more vexations than I do.

by Grainne

It’s been a surreal sort of week.  Freak weather caused flash floods that wreaked hundreds of thousands of euro worth of damage to homes, businesses and vehicles.  Worst still, loss of life, with the death of a young Co. Wicklow off-duty Garda involved in doing a good deed at the time, and the tragedy of the woman trapped in her basement flat when floodwaters came in.

The storm that raged for three days abated long enough to let the Presidential still-hopefuls go about their last minute canvassing in a lacklustre campaign that, despite having such a motley crew of candidates, failed to excite much interest at all among the general populace.  Martin McGuiness reinvention as a latter day Dalai Lama didn’t wash, Mary Davis didn’t inspire (her quango fandango may have had something to do with it) and Gay Mitchell should have been deemed the most inappropriately named candidate as he barely cracked a smile for the duration.  Mind you he had little to smile about considering his own party wasn’t giving him much by way of support.  As for Dana, how can one so twee be so irksome?  After his in-again out-again shenanigans like something out of Lanigan’s Ball, the right honourable Senator Norris lost the plot altogether, sounding more and more shrill with each interview he gave.  A bit like a child who’s had too many fizzy drinks and coloured sweets.  It seems that while many were willing to overlook his previous transgressions in writing letters in defence of his former partner, his working while ‘on the sick’ was a step too far for many. Sean Gallagher managed to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory when people discovered the extent to which he was beholden to the pariah that is Fianna Fail.  And so it came to pass that the mighty midget from the Wesht, the poet, philosopher, career politician and cutest of the lot of ‘em, Michael D. trotted out to the big house in the park.

   Meanwhile on the same day the hoi polloi got to vote on cutting judges pay and did so with relish, 80% of those who voted decided the bewigged ones should be earning less.  They followed up with a resounding ‘no’ to the proposed constitutional amendment to give more powers to Oireachtas committees.  More power?  After what we’ve been through?  What were they thinking?

Then there was the totting up error.  As mistakes go, it was a pretty big one.  I mean how do you forget to take 3.6bn into account?  I’ll never feel bad again about not being able to reconcile my bank statement. 

To add to this surreal feeling, that I was somehow living in some kind of zany parallel universe, where life was similar to here but madder, I noticed last Saturday that practically every street in Dublin has Christmas lights up already.  Not lit, I’ll grant you, but up.  Remember this was before Hallowee’n.  And in a year when I’m thinking less and less people will feel able to, or want to, celebrate the festive season.

What next, I thought?  The decision not to burn, not even to slightly singe, the Ango Irish Bank bondholders, that’s what.  At least they have something to celebrate.  Cold comfort for the rest of us.

By Aine

I was appalled to read of the deaths last Saturday of two local young people, killed in a road traffic accident. Appalled but not surprised. You see I was on the same road very early last Saturday morning and the road conditions were horrendous. Thick, dense fog and drizzly rain made for hazardous driving conditions. To my amazement though there were people driving their cars with NO lights at all on…..never mind their fog lights. (Irish people seem to have a problem finding the fog lights on their cars.)

Time and time again I came up behind cars with no lights on, making their visibility almost impossible. But they were tipping along completely oblivious to the danger they were causing to themselves and other motorists.

Even had there been no fog or rain you still needed your lights on as it was 7.30am and dark and overcast.

I do a fair bit of driving around the country and am always astounded by the driving habits of other road users.

Again last Saturday, I was overtaking a car that was turning left when a lady, engrossed in conversation on her hand-held mobile phone pulled out in front of me. She was completely distracted, and although I believe she DID see me she pulled out without thinking. Two weeks ago I was driving through Mount Lucas in Offaly and I got caught behind a lady who was driving very slowly and straddling the white line. She too was in deep conversation on her (again) hand held mobile phone. Then I noticed the Garda car immediately behind me. It contained THREE members of our finest boys in blue.

The lady on the mobile must have noticed the squad car too and eventually pulled onto the hard shoulder, all the time chatting away. I was AMAZED to see the Garda car drive past without stopping her!!!

I am completely confident in my driving abilities. I have been driving for thirty-two years accident free, thank God. My big fear is not with my own capabilities but of who I am going to meet as I sit into my car for a journey.

A huge proportion of this country are taking anti-depressants and sleeping tablets. This has to affect their ability as a driver. Yet while drink-driving is the focus for the Gardai, do you know anybody that has been stopped for drug-driving. Never mind illegal drugs……. A lot of medication carries the warning “may cause drowsiness” so it’s a no-brainer then that you should not drive under the influence.

What about the truck drivers who are under pressure to get to the port or make a delivery on time and have been driving for twenty hours without a break? What about OAP’s whose vision or hearing is impaired but they still continue to drive?What about boy (and girl) racers who think they are invincible, come up behind you at speed, flash at you to get out of their way? What about tractors and other farm machinery that drive along our roads at night with not a light in the world?

You take your life in your hands every day in this country when you drive on our roads. All you need is to meet one of the above to make it the day you leave to meet your maker.

by Grainne 

Speed bumps.  Don’t you just hate them?  I moved recently when I took up a new job and my route to work, to the shops and to just about everywhere involves traversing dozens of the damn things several times a day. 

I don’t hold with the argument that they are necessary to prevent motorists from speeding through areas where slower speeds are required for pedestrian safety.  All drivers do is speed up between them, to make up for lost progress and for spite.  In built up areas where traffic congestion is an unhappy fact of life, making motorists negotiate over specially placed obstacles in the road as well just adds to the misery and annoyance. 

Then they’re laughingly referred to as part of ‘traffic calming’ measures.  ‘Motorist enraging’ measures more like.

The damn things have proliferated over the past few years as neighbourhoods clamoured to lobby their local county councils to install them in the interests of road safety.  It seemed like every road and street wanted their very own ramps.   And boy did the County Councils acquiesce.   That’s when there was money to spend.  Now that local authorities are mostly broke thankfully we won’t see too many new ones put in.  There’s supposed, by law, to be a standard regulation height of 70mm for the things, but the reality is that they differ in height, width and the material used.  Poorly designed ones cause damage to tyres and suspension and erosion and damage to them makes the problem worse.  Many are now pitted with gouges, uneven and scarred.  And there’s no money to fix them.

Two of the worst are an affront to the lovely village of Straffan in Kildare.  Both seem to have been constructed of some very uneven paving-type bricks or perhaps it’s a surface that was laid on top of tarmac.  In any event they make for an extremely uncomfortable passage because as well as the type of material used, it’s disintegrating in parts. One of them is the most elongated ramp I’ve ever had the misfortune to pass over and I have to do it twice daily.  The annoyance is compounded by having to then negotiate the other one in quick succession.  Now there’s a shop, a church and a pub across the road from each other at this point and obviously pedestrians crossing from one side to the other have to be safeguarded but really they should just have thrown down timbers with nails attached and be done with it.

Not that those metal type ones that are bolted into the ground are any better.  They feel really harsh even though they’re a lot lower than the other type. 

A few years ago, as part of another profession I worked in, I sat in at a County Council meeting where the engineer explained that each speed ramp cost €100,000.  Why so costly for what was essentially a bit of tarmac or cement, the County Councillors asked.  “Signage” they were told.  It was obligatory to erect signs in each direction to advise motorists in advance of their presence.  Now that was several years ago and it was still a lot of money.  Imagine if the money spent on the damn things had been put into road repairs instead?

I wonder if those who so indignantly demanded the installation of ramps have ever regretted the Council’s obsequious compliance?   Maybe when, instead of the smooth hum of traffic outside their homes they now have to continually suffer the sounds of vehicles slowing down then accelerating again, once over the bumps they rue their hastiness?  Have they had reason to curse the damn things as motorists do?  I’ve heard of some cases where people went back to their local authority looking to have them removed.  By the sheer numbers around it doesn’t seem like they’ve had much success.