I still chuckle, fifty years on, when I think of the venerable 'Nosy Parker' that we encountered half-a-century ago on the Dromore Road out of Fintona, Jimmy Stevenson from Belfast was with me, and we were in Willie Young's taxi.
We had pulled onto the grass verge, near a small thatched cabin standing twenty yards or so back off the road to eat a packed lunch. The windows were all steamed up as it was a cold winters day and we didn't see a thing until we heard footsteps and the 'thump thump' of a heavy staff as the driver's window was tapped.
Willie wound down the glass and there stood a wee man, near ninety by the look of him. He had a 'Moses' beard and a cloth cap with earflaps. He peered at us inquisitively. 'Excuse me Mr. Young ' he said. 'Is it the Potato Inspector ye hae with you the day?'
'Nope' said Willie and closed the window. The sound of footsteps started again, - receded, and then drew nearer again. Jimmy in the back seat beside the driver, wiped some of the steam off his window as 'yer man' stepped up to the driver's window again and knocked.
'Excuse me, is it the Tillage Officer you hae?', 'Nope' said Willie closing the window again abruptly. Off the old man went about twenty yards. Then he came back a bit hesitantly. He knocked the window for a third time. When Willie opened it 'yer man' gave all of us the 'once over' again.
'Excuse me Mr. Young, but would you mind telling me who is it that you hae the day?' Jimmy didn't give Willie time to reply. He had the back window lowered, and was ready - 'We are just a pair of gulpins from Belfast', he quipped. 'We came to check if Bessy Bell was still in the same place!'
'Huh', our inquisitor grunted, as he 'birled' round and headed for his wee house. The thump of his staff off the road reflected his anger. Bessy Bell was the name of the nearby mountaintop!
Pat Smyth, 2001
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