Hello Miriam,

DO you remember me? You were my first girlfriend (it’s 1970). We got on great together; we had no cars, house or mobile phones back then. We went places in taxis, trains and buses. Our first date was a staff dinner-dance in the Gresham Hotel. You wore a lilac dress and I had a dress suit.

I stood on the end of your dress that night and your hem fell down, but you laughed it off. We went to dances, ballad shows, restaurants. We were good together. Do you remember the Paradiso in Westmoreland Street? All the lovely apple strudel and tea and coffee, and the lovely surroundings.

You worked in the printing office with Gerry, and I was a salesman. I wanted to go on holidays, but you were not interested and we parted company but remained friends.

I had many great holidays. I never dated anyone, as I always had you on my mind hoping that some day we would get back together again.

I know I broke your heart back then. I was only 19 and told you I wouldn’t get married until I was at least 30 (I really scared you off ).

You had no intention of hanging around waiting for me, and rightly so. I am now in my early 60s. I have never married.

I came out of work before retirement date because of bullying that was never resolved and I couldn’t return, unfortunately, after 35 years with the company. I got into a very deep state of depression — panic attacks and anxiety. At times I am not good. In 1992 my dad died, in 2012 my mam died. In 2009, I was diagnosed with prostate cancer. I was attending Beaumont. But I am being cared for now at the Mater Private. I am recovering well from my cancer, but it was a shock.

I often wonder where you are now. Did you stay in Ireland or emigrate? I know you married and have a child and I hope you are happy. I hope he’s good and caring to you as you deserve it. I have always regretted parting with you. I am glad of this opportunity from the Sunday

Independent to get my letter on paper, and it may help me with my thoughts of you. You were from Cabra and I was from what is called the Liberties now. I’d love to meet with you one day.

Declan

Dublin