Long before the Dublin Port Tunnel, the M50 or the N1/M1motorways from Dublin to Belfast were ever dreamed about, my older brothers and I, often spent our Sunday afternoons at Dublin Airport watching the planes arriving and departing.

This involved walking the four miles from our home, out through Santry and the Old Swords road to Collinstown, to the then one cream coloured crescent shaped airport building.  It is still there today, but lost & shrunken into the city of buildings that Dublin International Airport has become.

Once inside we climbed stairs to the open roof (can you imagine that happening today?). Happy as Larry with the wind in our hair, the noise of the aircraft in our ears and the fuel fumes filling our nostrils, we watched all that went on below us. An hour or two later we dandered back another four miles, rosy cheeked and hungry, to do justice to the evening meal that mammy would lay before us.

An afternoon of fun & exercise at no cost other than the wear & tear to our shoe leather.

This wonderful video is what brought the memories flooding back: