Mid morning, the main street is gridlocked for several minutes. An articulated truck, a double-deck bus, an empty airport bus and a refuse wagon vie for space. An octogenarian woman in a maroon, crocheted beret and blue anorak, leans on her walking stick as if dazed by the sudden arrival of police and the military toting automatic weapons. Helmeted soldiers clamber out of a jeep to take up strategic points of the street while Brinks delivers its load of paper cash and coin. The Angelus bell tolls midday. Thirty minutes later cafes begin to buzz. After lunch hammer blows ring. Buzz saws whine. Metal teeth grind into granite. Dust wafts around and spirals. Work on the narrowing of the artery outside the train station continues.
The questions will not go away. Are they building a bottleneck to throttle the main street?
