Dawn of the downsizers

@wwaycorrigan

[For an audio/vlog version of this story, click here.]

'You don't know how easy you have it. In my day, life was far worse.'

This is one of the standard ripostes from older folk when they hear youngsters complaining about how bad their current situation is. While this Digital Age has its unique challenges, things were far tougher in the past, so it goes anyway.

Bigger isn't always better.

This, though, depends on how one defines what tough is.

For there are measures, open to much interpretation as such things are, that suggest that millennials from some high-income nations are set to be the first generation in modern times to be less well-off than their parents.

Personally, comparing my wealth and assets to my father's, this less-well-off interpretation seems about right.

Coming up to his 39th birthday, whilst already the father of six children and with two more yet to come, myself included, my Dad was in the process of building his own house on the land of the family farm he inherited.

For me right now, two months away from turning 39, it's highly unlikely I'd get a mortgage approved to even consider buying a dwelling. (For the record, I haven't even looked into it because I'm not sure where I would like to own property, if I want to at all that is. Also, many Irish in my age cohort who opted more for settling down rather than a life of adventure abroad appear to be on a steadier financial footing.)

Generation game

Of course, comparing generations, particularly those born in the late stages of the Technological Revolution and into our current Digital Age, is fraught with complications due to the rapid rate of change in almost all aspects of life.

The household my father was born into in 1943 was rather different from the one I came into just 42 years later.

Where in his mid-teens my Dad was England-bound for an early life of toil in construction, my main concerns at the same age were football and the secondary-school leaving certificate. And I could fret about such matters from the comfort of the family home.

'It's understandable that when more prosperous times came along, these older generations were mesmerised by the materialism that presented itself to them.'

In my early twenties, with a university education already completed, I was able to abandon my budding media career to go travelling around the world. Such opportunities were largely unheard of for somebody of my father's background.

Now, an argument can be made that the less mollycoddled youth that my father and most of his peers had to go through gave a more realistic picture of life's struggles and was thus more beneficial in the long run.

Nonetheless, what few of that generation had was a choice. I, on the other hand, had various options open to me. In most instances, that's a positive (there are times, though, when I think it would be better not to have too many options).

Material world

So, when those born in the 1940s, 50s, 60s and even 70s say that they had it tougher growing up than those of us who came later, this is hard to argue against from a technology and access-to-resources perspective.

Seen in such a light, it's understandable that when more prosperous times came along, these older generations were mesmerised by the materialism that presented itself to them.

In Ireland, we saw this to an extreme extent during the Celtic Tiger years, something I touched on in a 2012 blog story titled, On the road again, naturally.

Some in the country went from what was little more than subsistence living to a life where they couldn't spend money fast enough — borrowed at cheap rates as much of it was.

'More, more, more' and 'bigger is better' were the mantras. And many got quite comfortable with their new comforts.

When the faecal matter hit the ventilator of Ireland's Celtic Tiger boom, some realised the error of their ways. Well, it was more a case that the financial reality was laid bare.

Yet, letting go of the lavishness hasn't been easy. And from my observations, it's the older generations who are more reluctant to do away with rather unnecessary home comforts and associated excessive waste. (Although, hypocrites abound across the generations when it comes to calls to 'reduce, reuse and recycle'.)

The heat is on

To be clear, I'm not calling for a return to something resembling a caveman existence. What I am saying is that many in the comfortable classes could downsize in a host of areas and not really suffer from it.

In fact, doing without certain mod cons might actually improve our quality of life and reduce our carbon footprints.

For example — referring to Ireland and similar countries here — rather than crank up the heating in winter time, there is evidence that suggests having a naturally cooler house may have health benefits. So, where possible, stay warm by being active rather than relying on home heating.

Do note, it's usually easier and more cost-effective to keep warm in a smaller dwelling, too. Does one really need that five-bedroom dormer?

I've let it be known many times before — see my previous story Me, myself and I, for one — that some people could do without cars, that they have them more for convenience than necessity.

Now, I hasten to add that I have previously acknowledged that going without a car is easier to do in cities or areas with reliable and extensive public transport as well as decent infrastructure for pedestrians and cyclists. Much of rural Ireland fails badly in this regard.

I am well aware, too, that such adjustments require a societal mindset change, together with the provision of the means to make adaptation easier to achieve.

Ever-evolving, more efficient technology is helping us to still enjoy certain comforts, to still be as productive, without being an excessive strain on the planet's finite resources and the natural environment.

My peers and I can be the generation that downsizes in a way that is beneficial both to ourselves and the world at large.

This is the dawn of the downsizers.
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Listen to The Corrigan Cast podcast here.

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Bogotá's perpetual Corner Bar barrio

@wwaycorrigan

[Listen to an audio version of this blog entry here.]

At the zenith of Ireland's Celtic Tiger period in the early noughties, a time when most of the populace had, quite literally, more money than sense, there was a public house in my local town that nicely symbolised the then zeitgeist. Or perhaps not-so-nicely for the few ascetics around.

A day in the life: There's a "nice" familiarity to many aspects of Bogotá's Santandercito barrio.

No quiet corner

The Corner Bar, Ballaghaderreen, located next to what was a busy bottleneck junction on the main Dublin-Westport road before the town was bypassed, was in many ways a representation of the Wild West for the early 21st century.

Word had it that this pub sold the most 500-ml cans of Bulmers cider, aka looney juice, in Ireland. That may have been an urban legend but my own blurry memories of the place back it up. For the record, Bulmers wasn't my tipple of choice — I was a little classier, of course.

While it attracted all-comers, it was a particular favourite with construction workers. The Celtic Tiger's flimsy foundations were laid down by boisterous builders after all, heavily reinforced by cheap money from Europe and sod-turning, market-is-king politicians at home. Thus, Ireland and her mother were involved in construction in some form or another. In a town such as Ballaghaderreen and its hinterland, this was very apparent.

The Corner Bar was the go-to place to let off some steam, shoot some pool and throw some drunken shapes after a tough four-and-a-half-day week on-site — Mondays were generally optional, particularly in the summer months.

'Alcohol-induced rows are fairly commonplace and at least one working Monday a month is spent on the cure from the previous days' excesses.'

That this establishment is no longer a going concern today is in many ways fitting. It could be said that Ireland Inc., the West especially, is still suffering a hangover from those heady, hedonistic times.

Bygone days for a now bypassed, barely beating Ballaghaderreen.

However, that spirit of The Corner Bar, a far less expensive version that is, is to be found, for better or for worse — health-wise, it's normally the latter — in my current stomping ground of Santandercito in the far north of Bogotá. It's not one particular place but the barrio as a whole really.

Familiar feeling

For starters, most of the people I socialise with there are construction workers who certainly know how to play and party hard. Alcohol-induced rows are fairly commonplace and at least one working Monday a month is spent on the cure from the previous days' excesses.

In place of pool tables and dartboards, there's bolirana, a game where you accumulate points by throwing six small metal balls into holes of varying value on a gently slanting rectangular surface a few metres away — the first to reach an agreed-upon number of points wins.

The overall ambience, the good-natured banter that can turn ugly at the drop of a bottle, it's all familiar, even comforting to me. We're not quite talking about dens of debauchery or iniquity, but there's a certain roughness to proceedings.

One might ask have I not grown tired of the scene by now? For sure, on the odd manic Monday one may question what's it all about. But by the time the weekend rolls around again, one is drawn back in.

That I'm single and childless plays a part in my regular revelling — although at a far lower intensity compared to the real hedonists in Santandercito I hasten to add. In fact, the number of partying parents in these parts leads one to surmise that having offspring doesn't necessarily result in a tamer social life.

Having not left the greater environs of Bogotá for the last 18 months and without full-time employment, The Corner Bar lifestyle has been a relatively cheap escape from the current mundaneness. Of course, it in itself has become a routine — and not a terribly wholesome one — but it nearly always throws up a memorable, if hazy, moment or two.

While the Celtic Tiger and The Corner Bar have disappeared, with both now remembered with an amount of shame, Santandercito's star doesn't look like waning any time soon.

Of course, today's characters won't be around forever, yet the cheap and mostly vivacious vibe appears perpetual in nature. Let's raise a litre of Poker beer to that.
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Listen to Wrong Way's Colombia Cast podcast here.

Facebook: Wrong Way Corrigan — The Blog & IQuiz "The Bogotá Pub Quiz".

Christmas, the one thing that arrives early in Colombia

@wwaycorrigan

[Listen to an audio version of this blog entry here.]

Back in my largely innocent childhood days one of the most depressing times was when Christmas came to an end. In fact, the painful comedown started to kick in shortly after 25 December.

Decking out the place for Christmas ... in October.

Everything was building up to the giddy excitement of early on Christmas morning, discovering all the goodies Santa had delivered — they were never in doubt, seeing how I was such a little angel all year.

Quick-fire Christmas

So, while the afterglow lasted for a period, the sad realisation that I'd have to wait another year for Mr Claus' arrival didn't take long to set in. Within a couple of days, the spectre of a return to school and 'normal' times began to play on my mind.

Now, I do recall the official — that is to say, putting up the decorations — Corrigan run-in to Christmas being fairly short. 

Amongst my village friends, our household would invariably be one of the last to be decked out. It wasn't unusual for some frantic decorating to still be happening on the 24th. 'Time enough for it', was the thinking, I guess. I'm pretty sure if it was left to my father, decorations wouldn't go up at all.

At the height of the Celtic Tiger years as Ireland embraced US-style flashiness, or superficiality you might say, and as I moved on from Santa, it pretty much became unacceptable for any respected family not to have their house 'Christmas ready' by mid-December. (At about the same time, again mimicking our Yankee cousins, Halloween decorations appeared to have become mandatory in many households.)

That being so, for what I assume is the majority of Irish people, rolling out the Christmas decorations before December is still a no-no. Five weeks of Christmas is enough, almost one-tenth of the year as it is. The fact that most radio stations hold off on playing festive tunes until at least 01 December is a sign of that.

'As a sufferer of depression, I can't help but think of her state of mind when she has to take down all these Christmas decorations, in mid-January at the earliest as it most likely will be.'

For a fair number of Colombian families, in contrast, the Yuletide yearning tends to show itself in earnest in October. While some might follow the 'let's at least get Halloween out of the way first' mantra — do note, the 'night of the dead' is a lively affair here — others have their sights set on Christmas.

Radio stations are complicit. The end-of-year hits are being banged out as soon as September ends.

In my current house share, the landlady is very much in this bring-on-Christmas brigade. For the last week, she's been, slowly but surely, kitting out the place. By the looks of things, not one inch of the house, the ground floor anyway, will be free from a festive covering.

Emotional moment

It doesn't bother me, as long as I don't have to do any of the decorating. I'm kind of indifferent to Christmas at this stage.

I do, however, slightly worry for the landlady herself. As somebody who appears to suffer from depression, I can't help but think of her state of mind when she has to take down all these decorations, in mid-January at the earliest as it most likely will be.

Of course, we all have downers after highs, it's natural. 'What goes up' and all that.

Yet, the lady of my current 'manor', considering her condition, seems to be putting herself through an unnecessary emotional high. I just hope she can manage the inevitable comedown when it's all over, when everything from the Santa dolls to the glittery balls has to be packed away.

You might say I'm being a bit of a curmudgeon, a Grinch even. I beg to differ. I like a party as much as the next person.

It's just that experience has taught me to try to not get too lost in the moment when surfing the high waves. That way, you'll generally be in a better position to manage the crash when it envelops you, you'll be able to avoid being drowned by emotions.

That's the theory, anyway. As ever, executing it in practice is usually much more difficult. At least we've covid-19 to keep us all in check this year.
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Listen to Wrong Way's Colombia Cast podcast here.

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Colombia's not-so-magical realism

Back in the heady days of the Republic of Ireland's "glorious" run at Italia '90 — fair enough, the team reached the last eight but did so without winning a single game in 90 minutes — it practically amounted to treason to question the side's approach or not to be fully supportive of the boys in green.

Relax, la Selección is winning, everything's fine! (Image from fcf.com.co.)

The one pundit who did go against the national zeitgeist, Eamon Dunphy, was temporarily banished from his role with the state broadcaster RTÉ. He dared to criticise the Irish performance after a drab 0-0 draw with Egypt.

He wasn't really wrong with what he said but the country didn’t want to hear such harsh truths in the flood of bonhomie and giddy excitement that a first-ever World Cup appearance swept in.

Don't rock the boat, baby!

This was pre-Celtic Tiger Ireland. Much poorer and, it could be said, more innocent times. The nation badly needed a pick-me-up and Jack Charlton's heroes delivered that (some people have even attributed it to playing an important part in the economic boom that was to follow). Clear-headed, unbiased analysis wasn't wanted.

Nowadays, however, it's pretty much a national pastime to be critical of the Republic of Ireland soccer team. It could even be said that some of it is over the top.

Nonetheless, as a nation matures, its people, in most cases, are better equipped to carry out some introspection, as difficult as it may be.

Looking at Colombia from a self-governing perspective, it is older than the Republic of Ireland. Yet, in many aspects, it hasn't quite mastered the art of self-criticism.

This can be seen clearly enough in the soccer (or football, if you will) world, for the beloved Selección.

Now, I've never really believed in the impartial reporter malarkey, especially when it comes to sports commentary, but you'd like to think that such professionals could at least try to bring a semblance of balance to proceedings. Not here in Colombia.

The lads and lassies commentating and analysing on Colombian games see things solely through yellow-coloured (or blue or red when the side is playing in its alternative strip) glasses. Their heavily biased approach only adds further fuel to the fire of an already highly strung watching public. Win, lose or draw, all sense of realism is lost.

"It was the euphoria that led me to stab you. Que pena!"

Take the opening, and fully merited, Copa América win over Argentina. Yes, the Argies have a number of individuals of truly world-class standard. Yet, the reality is, the collective has been much less than the sum of its parts for a couple of years now.

Their form of late against fellow South American teams, for one, has been patchy to say the least. That should be factored into any proper analysis of Colombia's victory. However, on the whole here, it's not.

This isn't to say that it was a "nothing win" for Colombia, not at all. You can make a case for them to go far. Colombia's performance was as solid as what we've seen thus far. But let's just take it game by game for now, keep things in perspective.

Going backwards, at speed

Of course, a country losing the run of itself over football "success" is harmless really, save for the odd violent incident that happens post-match. ("Oops, it was the euphoria that led me to stab you. ¡Que pena!").

In politics and the general running of the country, on the other hand, overlooking facts, ignoring certain obvious signs that things may not be as you're saying they are, that's a recipe for disaster. 

For more balanced commentators on Colombia, there's a feeling that the country's on the slide (two years ago, in Colombia's comedown?, I touched on some of these challenges).

The right-leaning president, Iván Duque, not quite a year in the post, hasn't done much to steady the ship. On the contrary, for many observers, things are in reverse.

There is a theory that keeping the country on the precipice suits certain powerful interests. One wouldn't want to unlock Colombia's great potential for the masses or those of a different ilk. A jobs-for-the-boys kind of approach. Considering this land's history, you'd have to say there might be something to that.

But hey, as long as La Selección keeps on winning, everything's wonderful, isn’t it?
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Facebook: Wrong Way Corrigan – The Blog & IQuiz “The Bogotá Pub Quiz”.
Listen to The Colombia Cast podcast here. 

Colombia: Here come the good times?

So the World Cup party rolls on and, thankfully, Colombia is very much still in the mix. These heady times that the country is going through, something mentioned on this blog a few weeks back, are not only continuing but also appear to be increasing in magnitude.

Colombia, World Cup champions? Why not?

Of course, having got to the last eight, should La Selección now fail to go further, the excitement and gushing pride and joy being experienced across the land will take a significant dent.

However, wherever the team finishes – here's hoping that's lifting the trophy – Colombians both near and far should, and no doubt will, be immensely proud of the efforts. They ought to be, especially so considering the lads went to Brazil minus their talisman Radamel Falcao, a loss that certainly dampened expectations ahead of the tournament.

In a number of ways, looking at events both on and off the field, this World Cup represents for Colombia what the World Cups of both 1990 and 1994 did for my homeland, the Republic of Ireland.

Granted, unlike the Republic in 1990, this is not Colombia's debut, but the country was a much different place back in the '90s when they last qualified. 

This time, like Ireland in the early '90s, there's a feeling that a bright new dawn is about to break. The football team could be seen not only as a manifestation of that, but also as an important part of it.

For one, José Pékerman's side is, with merit, filling Colombians with an enormous amount of pride and a sense that they are finally being talked about seriously, in a positive manner, on the world stage. (Incidentally, Pékerman is an 'outsider', an Argentinian, who is now very much seen as Colombian – à la the Englishman Jack Charlton who managed Ireland in '90 and '94.)

Then you have the enormous support the team is getting at the tournament, mirrored by the outpouring of emotion following each victory back home. Colombians, as the Irish did for Italia '90 and USA '94, have made their way in droves to Brazil, getting there by any means necessary, sourcing money however they can. Some would even sell their grannies.

Heck, in a further similarity, for two peoples who like to have a beer or two, Dublin's barmen went on strike for Ireland's opener in '94, the victory over Italy, forcing inhabitants of the capital to booze up at home. 

Here in Bogotá, we have to put up with ley seca (alcohol prohibition) for each game – it hasn't stopped the drinking or revelling though. Let's just hope La Selección doesn't suffer the same fate that befell the Republic in 1990 and lose to the hosts in the last eight.

This is all happening alongside a more general mood of optimism that seems to be sweeping over Colombia. There are green, or yellow if you like, shoots emerging signalling much better times ahead – economically, politically and socially. 

For sure, not everyone is sharing in that positivity and there are solid reasons for that, but there is a scent of peace in the air, that a solution to the more than 50 years of internal conflict can be found.

President Santos: Leading Colombia to a bright new dawn? (Photo: Facebook.)

Linked to this, in a financial and social context, things are improving for many Colombians – although, tackling the huge inequality that still exists must be one of the chief priorities for re-elected president Juan Manuel Santos.

This is all quite similar to the Republic of Ireland in the early '90s, just before the Celtic Tiger started to roar (remember that?) and politics largely took over from the gun in the Northern Ireland conflict. The island of Ireland was about to experience the good times for a change. Yes, they didn't last, but you can argue it was better to have them than not.

Thus, for what it's worth, the advice for Colombia right now from an Irish perspective, both at the World Cup and in general, is carpe diem.

In football terms, you're doing that pretty good so far. The other things might prove much trickier.
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For more Colombia-Ireland 'links', check out Colombia & Ireland – a tale of two old Catholic countries.

Reeling in the Years: 1994 gives a nice snapshot of Ireland entering the 'good times'.

Pimp my isle

We Irish have been, and are, called many things but ostentatious can never really be one of them. In comparison to our brethren across the pond (the bigger pond that is), we tend to be quite a reserved bunch; then again, who isn’t when viewed in such a light?

Halloween — less substance, more shabby style?

Even at the height of the Celtic Tiger when many people had more (borrowed) money than sense, we never really became too brash or cocky. 

Sure we may have built to excess but we tended to stick to the ‘less talk, more action’ mantra. Things were ‘grand’ (in Ireland that means an ordinary 'fine'); you’d be hard-pressed to find anyone use that flamboyant, quintessentially North American word ‘awesome’.

Perhaps much of this was due to the fact that deep down, even if we didn’t outwardly acknowledge it, we knew our newfound (borrowed) wealth wouldn’t last.

So now that the arse has well and truly fallen out of our ‘mighty little’ economic miracle, you would think being showy is the last thing on our minds – considering, that is, that we traditionally don’t do it, it just doesn’t sit well with us at all. Rather than things being awesome, they’re just awkward.

Yet, as the dust settles on our gluttonous years, one obvious legacy, very much in evidence over the Halloween period, is the desire for young families to pimp up their homes for various events and festivities. 

OK, one might have expected a scaling up in this regard when the country was awash with (borrowed – get it?) money, but there appears to be no sign of scaling back now that we’ve returned to our ‘normal’ financial state (hard-pressed that is).

Christmas decorating predates the boom years and it’s not something we’ve too many misgivings about, although its arrival seems to get earlier and earlier each year with an accompanying increase in the lavishness of these Yuletide manifestations.

It’s the relatively recent uptake of Halloween folderol that has us scratching our heads. 

We’ve always recognised the day, of course – in fact, it’s an Irish festival, its roots going back to pagan times on the island. But the odd costume and trick-or-treater aside, we were never too bothered about jazzing up our houses and streets with a host of Halloween paraphernalia – we left that to the Yanks, in much the same way we ‘let’ them outdo us with the St Patrick’s Day celebrations.

That all seems to have changed now. Decorations are a prerequisite these days – fake spiders’ webs are hung up (while at the same time frantically sweeping away real ones), figures of witches and skeletons put on display and pumpkins are ‘planted’ in every corner of the house.

Decommissioned. 

Now, there’s nothing inherently wrong with such practices – you could argue that they bring some lesser-spotted cheer to surroundings in these hard-pressed, almost gloomy times (the current state of play being far spookier than any contrived Halloween scare). 

However, when you’re preaching poverty to strait-laced neighbours who happen to be paying your way, being a bit flashy doesn’t send out the right signals, does it? 

It’s a bit like the struggling parents, who apparently never have money for anything, hiring a private photographer when it comes to their little Johnny’s or Mary’s Communion Day. Well come on, they couldn’t be expected to share the one laid on for the group or, whisper it, take their own amateur photos on such a momentous day.

Back to Halloween, how about returning to some of our more, um, traditional, simpler customs? 

The innocent days of kicking some old man’s hard-saved cabbage, launching fireworks and mild explosives at legitimate targets and subsequently getting chased by An Garda Síochána (the Irish police) appear lost in the past. Solid substance has been replaced by shallow style.

Come on guys, you know this showiness doesn’t suit us. It’s not always best practice to slavishly follow Mr and Mrs Jones.

On the road again, naturally

Ireland’s been on our minds here recently. Not in a fond way, but in that typical lamentable style that as a tribe we seem to have perfected. 

Distance and personal distractions had kept the homeland’s myriad of problems more or less out of our immediate thoughts. That changed though after a Skype chat with an old friend – another of the many Irish abroad – who informed us of an excellent article, Off to New York with the iPaddies on the Irish Times' ‘Generation Emigration’ blog. 

'Taking flight' - The Irish on the move en masse once more.

Cutting the Celtic Tiger's claws

Of course, the picture painted in that particular piece isn’t something that will shock many Irish people – considering what’s happened in the last few years, we’re pretty much shock-proof these days. 

What is worrying, though, particularly for us, the younger generation, is the way that people who experienced the pre-Celtic Tiger lean years, see the current situation as much, much worse. 

When you look at the context, however, the widely accepted fact that things will be as bad as ever for the Free State is pretty logical really. 

Before we look at that context, it must be said that politicians and others who were quick to take credit for our economic expansion cannot simply shun culpability for their part in aiding our dramatic collapse. In any case, their role in both events was superficial.

In simplified summation, the Republic’s ‘rise’ was an inevitable consequence of its largely unavoidable decision to open its doors to the free market. Had the state not done so, we risked becoming the Western equivalent of North Korea. 

So after years of economic isolation, we went from a subsistence existence to a country that could, relatively speaking, compete on the world stage. And we were, up until the late 1990s, an attractive place to do business for money-spinning multinationals. 

Wage demands were relatively low compared to other Western countries. We had agreeable tax rates and a laissez-faire political attitude to big business. 

Coupled with this, the availability of cheap money (at the time) from our European neighbours – a result of our decision to join the EU and later the European Monetary Union – meant we could push ahead with much-needed infrastructural development which thus provided massive employment in the construction sector, a natural phase for an emerging country to go through. 

Inevitably, though, with so much money flying about the country, everybody wanted a greater slice of the cake. So wage and welfare demands increased and we gradually became a less attractive place for outsiders to do business in.

Now, if you happen to be a country with vast natural resources that can survive without huge outside investment in a free-market world, then that’s fine. But we’re not. 

Thus, by becoming a more expensive place to do business, our clients looked elsewhere. And with the massive technological advancement in the last thirty years, the strategic importance that we once had as a ‘smart economy’, English-speaking nation on the threshold of the European market for US and other multinational companies became less relevant. 

Throw into the mix a global recession and the result is what we have today. All unavoidable really.

So what can be done? 

Well, as much as our ‘esteemed’ leaders try to tell us differently, emigration is one solution. It was said, apparently, that in the 1980s Ireland could only sustain one-in-every-two people born on the island. So if things are far worse now than compared to 30 years ago, as most say they are, then the current rapid flow of emigration must continue.

That aside, there are obviously still cosy jobs for some people in Ireland. It’s not all doom and gloom for a number who stay put. 

However, as a country where emigration is in our blood, many compatriots through the ages who had any ‘get up and go’ did just that and left. And for plenty of these, they realised potential in another land that they perhaps never would have if they had remained at home. 

While many Irish may be 'struggling', it's all relative.

On a slightly less serious note, alongside the suggestions we had in ‘South American Solutions to Irish Problems', another in the same category was given to us by a good friend. 

His ‘solution’ is to give those who remain in the state about one million euros to leave and when they have, plant the whole country. A cheaper option, he reckons, than trying to pay back our debts. And a ‘greener’ one at that. 

One thing worth remembering, though, is this. No matter how bad we think things are, there are people in other parts of the world who have it far worse. These are people who, if they manage to wake up in the morning, are not sure if they will survive the day. 

For the majority of Irish people, struggling as we may be, such a life-or-death scenario is something we don’t have to face.