The economy is booming, we are told at various times. What does that mean, when so many sackings are going on in industry - slimming down, it is politely called, or rationalising, in banks and so on. And when people are still leaving the land, to settle in Dublin or emigrate. Our biggest industry may yet be in tourism. Already, our propaganda stresses the empty beaches, the lovely unpopulated mountain areas. Maybe some people can maker sense of it all.
A travel writer, Eric Newby, wheeled his way around a few years ago, accompanied by his wife. Here they are in Clare. They stop to speak to a local.
He was a small man of about fifty, who was working in a plot beside the road. He had a large head, abundant flaxen hair with a touch of red in it, of the kind that always looks as if it has just been combed, a high forehead and very clear blue eyes like T. E. Lawrence. And he had a voice of indescribable sadness, like the wind keening about a house. After exchanging remarks about the grandness of the day, I asked him about the absence of people.
"Ah," he said, "there are more than meet the eye, but most of them are old, and are by their fires, out of the wind. You can see the smoke of them."
"But what about the school? It's quite new. There must be some children," Wanda said.
"There are children," he said, "but when these children leave the school, their parents will leave and the school will be closed. They are the last ones."
"But what will happen to their houses? Surely they won't be allowed to fall into ruin?" "The old ones, will be allowed to fall into ruin. The newer ones will be holiday houses. Many of them are already."
"And what will you do yourself when the old people are dead, and the children and the younger people have all gone away?" "I will give an eye to the holiday houses" he said.
From A Merry Dance Around the World, The Best of Eric Newby, Harper/Collins 1995.