I WAS happy as Larry there the other day until I read an article about how Ireland is apparently one of the most ‘stressful’ countries in Europe. I started biting my nails just reading it. It was from a study which rated countries in terms of the prevalence of depression, of anxiety, sadness, stress, enjoyment and average weekly hours worked. And apparently, this is a very stressful place to live, the sixth most stressful in Europe, according to the clever folk who designed it. I thought we were rated the happiest country in Europe there in another survey last week. Or am I confusing this with the World’s Sexiest Accents?
It seems like every other week there is some widely reported study like this. Has anyone done a survey of the World’s Most Spurious Surveys yet, I wonder? I suppose I can see some evidence of Ireland being a stressful place. I was in France recently and after two weeks of living the good life, I did notice the increased pace and sense of manic urgency the minute I arrived back at Dublin Airport. Straight away, people seemed to be running headlong towards the taxi rank with their wheelie bags roaring along on the tarmac.
Then again, I sometimes arrive back home from holidays or work trips to the UK or the US and I notice how incredibly chill and quiet the place can be. I suppose anxiety is sometimes in the eyes of the beholder. Without casting aspersions on the good folk who carried out the survey, you’d have to wonder how useful and scientific any of these national temperature-taking exercises really are. Perhaps it does all point to a malaise with the upheaval we are facing – massive housing prices, crazy traffic, soaring food prices … I suppose it’s no wonder we’re all so stressed with all these flipping surveys telling us how stressed we are. Or could you equally say we are happy and content because of our strong sense of community, easy access to nature, a relaxed and open-minded outlook, not to mention the Tayto…
Execs in the City
IT was week two of RTÉ’s latest series Execs In The City, a drama which has the nation glued to their TVs, the staff of RTÉ fuming and politicians of all shades collectively rubbing their hands together in glee. I’m calling it The Great Distraction.
Yes, there has been plenty of criticism of the national broadcaster this week but you can’t doubt their ability to turn out the hits. Who would have thought the Committee on Tourism, Culture, Arts, Sport and Media could be made box office? Not that there aren’t some significant issues at stake. But at the same time – other things are happening in the world that may carry more importance in the big scheme of things. You know, a nation laden with nukes threatening to fall apart over the war in Ukraine (I mean Russia, not the UK), overheating oceans, the end of affirmative action in the US, riots in all the cities of France .…
Still, despite the temptation to kick the Montrose crowd while they’re down, you have to admit the politicians have been very effective and fair in the way they have comported themselves during the hearings (apart from the usual exceptions – I’m looking at you Mattie …!) It’s almost as if the system is working as it should.
Perhaps there’s a slew of new programming we might see in the autumn schedule, inspired by the events of the past week. Dancing With The Stars could be earmarked for the Top 10 earners this year. The losers would have their salaries automatically reduced to civil service salary scales. The winner could stay on the same money until next year’s competition. Maybe a special edition of the Angelus could be released which, instead of calling on us to pause and look skyward in a holy way, could instead remind us to upload all our monthly receipts.
My guilty pleasure
I FELT a strong sense of guilt tuning into the Cork v Derry game on telly last Sunday, even though I was literally a hop skip and a jump from Croke Park. The problem is I had been on a proper binge of concerts during the previous days.
First up, there was Peter Gabriel in the 3Arena on Sunday where the legend put on a show for the ages. Then I went to see The War On Drugs two nights later, probably my favourite rock band of the last decade, who put on a raucous and joyous show as part of the summer series concerts in Trinity College. And finally, the German electronic music pioneers Kraftwerk, the guys who started it all, did their thing at the same venue. It meant that by Sunday I was all out of free passes and going out for the day to watch the footballers in Croker would have been grounds for divorce.
In many ways, I suppose I dodged a bullet, given the quality of football on display, during both matches. It’s no criticism of the team or the players who put in a massive shift against a very assured and experienced Derry. It’s just the state of the game, and I was struck by how much of the spontaneity and fun seems to have been stripped out of it in recent years. The modern game usually involves one team putting up a defensive wall and 15 players behind the ball and the other team playing around in front of them, trying to break through.
I miss the freewheelin’, headless-chicken days of Gaelic football when fellas stuck to their positions because that’s what they were told to do, and went for it hell for leather after the throw-in. it was a lot more frantic and unpredictable.
Maybe it’s because I was young and still full of excitement about the sport. But there is something clinical and overbearing about the game these days – the dull coverage on TV, the hamfisted effort at rights management that is GAAGO, it’s all a bit hard to love. It’s nothing a classic final can’t fix, though, so we’ll hold onto hope for another while.
