Have we lost the ability to communicate?

Over the holiday period we packed up the car, and like a scene from National Lampoons, headed off - exhaust pipe dragging along the ground, to visit my wife’s parents down in West Cork, writes Richard Hogan. 

They live in a beautiful part of this island. A place where peace comes dropping slow and cattle heave the clop of broken path.

It’s a place where the din of the maddening city is forgotten and stillness envelops the undulating landscape.