As we age, we aspire to the simple life. Those pleasures that have always been in reach, yet out of touch, become a semi epitaph of a life well lived: Of sitting in silence, reading a book, forest bathing, or even a walk to the local shop to purchase some essentials that aren’t pandering to some pan seared culinary craze: these are but basic pleasures.

I spend most of my downtime at present moaning. Despite being told how lucky we are as a first world country, I look around and see nothing but third world desperation as we wring our hands and repeat mantras such as ‘well, it could be worse’ or ‘if given the choice of your own problems or those of the next man, you’d choose your own’.

We are always being told that if improvements are not made we will reach a tipping point, be it with crime, the NHS or any other societal mainstay, yet the truth is we have reached that point of no return a long time ago, as we sit here now, in denial, for yet another year.

Now I am not the world's best travelled man, but going abroad and sampling other cultures is not unheard of and, having returned from Ireland recently (again, not my first emerald rodeo) I could see the differences in stark contrast.

It comes down to simplicity and not over engineering things, as we are want to do here in England. When things then go wrong here, as they inevitably do, to save face or the admittance of wrong doing, we instead tie ourselves up in such a muddle, that there is no escape.

In rural Ireland most drive well maintained bangers with scratches and scars from prangs with farmers' fences or parked tractors, yet there are no potholes. In lieu of few speed cameras, folk drive confidently but not recklessly. Parking is as it should be, and not used as a cash cow, allowing small independent shops, if not to thrive, the opportunity to survive, as locals can park at the door. The yellow grids on the road are not used to punish those who dare enter them, but as a suggestion that it's not a bright idea to stop there. Shops have those rare creatures known as ‘checkout staff’, who stop and say ‘top of the morning to you’ as they seemingly have no targets to achieve or quotas to fill. Visitors actually visit, and stop, as there is no rush, and within a few short minutes you are conversing about football or religion and, despite numerous disagreements, all parties listen intently and agree to disagree, with a smile, before another cuppa is boiled and meandering conversation continues.

Breakfast is not delivered by M&S, but involves a groggy walk to the local shop to frequent half a dozen freshly laid eggs, some back bacon and a home baked loaf. Doors are kept unlocked and locals pride themselves on an open door policy where, should labour be sought, the first port of call is the man up yonder’s cousin who lives locally, is fairly priced and has a couple of kids to support.

Yes, that’s the answer: The Irish ‘keep it simple’. Need a doctor, then go and see one face to face, the same with dentists. The police are well respected as they give a little grace and use common sense and are highly unlikely to be seen driving around County Meath in an Instagramable rainbow coloured car in a desperate attempt to appeal to all stakeholders. They wear the first thing they drag on in the morning, and labels count for nothing as it’s the content of a man’s character that is admired, and their ability to stand up and be counted and get stuck in. We, on the other hand, seem hell bent on finding an ism on which to blame the latest catastrophe as our lot couldn’t possibly be of our own making, could it?

There's a lot to be said for being Irish. The simplicity of life, the leeway afforded and the acceptance of opinion are all attributes we advocate, but which we have got badly, badly wrong. Alas, unless we rip up the manual and start again, we will become even more marooned from such an existence which, thanks to its simplicity, is something we really ought to aspire to…

  • Brett Ellis is a teacher