Fifty years ago Ireland was wonderfully poor. Was I naive in thinking that the people were happy? Women seemed to do most of the work and certainly the men did most of the drinking. Living well was the aim of life as we drove over the uncluttered roads where every lorry was carrying bottles or barrels. And every modest village had an auction of horses going on:
The proper study of mankind, of course,
Is not technology, it is the horse.
The heroine of one of Synge's plays decides to follow the penniless hero saying only "Tis a fine piece of talk ye have. And it's with yourself I'll go."
So there they have something to start with all over again - horses and a fine piece of talk. Good luck to them.
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