In a Word . . . Social

Physical distancing has not proven such a trial for us Irish. Just don’t try to ban speech


We are not a people given to social isolation, or to standing six feet/2m away from one another. Not that we take easily to the cosmopolitan hug or the mortifying continental kiss on each cheek even before saying hello.

We’re not really a touchy-feely people. Apart, that is, from those rare occasions. Such as when we get drunk and reveal our shy souls, leading to confirmation of the old adage, “Get drunk with an Irish person and you are stuck with them for life.”

Or when our club/team wins a championship after several decades in loneliest wilderness. Then even same-sex boundaries can disappear as dourest male homophobes become so exercised they too have been known to reach out to the nearest man-companion-in-victory.

But even if we are not as touchy-feely in our social . . . er . . . intercourse as continental neighbours, we do excel them when it comes to verbal interaction. We are a loquacious people and love to talk – even while shouting across a six foot/2m gap – which is why this recent experience of social distancing has not proven such a trial for us Irishry. It would be so much different were it accompanied by a ban on speech.

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Possibly this is because most of us come from smaller communities where familiarity is central to our lives. Such familiarity may breed contempt elsewhere, but not with us. In our case, it breeds curiosity.

It meant that growing up in Ballaghaderreen I knew everyone there. More importantly, I also knew their dogs. It didn’t always work to my advantage. Our dog Ranger once got into a fight with Flynn’s bulldog, whose name is not worthy of mention. Ranger was coming out worst, so I went to his rescue. Very foolish.

The bulldog bit through my arm and I roared. It was worth it. I was a hero to my peers, and for not crying when the doctor gave me a tetanus injection. I had a similar experience with Caulfield’s dog – who shall also be nameless.

He bit me in the backside. This hadn’t the same cachet, with no rescue element involved, and I couldn’t – for shame – show off the injury or where the doctor gave me the injection.

I had reason to know the names of the dogs of Ballaghaderreen.

Social, from Latin socialis, meaning "of companionship".

inaword@irishtimes.com