The best and most enlightened of 19th- and early-20th-century political philosophy was based on the idea of social responsibility.
It understood that we are all on this earth together and that the greatest benefit for the greatest number can grow only out of protecting and looking out for one another.
After I went to my doctor the other day for a medical examination I started to think about these ideas again. Tony and I want to take out life insurance, and the medical was a prerequisite for cover. I knew a medical would be inevitable, as I have a pacemaker, but I was utterly unprepared for the intrusiveness of the insurance company's questions.
One asked whether my chest is well developed. Excuse me: being on the slim side means I am not particularly well endowed in that area, but what has it got to do with life insurance? The next part of the form required the doctor to examine my breasts; it was followed by questions about my reproductive organs and a requirement for a vaginal examination.
By this time I was apoplectic. My doctor declined to conduct the examinations on the grounds of their inappropriateness.
The insurance company's outrageous questions would give an unscrupulous doctor carte blanche to conduct invasive and unnecessary examinations. I also shudder at the idea of such deeply personal medical details being bandied around an insurance office by complete strangers.
The early principle of insurance cover was that everyone should pay into a collective pot. Those fortunate enough not to need help contributed to the support of the less fortunate. The development of insurance into big business has seen the corruption of those egalitarian principles to the point at which the plan seems to be to charge as much as possible for a policy while seeking every way to avoid paying out on it.
What a shame it is that Bank of Ireland's insurance underwriters and their colleagues who design the company's life-insurance application forms are nowhere near as people-friendly and helpful as the staff we've met in its branches.
The representatives of contemporary capitalism continued to plague us when a reporter from the News of the World turned up at the house. He wanted to question us about the trauma he was certain we must be suffering after the vandalism of our car. We failed miserably to provide him with any evidence of traumatised behaviour. Quite the reverse: we were demonstrably very happy.
The garden was a hive of activity. Our neighbour Kieran, who is very knowledgeable about trees, was wielding a power saw as he cut a swathe through the willows that abound on our property. Another neighbour, Peter, arrived to collect some double glazing left over from the renovation of our house. He brought us a trailer of turf.
Tony and our friend John were outside helping: for all his lounge-lizard persona, Tony has discovered since we moved to Ireland that he enjoys being outside in his wellies, doing bloke's stuff.
To complete the scene of rural bliss, a cow happened to be wandering down the road. Spotting what she must have thought was a party, she decided to come over and graze on what little grass there is in the front garden. The defeated reporter soon beat a retreat.
It was a real nuisance to have our car vandalised, but it was only a car. The silver lining is that Tony and I have been able to take from this mindless act something certainly unintended by the perpetrator.
We have always been made very welcome since we arrived in west Co Cavan, in February. Now, in the past week or so, we have had visits from many of our neighbours, who wanted to express the strength and warmth of their support.
Tony and I have had underlined, in the most warm and caring manner, something we've always understood: the people in this beautiful part of Ireland are good and decent.
We've also received e-mails and letters from all over Ireland, telling us to take no account of idiots. It may sound silly, but when our car was damaged I was simply fed up. It was the kindness shown to us that reduced me to tears. Thank you. sbooth@irish-times.ie
