Michael Kellydoes without . . . news
I am an information addict. I listen to six or seven radio news bulletins during the day and then, depending on what's going on, might try to catch The Last Word, on Today FM, in the evening. I usually watch the news on RTÉ1 at 6pm and 9pm, as you never know whether some great world event will have occurred during the two hours of communications blackout that comes between them. Then there's the newspaper that I devour each day, not to mention the internet and its news feeds.
Given the bad stuff that goes on around us all the time, it's a wonder that we news junkies can ever manage a smile (I find that a fine antidote is to watch the odd edition of Nationwide, for a fix of good news). So, to get my house in order for the season of goodwill, I decide to initiate a complete news blackout.
After a few days' abstinence I am surprised to discover that it's not the news that I miss. It's the absence of the daily rituals that hurts most. I was lost without my Irish Times, particularly the crosswords, letters to the Editor and An Irishman's Diary. The ritual of buying it was missing, too. I had a lecturer once who rambled on about the "sensual feel" of a newspaper against your hands. We would laugh at her fetish, but I can almost understand it now.
As I stood on the train one morning, surrounded by sullen commuters, I found myself looking over their shoulders to sneak glances at their papers. I could pick up bits of stories, but as I have been off news for close to a week the little snippets didn't mean much in isolation. In the car I have to keep switching off the radio to avoid news (and of course I have to avoid Morning Irelandaltogether). You discover very quickly that when you take away the news cycle, morning radio is just noise: phone-in competitions, ads, inanities and traffic reports.
I gave up TV earlier this year, for Lent, but I feel far more out of touch this time. Mrs Kelly tries to strike up a conversation in the evenings about something interesting that happened that day. I just stare blankly back. It feels as if I am missing a limb. I find myself fantasising about watching Questions and Answers with a stack of newspapers on my lap and a radio on the table beside me. I want my news back.