{"id":1585,"date":"2026-06-12T17:00:00","date_gmt":"2026-06-12T16:00:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.farmersforum.ie\/trends\/?p=1585"},"modified":"2026-06-11T17:37:17","modified_gmt":"2026-06-11T16:37:17","slug":"they-swapped-dublin-for-this-quiet-monaghan-village-and-have-not-looked-back-once-this-summer","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.farmersforum.ie\/trends\/they-swapped-dublin-for-this-quiet-monaghan-village-and-have-not-looked-back-once-this-summer\/","title":{"rendered":"They swapped Dublin for this quiet Monaghan village and have not looked back once this summer"},"content":{"rendered":"

They left the city<\/strong> on a wet May evening with a boot full of plants and an old bicycle<\/strong>, following a hunch that quiet might be the best soundtrack to a long Irish summer. In County Monaghan<\/strong>, just past a field of buttercups and a lane lined with hawthorn, they found a village where the clock seemed to breathe<\/strong>. They unpacked slowly, made tea, and listened to the church bell strike seven<\/strong>.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Why leave when the days are longest<\/h2>\n

<\/p>\n

Dublin was never the problem<\/strong>. It was the pace, the thrum, the constant scroll<\/strong> of options. \u201cWe wanted to press pause without leaving Ireland<\/strong>,\u201d Mark said, setting a jar of wildflowers on the windowsill<\/strong>. \u201cWe weren\u2019t fleeing; we were curious<\/strong>.\u201d<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

The village\u2014Glaslough\u2014had been a whisper<\/strong> between friends for years: woodland walks, a lake with a mirror-sheen surface<\/strong>, neighbours who still knew each other\u2019s dogs<\/strong>. \u201cIt sounded like a place where summer still felt local<\/strong>,\u201d Aoife added, her sandals drying by the back door<\/strong>.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

First impressions come on foot<\/h2>\n

<\/p>\n

They walked on the first morning<\/strong>, past low stone walls, ivy-tucked gateways<\/strong>, and a bakery window fogged with the breath of fresh<\/strong> bread. The air carried a thread of honeysuckle<\/strong>, a tractor\u2019s purl, and a distant call from the pitch<\/strong>. \u201cIt\u2019s the kind of silence that isn\u2019t silent at all<\/strong>,\u201d Mark laughed. \u201cIt\u2019s layered with small, living sounds<\/strong>.\u201d<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

They met a neighbour who insisted they take a bag of rhubarb<\/strong> \u201cor it will bolt,\u201d and a teenager on a scooter who stopped to pet their terrier<\/strong>. \u201cMonaghan hospitality is incredibly unforced<\/strong>,\u201d Aoife said. \u201cPeople ask where you\u2019re from and then ask if you need a ladder<\/strong>.\u201d<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Work still happens, just differently<\/h2>\n

<\/p>\n

The apartment they rented has a deep windowsill<\/strong> that became a desk, plus a view of maple leaves and the post<\/strong> office. Broadband held steady through video calls<\/strong>, and the village caf\u00e9 accepted laptop nomads with unfussy grace<\/strong>. \u201cBy four o\u2019clock the light slants across the screen<\/strong>, and you realise you\u2019ve done the day\u2019s work<\/strong> without your heart racing,\u201d Mark admitted<\/strong>.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Commuting to Dublin twice a month became a ritual<\/strong>: an early bus, a packed lunch, a playlist<\/strong> that began and ended with birdsong recorded on the village green<\/strong>. \u201cYou notice you speak more slowly in the meetings<\/strong>,\u201d Aoife said. \u201cAnd you listen more deeply<\/strong>.\u201d<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

The price of time feels different<\/h2>\n

<\/p>\n

Rent was lower, but the big savings were in the margins<\/strong>. Evenings didn\u2019t disappear to queues<\/strong> or traffic; instead they stretched toward the lake<\/strong> for a swim, or to the shop for strawberries that tasted like actual sun<\/strong>. \u201cWe\u2019re spending less and getting more hours<\/strong> back,\u201d Mark said. \u201cIt\u2019s a very satisfying trade<\/strong>.\u201d<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Eating became an occasion<\/strong> rather than a reaction. A neighbour\u2019s eggs, a farm gate honesty box, a picnic under a beech<\/strong> tree where the dog napped like a retired poet<\/strong>.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

A community of small, steady gestures<\/h2>\n

<\/p>\n

They found the GAA pitch on a Tuesday<\/strong>, the library on a Thursday<\/strong>, and the Tidy Towns crew at a verge with hi-vis<\/strong> vests and great stories<\/strong>. \u201cJoining in takes exactly one hello<\/strong>,\u201d Aoife smiled. \u201cStay five minutes and someone hands you a brush<\/strong>.\u201d<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

A Saturday market appeared like a folding theatre<\/strong>, with chutneys, slate coasters, and a woman selling candles that smelled like June rain<\/strong>. \u201cYou buy something and end up with a recipe and a tale about a cousin in Clones<\/strong>,\u201d Mark said, half-delighted, half-astonished, fully won<\/strong>.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Nervous systems recalibrated<\/h2>\n

<\/p>\n

Mornings began with crows clasping the skyline<\/strong> and ended with bats stitching the dusk like quick black commas<\/strong>. Their dog learned the geometry of lanes<\/strong>; they learned the weather\u2019s mood by the feel of the kitchen tiles<\/strong>. \u201cWe\u2019re sleeping deeper,\u201d Aoife said. \u201cAnd waking with less alarm<\/strong>.\u201d<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

They noticed how conversation unspooled in porches<\/strong>, how news moved on foot, how the day had edges<\/strong> again. \u201cIn the city, time smudged; here it articulates<\/strong>,\u201d Mark said, tapping the table with a measured contentment<\/strong>.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

What surprised them most<\/h2>\n

<\/p>\n

    <\/p>\n
  • The village calendar is quietly full<\/strong>: concerts in halls, swims at dusk, pop-up poetry<\/strong>.<\/li>\n

    <\/p>\n

  • Nature is louder than traffic<\/strong>: swans, swallows, and hedgerows that practically sing<\/strong>.<\/li>\n

    <\/p>\n

  • Slowness is not idleness<\/strong>: you still do plenty, you just do it with presence<\/strong>.<\/li>\n

    \n<\/ul>\n

    <\/p>\n

    What they still miss\u2014and don\u2019t<\/h2>\n

    <\/p>\n

    They miss the cinema on a Wednesday<\/strong>, the late-night ramen, and the way a city can make you feel gloriously anonymous<\/strong>. \u201cAnd my barber who understood my weird cowlick<\/strong>,\u201d Mark added with theatrical sorrow<\/strong>.<\/p>\n

    <\/p>\n

    But they don\u2019t miss the scramble<\/strong>, the box-checking weekends, the sound of a neighbour\u2019s party through two sets of walls<\/strong>. \u201cHere, the loudest thing at midnight<\/strong> is a fox deciding if the compost is worth the effort<\/strong>,\u201d Aoife said.<\/p>\n

    <\/p>\n

    Advice for the gently restless<\/h2>\n

    <\/p>\n

    \u201cCome for a month<\/strong>, not a weekend,\u201d Aoife suggested. \u201cLet the rhythm get under your skin<\/strong>.\u201d Choose a place with a daily heartbeat<\/strong>\u2014a post office, a pitch, a school run\u2014so you can sync to the local tempo<\/strong>.<\/p>\n

    <\/p>\n

    \u201cArrive with skills<\/strong> to share,\u201d Mark added. \u201cA drill, a recipe, a willingness to stand in the rain and hold a gazebo pole<\/strong>.\u201d Start with one favour offered without ledger<\/strong>, and the place will fold you in like a letter<\/strong> slipped under a warm loaf<\/strong>.<\/p>\n

    <\/p>\n

    By late August, their Dublin lease felt like a bookmark<\/strong> in a chapter they\u2019d finished, and the village felt like the story itself<\/strong>. The bell in the square kept time, the lake kept its secrets<\/strong>, and they kept finding new paths<\/strong> simply by saying, \u201cLet\u2019s turn left today<\/strong>.\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":1610,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1585","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-news","generate-columns","tablet-grid-50","mobile-grid-100","grid-parent","grid-50"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.farmersforum.ie\/trends\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1585","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.farmersforum.ie\/trends\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.farmersforum.ie\/trends\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.farmersforum.ie\/trends\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.farmersforum.ie\/trends\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1585"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/www.farmersforum.ie\/trends\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1585\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1601,"href":"https:\/\/www.farmersforum.ie\/trends\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1585\/revisions\/1601"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.farmersforum.ie\/trends\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/1610"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.farmersforum.ie\/trends\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1585"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.farmersforum.ie\/trends\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1585"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.farmersforum.ie\/trends\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1585"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}