{"id":1873,"date":"2026-06-27T15:00:00","date_gmt":"2026-06-27T14:00:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.farmersforum.ie\/trends\/?p=1873"},"modified":"2026-06-26T14:43:22","modified_gmt":"2026-06-26T13:43:22","slug":"three-years-after-leaving-athlone-for-a-tiny-village-in-the-lakelands-this-couple-say-they%ca%bcd-never-go-back-to-city-life","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.farmersforum.ie\/trends\/three-years-after-leaving-athlone-for-a-tiny-village-in-the-lakelands-this-couple-say-they%ca%bcd-never-go-back-to-city-life\/","title":{"rendered":"Three years after leaving Athlone for a tiny village in the Lakelands this couple say they\u02bcd never go back to city life"},"content":{"rendered":"

The mist lifts off the lake<\/strong> like steam from a kettle, and the only sound is a wren<\/strong> shouting from a hawthorn hedge. Three years later, Aoife and Mark swear they\u2019ve found a way of living that feels both smaller<\/strong> and larger<\/strong> at once. They left a compact townhouse, a schedule crammed with commitments<\/strong>, and the reliable hum of evening traffic<\/strong> for a laneway, a hand-me-down key to a boathouse, and a calendar that\u2019s seasonal<\/strong>, not stressful<\/strong>.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

\u201cWe used to measure our days by traffic lights<\/strong>,\u201d Mark says, \u201cnow it\u2019s by where the light sits on the water<\/strong> at noon<\/strong>.\u201d<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Trading pace for presence<\/h2>\n

<\/p>\n

They didn\u2019t flee in a blaze of romance<\/strong> or a dramatic quit<\/strong>. It was a hundred small tugs<\/strong>: rent rising a little each year<\/strong>, evenings swallowed by commutes<\/strong>, and the feeling that weekends were for recovery<\/strong>, not for actually living<\/strong>. When a chance to house-sit a cottage overlooking Lough<\/strong> Ree became permanent<\/strong>, they said yes<\/strong>.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

The first weeks were full of silence<\/strong> that felt almost too loud<\/strong>. \u201cWe\u2019d sit with a cup of tea<\/strong> and hear our own clocks<\/strong>,\u201d Aoife laughs. \u201cIt was a kind of quiet that made room<\/strong> for your thoughts<\/strong>.\u201d<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

A lane of gorse and buttercups<\/strong> became their commute<\/strong>. The sky felt wider<\/strong>, the days a bit slower<\/strong>, and every errand wrapped in an extra layer of talk<\/strong>. \u201cYou don\u2019t just buy milk<\/strong>,\u201d Mark grins. \u201cYou get the forecast<\/strong>, the hurling scores<\/strong>, and a recipe for soda<\/strong> bread.\u201d<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Finding their people<\/h2>\n

<\/p>\n

Contrary to every anxious prediction<\/strong>, the village did not leave them adrift<\/strong>. Within a month, a neighbour arrived with a bag of turf<\/strong> and the question, \u201cDo you play a bit of music<\/strong>?\u201d By autumn<\/strong>, Aoife was singing at the Thursday session<\/strong>, and Mark was learning to fix a leaky gutter<\/strong> with a man known only as Pip<\/strong>.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

\u201cWe thought we\u2019d be lonely<\/strong>,\u201d Aoife says. \u201cInstead, we became visible in a way we\u2019d forgotten<\/strong>. Here, people notice if your gate<\/strong> is open or your light<\/strong> is out\u2014and they\u2019ll knock to check you\u2019re alright<\/strong>.\u201d<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

They joined the tidy-towns crew<\/strong>, worked the bar at the parish fundraiser<\/strong>, and found that community isn\u2019t a buzzword<\/strong> but a patient, daily practice<\/strong>. \u201cYou show up, you learn<\/strong> names, you listen<\/strong>, and you bring cake when someone\u2019s tired<\/strong>.\u201d<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

A new rhythm of work<\/h2>\n

<\/p>\n

The practical hinge was broadband<\/strong>. \u201cWe waited for the fibre to go live<\/strong>, and when the green light blinked<\/strong>, we were in<\/strong>,\u201d Mark says. Aoife moved her design clients online<\/strong>, and Mark shifted his hours to suit meetings<\/strong> with Dublin-based teams<\/strong>.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Workdays now start with a walk<\/strong> to the pier, a thermos of coffee<\/strong>, and a list drawn on a postcard<\/strong>. Their breaks are physical<\/strong>\u2014stacking wood, deadheading the herbs<\/strong>, or giving the kayak a shove<\/strong>. \u201cI\u2019m more focused<\/strong>,\u201d Aoife admits. \u201cThe quiet keeps my brain tidy<\/strong>.\u201d<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

The cost-of-living pressure eased<\/strong> without becoming a fantasy of self-sufficiency<\/strong>. They spend less on rent<\/strong>, more on heating oil<\/strong>, less on impulse lunches<\/strong>, more on good boots<\/strong>. \u201cIt shifts, but it balances,\u201d Mark shrugs<\/strong>.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

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

<\/p>\n

They still love the energy<\/strong> of a packed theatre<\/strong> and the genius of a midnight curry<\/strong>. But some things they simply don\u2019t crave<\/strong> anymore.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

    <\/p>\n
  • Miss: late-night live music<\/strong>, takeaway variety<\/strong>, anonymous wandering<\/strong><\/li>\n

    <\/p>\n

  • Don\u2019t miss: creeping rents<\/strong>, parking fines<\/strong>, endless sirens<\/strong>, the drip of daily commutes<\/strong><\/li>\n

    \n<\/ul>\n

    <\/p>\n

    \u201cWhen we want a fix of the old rush<\/strong>, we take the early train<\/strong>,\u201d Aoife says. \u201cAnd when we\u2019re done, we come back to a sky that\u2019s ink<\/strong> and full of owls<\/strong>.\u201d<\/p>\n

    <\/p>\n

    Seasons as a teacher<\/h2>\n

    <\/p>\n

    Living beside water re-tuned their internal metronome<\/strong>. The calendar is now plotted by swifts<\/strong> arriving, blackberries ripening<\/strong>, the first frost on the field<\/strong>, and the last light<\/strong> on the jetty. \u201cI used to scroll to unwind<\/strong>,\u201d Mark says. \u201cNow I stare at cloud stacks<\/strong> and it does the same job<\/strong>.\u201d<\/p>\n

    <\/p>\n

    Winter wasn\u2019t quaint; it was dark<\/strong>, wet, and sometimes lonely<\/strong>. But the hearth made its own secular rituals<\/strong>\u2014soup simmering, wet socks on the rail<\/strong>, and neighbours thumping the door<\/strong> with a bottle of something warming<\/strong>. \u201cHard doesn\u2019t mean wrong<\/strong>,\u201d Aoife notes. \u201cIt just means you pay attention and keep your kindnesses<\/strong> near.\u201d<\/p>\n

    <\/p>\n

    Advice for would-be escapees<\/h2>\n

    <\/p>\n

    They suggest testing the waters<\/strong> before you leap. Rent for a season, map your routes<\/strong>, and talk to the post office staff<\/strong>\u2014they know the local truths<\/strong>. \u201cBe honest about your needs<\/strong>,\u201d Mark says. \u201cIf you live for last-minute gigs<\/strong>, make peace with the drive<\/strong> or change your habits<\/strong>.\u201d<\/p>\n

    <\/p>\n

    Make your social life a practice<\/strong>, not a hope<\/strong>. Volunteer early, say yes<\/strong> to the odd ask<\/strong>, and don\u2019t let perfect become the enemy of present<\/strong>. \u201cWe arrived with a tin of biscuits<\/strong> and a willingness to be a bit awkward<\/strong>,\u201d Aoife smiles. \u201cThat\u2019s enough to start the thread<\/strong>.\u201d<\/p>\n

    <\/p>\n

    Looking ahead<\/h2>\n

    <\/p>\n

    They planted a small orchard<\/strong>, two hives of bees<\/strong>, and a row of heritage spuds<\/strong> they can\u2019t quite name<\/strong>. Aoife dreams of a lakeside workshop<\/strong> where clients can see and touch<\/strong> the work, and Mark wants a timber shed<\/strong> that smells like cedar<\/strong> and possibility.<\/p>\n

    <\/p>\n

    Asked if they\u2019d return to a more urban<\/strong> address, they shake their heads in quiet unison<\/strong>. \u201cWe didn\u2019t step back,\u201d Mark says. \u201cWe stepped in<\/strong>.\u201d And then the wren<\/strong> starts again, the kettle clicks, and the lake throws a new pattern<\/strong> of light across their kitchen wall<\/strong>.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":1895,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1873","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\/1873","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=1873"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/www.farmersforum.ie\/trends\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1873\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1884,"href":"https:\/\/www.farmersforum.ie\/trends\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1873\/revisions\/1884"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.farmersforum.ie\/trends\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/1895"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.farmersforum.ie\/trends\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1873"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.farmersforum.ie\/trends\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1873"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.farmersforum.ie\/trends\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1873"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}