I have found heaven in West Cork

A bay mare was standing over a foal curled up sleeping at her feet. Yawning and struggling to keep her eyes open, she was snoozing herself in the sun-drenched paddock of a small white farmhouse.

If I had stopped the car to admire the scene every time the scene was this perfect, then I would not have made a mile’s progress on my third house-hunting trip to Ireland.

In the country lanes, drivers slowed and waved to me on every bend. A cyclist put his foot on the ground and grinned as though genuinely pleased to see me. Everyone here has time. That’s how it seems anyway.

In a market square, I sat on a bench and sipped a takeaway coffee bought in a supermarket. ‘How are you today?’ said the lady, like she really wanted an answer. All the shop windows say ‘Closed on Tuesdays’; the restaurants are ‘Open Friday and Saturday nights’.