JIM O’BRIEN Communication more than jumble of words on a screen

THERE are certain houses in the country that always seem to have visitors. Such houses have a big kitchen, a long table surrounded by a wide variety of well-worn chairs, a stove that never goes out and a kettle with an eternal wisp of steam rising from its spout. The next pot of tea is never far away.

I know one such house in the midlands. A neighbour once described it as “a great place to go — there’s always something daft happening there”.

The rambling house was a marvellous tradition in the country; it was the gossip exchange, the news exchange and the information exchange. In the 21st century social media is replacing much of what the rambling house did and Facebook more than any other form of social media is the new public meeting space.

News now travels in cyberspace and whether you have had a tooth pulled, a dog put down or have just purchased a new tractor, it isn’t real until it’s on Facebook.

I’m not a Facebooker. I once was but I found it most intrusive and felt pestered with friend requests from people I didn’t know from Adam. It reminds me of an old colleague I used to play cards with once upon a time, a great character who in a word or a short sentence could get to the core of people and their foibles. He was never cruel; his observations would be pointed enough to get the message across but rounded enough not to do lasting damage. Referring to individuals that he preferred to keep at arm’s length he would say: “He’s a nice auld yoke but I wouldn’t go on holidays with him.”

I am amazed at the number of people of all ages who use Facebook for all their social connections. In the queue at the supermarket or the petrol station or the local coffee shop I hear people all the time referring to the aforementioned social medium. “I saw you got the hip done.” “Did you see me on the crutches?” “No, I saw it on Facebook.” One can’t have a sneeze nowadays but it’s posted somewhere.

And what of the downsides? One of the major costs arising from what is called ‘social media’ is the increased absence of human contact; it is making the need to meet and talk to people redundant. The great joy in imparting significant news face-to-face is all but gone. There is no need to phone or call and tell people stuff.

For instance, you rarely see young people, or ‘millennials’, talking on their phones — that’s something old people do. And when you phone a young person they answer as guardedly and timidly as if you were calling from the tax office looking for a return. “Dad, don’t call, just text like everyone else.” The rambling house and its functions, even the practice of human conversation and the use of the human voice are being usurped by a technology that is immediate, that is available to every hand and fits in every pocket.

But there remains in us a need and a hunger for places to gather where the whispering voice will attract a tilted head and a listening ear, where a hand can reach out and touch an elbow, when a back can be slapped in appreciation of a story well told, where a raised eyebrow, a wink or a grimace can communicate in a way that 1,000 emojiis cannot.

Near where I live, every Saturday morning the local hall opens as a community café.

It’s a marvellous place to go to meet the neighbours, to get all kinds of news or updates on the news.

It’s a simple building that’s over 100 years old but it has a lovely warm atmosphere where you feel part of the fabric of numerous lives. It’s a great space to meet new arrivals or someone from the extended family of neighbours and