"We" are the community of 50 or so people who turned up in Belleek to watch them being freed from their enormous chicken-wire wigwam into the 'wild'. Some were actively involved in the process of bringing said squirrels and others . . .me . . . are just interested spectators.

Belleek woods aren't what you'd call 'the wild', exactly, but they are astonishingly beautiful. And as I stood there on what was a mild Autumn afternoon, sun dappling through the trees, soft, mossy bark underfoot in the dense atmosphere only a wood can create, I got a shot of surprising joy. The kind that happens over really quite ordinary things when it suddenly occurs to me that I am just simply happy to be in my own life. I was puzzled to find that this joy was coming, not just from my scenic surroundings, but also from the people who were experiencing this mildly eccentric but nonetheless historic and thoroughly worthwhile spectacle alongside me.

It was the mix of people you can only get in a small place where everyone knows everyone . . .

and for me it comprised close family, friends and vague acquaintances. My son was haring around getting lost in the trees and searching for the squirrels that he had been promised but which remained, sadly, elusive. Old friend Carmel Tuffy is always so glamorous and good-humoured I can barely believe she has three small children.

Aideen Kane, my chum, was there recording the event for a television series . . . the very idea of a television producer living and working here in the wilds of Mayo is so uncompromisingly thrilling and modern to me that the mere sight of her gives me a kick. Then the various "dignitaries" . . . politicians and councillors who turn up to these events . . . and while they sometimes make my eyes roll, there is something great about the way that I even know who they are. Michelle Mulherin, Dara Calleary, Padraig Moore . . . I have met them all in different contexts over the years I have been visiting Ballina and probably seen them more often in the past year than old friends from Dublin and London.

Heather from Tidy Towns, Patty from the gym, Toddy from way-back when . . . is he married now?

Father Brendan Hoban, local priest and columnist was there, and we enjoyed a potter and a chat . . . and Bishop Richard Henderson who is such an inspiring orator that even his few offthe-cuff words made my toes tingle.

The afternoon represented for me the kind of gentle but nonetheless enforced exposure to people you would never normally meet that living in a rural area exposes you to. One imagines that city life broadens one's social circle, but in reality before I moved here my world was 'the media' and now it is gradually, and charmingly becoming populated by all sorts.

That's not to say I welcome all comers but the afternoon made me reflect that while it is easy to burrow oneself into a clique, it's a hell of a lot more interesting when you don't.