It was a bright Autumn day. We were on our way to Cavan. We had rented a house near Killeshandra for a few days. We'd had very little money back then but we knew it'd be ok. We would shop locally and self cater. We might even get a pub lunch on Sunday.

Claire and Eoin were in the back of the car. Our little yorkie, Bunty, was lying looking out of the back window, her first holiday ever. Claire was wearing her flippy floopy hat. She was about ten. Eoin was six and wearing a stripped cardigan and denim jeans. He had his treasured hoard of plastic figures beside him on the seat. He Man, wrestlers and dozens and dozens of those cheap plastic soldiers.

We were to pick up the house keys from the local post office. We pulled up in the main street and noticed that the chipper, a bar and the hardware shop all shared our surname. I think it made us feel at home. The man from the post office told us to follow him in his car.

It was starting to get dark. We drove outside the town for a little while and then turned right and followed him down a long tree lined avenue. We came upon a large imposing white house with lots of windows and a black tiled roof. It was surrounded by a whitewashed wall with a green metal gate.

The house looked a bit run down but not too bad for it's time. The position of the house however was breath taking. It sat on its own overlooking a large glistening lake, where the sun was starting to set. It was surrounded by trees and acres of woodland.

After we had unpacked the car and gotten something to eat I have a vivid memory of pulling an armchair up to the blazing fire that Martin had lit on our arrival. I sat back in the chair and raised my legs and rested them on the edge of the fireplace. “Are you comfortable enough there now? Martin teased me. I remember being totally and completely relaxed, tucked up warm in this rambling house with everyone happy around me.

We had lovely simple days, walking in the nearby woods, collecting bits of kindling to light the fire. Seeing Bunty run through the leaves. Driving to the nearby Killeshandra forest park for a picnic. Sitting around the big wooden table in the kitchen eating chip butties and playing cards. Eoin setting up his plastic soldiers on the large landing and playing out make believe wars for hours on end. Claire with her music, a tape recorder and Phil Collins songs playing over and over. And sitting around the fire in the evening telling ghost stories, while the wind rustled through the gigantic trees outside making us all feel just comfortably scared.

During the past week I have been thinking about the memories of that house and the times we spent there. We ended up going back a few times, even bringing friends and families with us sometimes to share the hidden gem that we had found in the heart of Ireland's lakelands. What I realised this week is that it would be difficult to have a holiday like that now.

For starters we would have booked that house through an advert sourced in the evening newspaper. Made the booking over the phone and then went to the post office and posted a cheque for a deposit. Obviously there were no hours spent on the internet searching for a property. No checking reviews on Trip Advisor. No sample photos showing the inside of the house, or listing the local amenities.

The issue of 'dog friendly premises' wasn't even considered, it never crossed our mind that this could have been an issue. The dog was going regardless. Everything was booked in good faith.

But now I wouldn't dream of renting a house that didn't have internet access. We arrive somewhere new and immediately go hunting a signal and seeking out passwords. We text someone to tell them that we have arrived safely and then worry when that person doesn't answer our text straight away.

Back then we were in the middle of nowhere with no house phone, no mobiles, no computers and no way of contacting the outside world without getting into the car and driving the couple of miles to the village to find a phone box if we needed to. And we didn't give it a second thought. We knew no different.

But now, despite being on 'holidays' no matter where we might be in the world, if we choose to, we can usually check up on who is checking in to wherever with whoever. We can see what someone has cooked for their dinner along with glossy photographs of said dish. See photos of people on nights out, nights in, the arrival of new babies, weddings, other people's holidays and lots more, whether we want to see them or not.

We can experience people's moods, good and bad, be it from their postings on Facebook or Twitter, or a range of smiley and sad faces. We can choose to follow people on various mobile platforms and Skype people to talk to them for free. Get news updates, weather updates, sports updates and celebrity news. It can be relentless if we let it.

The constant barage of news and information into my head has made me much more wary and anxious than I used to be back then. I know that there were always bad people in the world, always houses being robbed and people being attacked.

But with all the current news of rural crime I doubt that I would feel safe with two small kids in that remote house now, even though it's possibly not all that different than it was then. Of course something bad could have happened back then. We just weren't as conscious of it.

And much and all as I must admit, I am just as guilty and will probably be first one to go looking for a signal on my phone, But despite all of todays technology I sometimes wonder if we were better off in the days when a 'breakaway' was just that.