As you read this, four humans are further away from the rest of us than anyone has ever been in the history of the species.

Reid Wiseman, Victor Glover, Christina Koch and a Canadian fella called Jeremy Hansen are on their way home from a loop around the back of the moon, having clocked 252,756 miles from Earth on Monday afternoon, which is 4,101 miles past the record set by the Apollo 13 mission in 1970.

They are the first humans in deep space in over fifty years, basically. During the forty minutes the moon blocked their signal back to Houston, they named a crater after Commander Wiseman’s late wife Carroll and ate maple cream cookies.

It must be an awesome experience. Four people in a tin can called Integrity, looking back at the rest of us, the Earth no bigger than a marble out the window. As I watched with my slippers on, I must admit to feeling a small bit jealous.

Reid Wiseman said the silence behind the moon was the most peaceful thing he’d ever experienced.

Meanwhile, back on Earth, silence and integrity are in short supply. We are stuck down here listening to the mad king in the White House foaming at the mouth about Bridge Day, Power Plant Day, Blow ‘Em Back To The Stone Age Tuesday… It’s exhausting even pretending to keep track.

Honestly, sign me up for Artemis III. I’ll bring my own porridge.

Four seasons in one day

Despite all these shenanigans on the global stage, I spent a gorgeous Easter break in West Cork where we experienced at least ten thousand different weather systems over the course of a few days. What would you expect from April, says you, a month with more mood swings than the Donald.

Storm Dave arrived Saturday afternoon with a bang, and by teatime the trees in Ardfield were doing a very convincing impression of those inflatable lads you’d see outside American car dealerships in films.

Eighteen thousand homes lost power across the country, flights were cancelled at Dublin and we had to do a runner out of The Red Strand for the safety of home. It was, by any measure, spectacularly windy.

We had an Italian family in our house in Dublin, on a home exchange, so I was a bit concerned for the poor divils, who would not be genetically built for sideways rain. But they had the time of their lives, I’m glad to report. Dublin still gets terrific reviews from all our guests, as difficult as that might be for some of you to believe.

One thing I do in Ardfield that I rarely do in the city is step outside at night before I go to bed.

There’s nothing like the blanket of stars on a clear night. I do the same first thing in the morning, when I step out the back of the house for a blast of Atlantic air.

Standing there this week, looking out across Glandore Bay, it got me thinking about the fact that Ireland currently generates exactly zero megawatts of electricity from offshore wind. Our only offshore wind farm, the seven turbines at Arklow Bank that were officially opened back in 2005, is in fact applying to be decommissioned.

Scotland came to the party three years after us and now has nine offshore wind farms and an industry many times the size of ours.

Almost a hundred years ago the Free State spent twenty per cent of its entire budget building Ardnacrusha on the Shannon.

It took five thousand workers, four years, and when it was finished it was one of the largest hydroelectric stations in the world.

We’re celebrating the centenary with tours and speeches about national ambition while the wind howls past us and we have been unbelievably slow to act on it.

Wind Energy Ireland reckons we could put up 5.5 gigawatts of offshore capacity for €24 billion, which is less than one year of corporate tax receipts. We have the money and we have the wind, and I know there are plans to install 5 GW by 2030, 20 GW by 2040, and 37 GW by 2050.

With oil and petrol prices zooming out of reach, and the world getting less stable by the year, we’ve never had a better motivation to get this done.

Converted van man

Conor Davidson, a 22-year-old chemical engineering student at UL, is living in a converted van because he can’t afford the rent in Limerick.

He turned to social media last week for tips on fitting it out.

The university, fair play to them, runs a commuter hub with free breakfasts for students driving in from the back of beyonds at 8am, while a €300 million student accommodation scheme nearby has planning permission and not a sod turned.

I studied in UL myself back in the last century, and although I lived in some kips in my time, at least they were all made of bricks and mortar.

Moon missions and energy independence seem like pipedreams when this is the world we are leaving the next generation.

Although, as Mr. Davidson proves, the next generation always surprises us with its creativity and innovation. They’ll need every ounce of it.