Roisin, checking her email.

Back in Holland, we have pretty snappy internet access. Don't ask me how snappy - with my level of technical knowledge of these matters it could be anywhere between 24 elephants per second to somewhere in the region of 67 million elephants per second. I don't know. What I do know is that Youtube at home is watchable, whilst here in Ireland using wireless it's a little like watching a Powerpoint presentation. Very slowly.

But still, I mustn't grumble. It's a vast improvement on last year when there was no internet access in the house at all, and the feeling of disconnect from the world - real and virtual - was that much more acute. In some ways it's nice: I didn't get called once, and so the worry about work disappeared completely. Subsequently, the first few days back behind my desk involves me spending a lot of time on the phone to the helpdesk, asking them to reset my passwords, or unlocking a variety of applications that I've locked myself out of.

For me, having access to the internet here means I can keep up with the exploits of the mighty Aberdeen AFC (although losing to Fraserburgh and drawing 1-1 with Dunfermline and Tamworth (ffs) means I quickly want to forget about Mark McGhee and his bunch of no-hopers before a ball has even been kicked in anger in season 2010/11), as well as the news in general. And Blipfoto of course!

For the kids, having the internet is like having a life support system next to their bed. They're so interconnected these days, with Facebook, MSN, Google Chat, Buzz and God-only-knows-what-else, that for them to not be in touch in some way is like a drug addict going cold turkey. They need to know what their best friends are up to, where they've been, who they've seen and so on.

In many ways it makes this holiday easier, especially for Roisin as she's getting older. She's only 12, but there will come a time that she wont want to go to Ireland to see her aunts and uncles and grandmother because there is nothing to do here and she'd rather go to Spain with her friends on some hedonistic Club 18-30 type holiday, if such a thing still exists that is. But having access to the internet means she keeps in touch with her other life back home. For now, it's enough, but I wonder for how much longer.

So todays Blip is Roisin getting her fix, i.e., chatting to her friends back in Holland at the desk and computer from which I am sending this update. Ben is captured in the foreground, caught in the moment where I walked in (iPhone camera at the ready) and told Roisin to "get off the fecking computer and get outside, after all it's a sunny day and fresh air is good for you and you spend your whole life in front of that screen if I let you and Jesus didn't I pay a lot of money to get you over here so finish up and get out".

A large part of getting older involves you trying your hardest not to turn into your parents, but having typed out my rant (almost verbatim) I realise that the older I get, the more like my own father I am becoming. Years ago, on family visits to Holland I would be at the same carry-on: eyes fixed to some handheld video game while life moved on around me. He'd come in and say pretty much the same thing, only with more expletives.

I turned 40 a few weeks ago. Can you tell?