It is an unprecedented visit, the momentousness of which is reflected in the logistics of the occasion. From the moment Cathal Mac Coille introduces Tuesday's Morning Ireland (RTÉ Radio 1, weekdays) from inside Windsor Castle "by kind permission of Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth", the listener is left in no doubt that this is a historic broadcasting event. As RTÉ's flagship radio shows repeatedly trumpet the fact that they are airing from Britain, one can be forgiven for forgetting that President Michael D Higgins is also over there on a small trip of his own.

Given the significance of the President’s State visit, one cannot blame the national broadcaster for giving it comprehensive coverage, public-service remit and all that. But the location sometimes leads to perplexing situations, such as Bertie Ahern speaking to Mac Coille on a distant-sounding line from, er, Ireland. The anchorman even manages to twist the knife on the former taoiseach, asking the “cruel” question: “Do you wish you were here?” “I wish I was there as a spectator even,” responds a mournful Ahern.

By the time the President rolls up at the queen's residence the baton has been passed to Today With Sean O'Rourke (RTÉ Radio 1, weekdays), with a gaggle of guests contributing to a specially extended edition. Of particular note is O'Rourke's surprisingly fascinating encounter with John Major, the former British prime minister. Initially, Major sounds like a caricature, never deviating from his trademark monotone and giving only the most general answers about Britain's EU membership (broadly in favour) and Scottish independence (against), for fear of "undercutting" David Cameron.

But when it comes to the peace process, in which he played an important early role, Major shows himself a more imaginative figure than his bland image suggests. “I spent more hours than I care to remember trying to think myself into the mind of the IRA,” he says. “I thought unless I understood that, I would be in a weaker position in trying to put an end to it.” Major is canny enough to say it is for others to judge how successful he was in this task, but it is a revealing glimpse beneath a deceptive surface.

At other times the fare is more authentically banal. O’Rourke is joined by (among others) the journalist Olivia O’Leary and the former BBC royal correspondent Jenny Bond to describe the presidential arrival, but, for all the apparent pageantry and military bands in the background, the broadcasters spend much time spouting the dull detail that is the staple of such live commentary. “They’ll soon be shown to their rooms,” is a representative slice of O’Rourke’s spiel as the President enters the castle.

Other choice gossip includes the news that the queen’s tipple is Dubonnet with gin and Bond’s revelation that “most royal encounters are uninteresting” – presumably why such events don’t normally receive blanket radio coverage.

By the end O’Rourke and even O’Leary are reduced to describing the wardrobes of the respective heads of state and their parties, to the horror of Bond, who says she never reported on what the queen wore.

Considering the resources RTÉ committed, these prosaic exchanges seem a poor return. On the other hand it’s probably a good sign of Anglo-Irish harmony that such a momentous event should end up sounding so trivial.

While relations with our nearest neighbour are better than ever, things aren't necessarily so rosy back here. On CountryWide (RTÉ Radio 1, Saturday), Damien O'Reilly visits Rooskey, Co Roscommon, to produce a portrait of inexorable rural decline that is as devastating as it is low-key. Driving into the village, O'Reilly passes closed hotels and filling stations, testament to the economic erosion that is all too common in Ireland's small towns.

But in fact Rooskey is not a typical Irish community. According to Paul Healy, editor of the Roscommon People , it was "an exceptional town" that "punched above its weight", its location on the Shannon once yielding a thriving tourist trade while a bacon factory provided 600 jobs.

The turning point came in 2002, when the factory burned down. “It was Rooskey’s 9/11,” says Seamus, a former production manager, adding that the full calamitous effects “took a long time to sink in”, masked as they were by the Celtic Tiger. Since the economic collapse of 2008, however, the town has been in freefall.

As elsewhere, young people depart in their droves – all of Seamus’s six children have gone – while the small farmers left behind have an average age of 45 to 60. Indeed, one of the report’s most striking features is how old many of the voices sound.

O’Reilly does not set out to paint a bleak picture, seeking to illustrate “the good spirit around the parish” by highlighting the new GAA facilities. But resignation dominates despite such green shoots, reinforced by the telling detail that Tommy Cox’s hostelry is one of the few businesses still open. “I don’t think the recession is over in Rooskey,” Cox says.

Despite the good-natured tone of the locals, it is a profoundly melancholic snapshot. Ireland may be getting better at building bridges, but there’s still work to do closer to home.

Moment of the Week: Duncan disorderly
The week gets off to a fractious start when the environmentalist Duncan Stewart speaks to Shane Coleman on Breakfast (Newstalk, weekdays). on Monday. When Coleman says that his guest recently quit RTÉ over its coverage of global warming, Stewart clarifies that he's critical of all media for giving time to climate- change deniers and generally avoiding the issue. He then demands to know how much time he has for the "important things" he has to say. When Coleman answers eight minutes, an increasingly agitated Stewart issues an ultimatum. "Give me 10 minutes or I'm not staying in this studio." He gets his way, but his outburst overshadows his crucial message.

radioreview@irishtimes.com