Bernard O'Shea picks 7 Christmas traditions that are uniquely Irish
Bernard O'Shea: As a former barman, The 12 pubs of Christmas was a nightmare for me.
I've tried to hold off using the "C" word in our house for as long as possible. I've written before about how poor old Halloween has been completely bypassed in favour of the yuletide festivities. But already, our kids are ecstatic about Santa's arrival. Tadhg, who's five, said to me last week, "Dad, Mum said there are only six weeks until Christmas, that's like only five hours away." He's learning about time at the moment. So I've relented. I've decided no longer shall I be the Scrooge of pre-celebrations.
As I write, I'm already into day 17 of a chocolate advent calendar. Also, this morning I had a healthy breakfast of my mother's plum pudding and a can of Club orange. When this article goes to print, I imagine I'll be like George in "It's a Wonderful Life", running through the streets shouting "Merry Christmas". A film that I never remember watching at Christmas. It got me thinking about seven Christmas traditions that are uniquely Irish.
Now with streaming services like Netflix, every imaginable Christmas movie is only a click away. However, I grew up in two-channel land. As a kid, I remember sitting in front of the telly and writing down the inside cover of an orange Aisling copy book the films RTE were showing. They always showed Indiana Jones; it was almost like they had a contract with Harrison Ford. At some stage this Christmas, nearly every citizen will once again watch as the legendary archaeologist is chased by a giant boulder and contemplate, "Why is this a Christmas movie?"
We always watch out for Santa's progress on the Six One news. When our kids see Santa on the news and his location, they know it's time to get to bed. Last year, our eldest Olivia asked us, "Why is the six o'clock news called the Six One news". Oddly enough, I tried to explain to her that it was directly related to God's birthday and Christmas, but she wasn't interested.
The passing over giving and receiving of the USA assorted biscuits. For some reason, the entire country wraps this perfectly square box in wrapping paper as if to say, "What could it be?" Thus, the ritual of swapping tins of USA happens. We had a strict rule in our house called "breaking on through to the second layer". This meant you had to eat every biscuit on the top layer before you even contemplated touching a biscuit on the bottom. Needless to say, this rule was broken every year.
Midnight Mass but not at midnight. If there was one question that could sum up Ireland, it would be "What time is Midnight Mass on this year? Christmas morning Mass is generally spiced up with kids wrecking everyone's hungover heads in their new clobber and gadgets going off. However, Midnight Mass (usually on at ten) will always have someone who doses off and the distant possibility of a few patrons with the odd gargle on them.
The 12 pubs of Christmas. As a former barman, this was a nightmare. It depended on what stage the group was on. If it was their first pub, there would be high spirits and convivial warmth. But someone always led the charge of "Come on, we have 11 more to go". There is the silent majority who want to stay in the pub because they got seats. But alas, they too are hounded out of their comfort. Rarely is this Iliad adventure actually finished. There is a mythical figure of the person who did the 12 pubs of Christmas for 12 days in a row, but it's only folklore.
St Stephen's Day. Our nearest neighbours call it Boxing Day. But we've held firm to calling it after St Stephen. He, of course, is the Patron of Saint of Getting Out Of The House Because Everybody Is Doing Your Head In. It's the night where you can catch up with friends who are back for a few days, but you inevitably end up talking to the same crew. It's also the night you decide you are getting chips after the nightclub because even though you've eaten your weight in chocolate Kimberleys, it's Christmas. You are going to start a diet in the New Year.
The left ones. There are always little casualties at Christmas. It's almost unequivocal that the strawberry, orange, and Turkish delight are leftover in the Milk Tray or Roses box. The polo and pink wafer are left idling in the dusty red plastic of the USA tin, and the circular tin of Danish butter cookies was used as a door jam. Take pity on these poor ill-omened treats because you will need them when you break your diet on the 4th of January. Way too often have I scoured the presses and been overjoyed to find these sugary little allies.
But next year I am really going on a diet.
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