What day is it?
I am dispensing with ‘days’ in the sub-heads in this week’s column, because there are so many days over the Christmas period, and they end up forming a confusing string of 24-hour cycles that inevitably lose conventional structure.
It means very few of us are one hundred percent sure which day it is at any given time, at least until we check. Normal service will resume when we are fully into the very mundane January period.
For one night only
I was no help to the publicans over the Christmas, having only gone out one night at time of writing. We did dine out a couple of times during the day/evening, but in terms of having a few pints up to closing time I’ve only ventured out on the Thursday before Christmas.
There was a brilliant festive buzz in the magnificent JJ Harlow’s, where John Wynne and friends were entertaining a huge crowd with their regular Thursday night set.
There was an added Christmas atmosphere of course, and it was nice to see many familiar faces. High stools were at a premium, but the party of four I was in somehow managed to secure the required number due to outbound traffic and our impressive alertness.
Thereafter, it was a lovely night. There is something special about the way the Irish socialise. I met a few people I haven’t seen in several months, in some cases longer. The Christmas spirit effortlessly overcomes the passage of time, broken contacts, etc. At Christmastime you can meet someone you mightn’t have seen in a few years, and somehow the festive vibe conquers any awkwardness or uncertainty, friendliness and goodwill winning the day.
Earlier, we enjoyed an excellent meal in the Coachman’s Inn, Spurs and Manchester United playing out a cup thriller on the TV screens dotted around the premises. On our way into town, we had all agreed that the Christmas lights in Roscommon are just fantastic, the town centre looking wonderfully festive, warm and welcoming.
In terms of people, and quality of life, this is a great town.
Not going out…
On not going out much over Christmas… is that a Covid-19 ‘hangover’, or just because I’m getting older? I think it’s a combination of factors.
Truth be told, I wanted to enjoy quality time at home with our family… chocolates, the odd beverage and the remote control within reach.
Family for us now includes a precious, wonderful 20-month-old grandson (hence coverage of the Stoke-Leeds game on Sky the other night was occasionally interrupted by a small hand miraculously switching back to Cocomelon on Netflix).
By the way, one of the reasons some people have cut back on socialising over the years is because the taxi service at night in Roscommon town remains very limited. I don’t mind saying it; in fact it needs to be said. It has been a source of frustration for people for many years and doesn’t seem to have improved at all. It’s high time that local taxi drivers gave serious thought to some form of rota system that can satisfy public demand/help with nightly footfall. There may or may not be a role for publicans in any such creative approach.
*Leeds beat Stoke 2-0 to go top of the Championship; on Cocomelon, the wheels on the bus kept going round and round, a metaphor for life itself I guess.
Bin there, not done that
There are three certainties in life, I think we can all agree. Death, taxes, and the utter frustration you will feel if/when you forget to leave the bins out. This morning, we realised we forgot to leave the bins out last night. Very frustrating, especially in the lead-up to Christmas! Luckily, we have one more chance (to get them emptied) before the upcoming festive excess. I say ‘three certainties in life’… I suppose it’s four if you count the 2 Johnnies getting shows commissioned.
Secret Santa limits
Once upon a time, someone wise (and probably old) realised that everyone was getting stressed. The source of the stress was obvious: there were too many Christmas presents to be bought… too much choice and too much running and racing.
The wise person had an idea, and thus the ‘Kris Kindle’ or ‘Secret Santa’ was born.
It only came to Ireland in recent years, after we’d spent the previous 20 or 30 years going mad buying stuff, making the Celtic Tiger boom period boomier (as Bertie Ahern would say), while also stubbornly continuing to buy, buy, buy, even during recessions. Something had to be done, and so we finally embraced the Secret Santa.
We all agreed on the genius behind it. ‘Sure it makes sense’. ‘Sure it was gone crazy’. ‘The kids don’t appreciate all the toys, they get so much’. ‘No need to include the adults!’ ‘Sure you’d need a trailer to carry all those presents’.
The Secret Santa would devour pre-Christmas stress and tension. Suddenly, there were less people to buy for. Ingeniously, there was an agreed spending budget/limit. And of course, while it might be rather unimaginative, there came into our midst an invention to rival any of the greatest in the history of civilisation… the One4all card.
Sadly, I detect a worrying new trend. Just when we should be well used to the Secret Santa system, a flaw has emerged. The budget/limit is no longer seen as mandatory. Human weakness is kicking in again. In recent years, the budget/limit is often disregarded. And so begins a terrifying sub-plot.
In households all over the country, a family member, who knew perfectly well what the limit was (usually €50-€80) is liable to brazenly stand up and hand over about €130 worth of gifts to ‘their’ Secret Santa, in full view of mortified fellow family members. And so the other family members, or at least those who had adhered to the limit, suddenly come out in a cold sweat. Nowadays, it is normal for people to exceed the limit, or perhaps to buy one item to the value of the agreed budget, before popping into 12 more shops to purchase half a dozen little ‘add-ons’. ‘Just a few things now, nothing special… and you can return them all if they don’t fit!’
Anyways, Happy Christmas!
Boris, Albert (& Noel)
If it was made into a Netflix one-off, they could call it The Russian, the Rossie and the Rooskey (man).
The release over Christmas of State papers/national archives after the usual 30-year period brought back memories of the bizarre incident (or non-incident?) at Shannon Airport in 1994 when Russian President Boris Yeltsin failed to emerge from the plane while Taoiseach Albert Reynolds and various other dignitaries waited in vain to greet him.
The view at the time, and since, is that Boris had over-indulged in vodka, and was basically too drunk to meet his commitments. It was quite the diplomatic episode. With Rooskey-born Albert and several ministers waiting on the red carpet after the plane landed, there was no sign of Yeltsin. As Irish and Russian officials discreetly engaged, the (Irish) Head of Protocol told Taoiseach Reynolds that Yeltsin “might be the worse for wear on arrival”.
Enter the Rossie (Roscommon) connection. The State papers record that Roscommon town native Noel Fahy, then the assistant secretary of the Department of Foreign Affairs, later noted: “President Yeltsin’s indisposition was at one stage seen as curable” – in other words, that he would sober up – “but that in the end it was decided not to take a risk of events such as took place in Berlin” (when Yeltsin had been visibly drunk in public).
Yeltsin never got off the plane in Shannon (later claiming that he had simply overslept). An Irish diplomat later reported that when Yeltsin arrived back in Moscow, he was “loud and a little incoherent”, and in a “somewhat excited mood”, but “quite sober”. Later, Yeltsin wrote to Reynolds apologising for the “unfortunate mishap”.
Albert didn’t feel snubbed, and took the whole episode (and Yeltsin’s alleged drunkenness) in good humour. He was a teetotaller himself, but had seen worse in the Cloudland Ballroom (which he co-owned) in Rooskey over the years!
Unwrapped presents
Christmas should be a time of peace, celebration, joy. Sadly, this Christmas has seen no end to the rampant violence in parts of the world. The appalling slaughter of innocent children (and adults) continues in Gaza. Putin launched over 170 missiles into Ukraine on Christmas Day. Spreading terror is a 365-day commitment, it seems.
In recent years, Christmas Markets have blossomed into wonderful, communal, almost spiritual-like celebrations across towns and cities of the world. There is a joyfulness and warmth to them… people gathering in carefree and happy mood, the markets dispensing the spirit of Christmas, goodness pushing negativity, selfishness and unkindness to the shadows.
On the 20th of December, one such market was in full flow in a town in Germany. Five people were killed when a car ploughed into crowds attending the market in Magdeburg. One of the victims was nine-year-old Andre Gleissner.
He came into the world as recently as 2015. He learnt of the magic of Christmas, of Santa Claus, of goodness, hope and joy. He had volunteered to help out at the market. A family friend said that Andre had been “so looking forward to Christmas” but would now “never be able to unwrap his presents”.
The boy’s mother said: “Let my little teddy bear fly around the world again… now you are with grandma and grandpa in Heaven. They missed you very much as we miss you here now. You will always live on in our hearts”.
A cruel person carried out this barbaric, utterly unjustified attack, for only a cruel person could. One might make arguments about war, and the inevitability of such conflicts, but there is nothing to justify some of the horrors that are being perpetrated in our world. The death toll in Gaza (in 14 months) is put at over 45,000. Hundreds of thousands of people have reportedly been killed in the Russia-Ukraine war, now heading for three years on from the former’s invasion.
Rest in peace Andre Gleissner, one of thousands of innocent, beautiful children who didn’t get to unwrap Christmas presents last week.
Just check, mate
Today (Friday, 27th of December; I checked) chess great Magnus Carlsen walked out of the World Rapid and Blitz Chess Championships in New York after being barred from playing because he was wearing jeans.
In a statement, governing body FIDE said its dress code regulations were designed to “ensure professionalism and fairness for all participants”. They issued the Norwegian player and current world number one with a modest 200 dollar fine and also gave him the opportunity to change into the correct attire.
Carlsen said he could turn up the following day in the recommended clothing, but FIDE responded by saying he had to change out of the jeans there and then.
Worryingly (for me at least), Carlsen said he’s too old at this point to care too much. He’s 34. Anyways, he walked out, stating that neither side in the spat “wants to back down”.
I guess it’s ‘next move’ to the organisers.
On the darts (kind of)
For anyone who likes to watch men dressed as nuns drinking pints and singing ‘Zombie’ while standing next to someone dressed as Batman, or maybe a giant, excitable chicken, as world class players throw darts on a nearby stage, the Alexandra Palace in London is probably the place to be. I’m not aware if this social outlet is available anywhere else at the moment. Sky Sports is filming it every night; you should check it out.
For anyone who just likes to watch men dressed as nuns drink pints alongside people dressed as giant, excitable chickens, but with no world class darts added in, I have no particular advice.
Gavin and Stacey
The Gavin and Stacey finale (BBC 1, Christmas Day) started off slowly, and at ninety minutes, was probably a touch too long. It had no pretensions about being anything more than a ‘wrap up’ on the much-loved series, which last aired in 2019, when Nessa (played by Ruth Jones) proposed to Smithy (James Corden).
That episode five years ago was quite a cliffhanger, leaving millions of viewers wondering what Smithy’s response might have been. With James Corden heading off to America in the interim – to great success as a chat show host, while simultaneously being rude to waiters – the chances of ‘Gavin and Stacey’ returning seemed slim as the years passed. But co-writers (and stars) Jones and Corden agreed to this one-off Christmas special, and were joined by all the original cast members.
This final episode was great entertainment, with some very funny one-liners, while also being very nostalgic. Judging by reaction on social media, viewers were delighted (and relieved) that there was a happy ending, with Nessa and Smithy getting married. There were some hilarious moments in this heartwarming finale. The entire cast were excellent, with Alison Steadman (as Pam) and Jones (as Nessa) leading the way. It’s been a great feel-good show, one that’s close to the hearts of millions of people. Roll on the repeats.
