THIS Christmas, I’ll be spending my very first away from my family. It’s a big milestone, not least of all because it will also be my first Christmas away from Ireland, and the nuances of English Christmas are a mystery to me. What do they do, the English, on Christmas? Watch Doctor Who? Nap? Eat a festive red and green Battenburg to the tune of God Save the Queen? I can’t confess to know. I do not yet know how to survive a British Christmas. What I can advise on is how to survive an Irish Christmas, and I am going to share them with you how here.
1. Your sleeping arrangements are tenuous and could change at any moment
Irish sleeping arrangements work similarly to Irish travel arrangements. While Nan might technically be the smallest person in the car, she will nonetheless have the front seat. Your 6”6 brother, meanwhile, will bunch into the foetal position in the back seat. This is the same with sleeping. While logically it would make sense that you and your partner get to sleep in your old double bed, be prepared for bunk beds. This could be demoted to sofa or dog bed, depending on who drops by.
How to survive: if you’re in a position to pack a sleeping bag, by all means do. If you need to pack light, bring big scarves, woolly hats and thermals. When you’re huddling under a baby blanket with your sister, you’ll thank me.
2. Speaking of which, people will drop by
While an English person will call three times to confirm that they’re coming to return your jumper, an Irish person at Christmas is so hopped up on Festive Craic that they will wander, Night of the Living Dead-style, through the neighbourhood. Loaded down by tins of Roses and bad port, they will invade your home and eat up your time as well as your shortbread. This is nice the first couple of times, but ultimately: you have presents to wrap, a guest bedroom to make up and a some port to re-gift.
How to survive: same rules as with vampires. As soon as you invite them in, you’re done for. Accept their good tidings in the the doorway, and for the love of god don’t let them step past the welcome mat unless you have an hour to spare. However awkward this makes you, be comforted in the fact that the festive well-wisher will remember your rudeness forever and probably never both your again.
3. Adjust your small talk accordingly
If you live in a city, and are planning to spend Christmas either in rural Ireland or with the rural Irish, remember that your city person small talk will need to change. While people who live in cities delight in talking about their jobs, this generally doesn’t fly at Irish Christmas. Irish people usually don’t fetishize work in the same way: work is a thing you do for money, money is a thing you need to do things you enjoy. If someone asks “How’s work?”, any answer other than “era, you know yourself” is both rude and boring. You must always, always, beware of the ultimate insult of being “up yourself” since you moved away. “Up yourself” is a catch-all term for all of the following: arrogance, pridefulness, pretentiousness and buying The Guardian. There is no coming back from being “up yourself”, and it must be avoided at all cost.
How to survive: stockpile stories in which you are the stupidest person in the story. Make them up if you have to (you won’t have to) and embellish where possible. Stories where you put your foot in your mouth so far that you ended up swallowing it and where you slipped on a banana peel so badly that you lost both of your legs. There is nothing an Irish audience enjoys more than humility, so swallow your pride upon entry.
4. Mass
On Christmas Day, someone will try to make you go to Mass.
How to survive: say you went to Midnight Mass.
5. Monitor the elderly
Here’s something everyone learns the hard way: old people are liars. Your grandad will politely ask for a hot whiskey, pretending to forget that he just asked your dad to get him one. Under no circumstances should a 90 year old man have two hot whiskey’s before turkey, unless you want a refreshingly honest review of the gift you’ve just given him. On a more considerate note, try to remember that Christmas can be legitimately difficult for older people. For emotional reasons as well as physiological ones: it’s really, really hard to keep up with five conversations around the dinner table if you’re deaf in one ear and blind in one eye. This is true of all older people, rather than just Irish ones, but Irish old people have a tendency of hanging on longer than any other, and there’s often quite a few of them around the place on Christmas day.
How to survive: don’t just sit all the older people together, for one thing. Old people are bored of talking to each other. Instead, have a steady rota of people on Grandparent duty on Christmas day. This is best planned when you’ve had a couple of gins and need to rest your head somewhere soft.
6. For the love of god, have a party piece
My family aren’t religious, but we do hold by one very firm belief: everyone, no matter who they are, has a party piece. This is pretty commonplace in Irish households and whether you call it a ‘noble call’ or a ‘little tune’ it’s the same thing. No excuses work here. If you say you can’t sing, someone will point out that neither can they, yet they just sang *two* songs. If you really dig your heels in, you will forever be remembered as the guest who didn’t sing. Keep this in mind if you are a new boyfriend or girlfriend, because your reaction to the noble call will be the only thing anyone talks about on Stephen’s Day. “Wasn’t Oscar great,” your partner’s mum will say, beaming with approval “to get up and sing Smack My Bitch Up? Great craic. He can come back.”
How to survive: learn something you can more or less talk your way through, and learn it with gusto. My brother Shane doesn’t have a note in his head and has sung The Wild Rover for 18 Christmases in a row. No one will remember the quality of your voice, only your commitment to the performance. Remember, this is the nation that made Shane McGowan famous.
7. Avoid being suddenly, visibly pissed
The global tradition of Irish people is that we are loud, filthy drunks. This is, in most cases, untrue: the true remarkableness of Irish drinking is our ability to drink from noon till midnight on Christmas day without ever appearing more than lightly jovial. I still find this amazing, and despite being born and bred in Munster, I have never been really able to hack it. I am an enthusiastic yet weak drinker, and have often found myself totalled by 4pm. Falling asleep sitting up is not a great look on Jesus’s birthday, and as with all bad behaviour at family gatherings - it will be talked about.
How to survive: refusing a drink in Ireland isn’t like refusing a drink in England, where someone will usually nod and pour you some elderflower cordial. Unless you’re visibly pregnant, turning down booze is like telling your host “I’m just not very interested in your hospitality.” When faced with “What will you have?” at the start of the day, please remember that you will only be asked this question once. If you ask for red wine, your glass will be topped up with red wine all day. Order something you know you can handle, and where you can, top up your gin and tonic with tonic as often as you can. It’s a long, long, long day, and it will be even longer if you’re vomiting on the back patio.
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