... but I stopped. Now I'm a dad, and may blog again...
Showing posts with label st patrick. Show all posts
Showing posts with label st patrick. Show all posts

Tuesday, March 20, 2012

550: Patrick's Boxing Day

So, what were we celebrating with St. Patrick's Day? Is it a celebration of the life and times of St. Patrick, born in Roman Britain, c.387, died some time later, somewhere in Ireland - patron saint of Ireland, Nigeria, Montserrat, New York, Boston, Murcia, engineers, paralegals, and Melbourne. Or is it a celebration of that form of Irishness largely invented as a marketing tool for brewers and landlords, around the time when they took the English word crack, meaning a good time, and pseudo-Gaelicised it into craic.

So, is St. Patrick's Day a celebration of a saint but that shows no sign of celebrating the saint, or is it a celebration of a national stereotype? Perhaps, like Christmas, it is a mostly secular celebration that due to popular demand is ignoring its tedious Christian heritage. (Aside: next time someone accuses me of trying to take the Christ out of Christmas by writing xmas, I think I'll accuse them of trying to force the Christ into yuletide or trying to take the Saturn out of Saturnalia.)

Conclusion; I just don't know what St. Patrick's Day is supposed to be. Is it one of those weird things that America has fiddled with and then punted back to us, like that thing they call Halloween.

I wrote all that ^^^ on Sunday during Patrick's Boxing Day, Hangover Day, and felt it too combative, tiresome, arrogant and aimless to post. Then I just forgot about it. There was too much lying about in my dressing gown to be done. Now, many days later, I've just decided to whack it up there on the internet for all the imaginary people to read. No further comment. Aside: there is further comment, and it is this: St. Patrick's Day was bloody good crack.

Saturday, March 17, 2012

548: Lá Fhéile Pádraig shona daoibh!!

Ahh, St. Patrick's Day. Happy St. Patrick's Day. The one day of the year when all Irish people wear green and get drunk. The only day. Just one a year. Happy St. Patrick's Day to all my Irish friends and family, to all my alcoholic friends and family, and to all my Irish alcoholic friends. So English, Welsh and Scottish people, what will you be doing on St. Patrick's day? Oh, that's nice. What were you doing on St. George's, David's and Andrew's Days? No, me neither. Americans? How about you? What were you doing on whatever your National Saint's day might be... St. Innocent of Alaska, or Joseph, or ... Samuel Colt?

OK, I think that is all of the lazy stereotypes and unfunny crap jokes I'm contractually obliged to make today. For me St. Patrick's Day will combine elements of those two native-born Irish Saints, Cóemgen of Glendalough (Caoimhín, or Kevin), and Brigid of Kildare. Post-modern, shallow dickhead that I am, I will pick and choose which bits I like, and disregard the rest. From Cóemgen I take my name Irished up for the day, and from Brigid I pay my respects to her apparent miracle of turning her dirty bathwater into delicious beer. Slainte!

My almost-wife is Irish (Northern), and we both like a cooked breakfast on a Saturday, so I started the day by cooking up a Full Irish. Essentially it's the same as a Full English. In fact, it's exactly the same, because 'Full English' seems not to have a set definition. Depending who makes it it contains different stuff. When I make a cooked breakfast, English or Irish, it needs black pudding (preferably Bury, the best black pudding in the world, probably). I also enjoy hash browns. Today I also fried up a couple of pieces of Bury white pudding. One problem however: I didn't get any Soda bread. That would have been the one ingredient that would have prevented any Irish/English confusion. Never mind, there was potato cakes, so don't panic.

OK, I'm off. Make mine a Guinness. Slowly. No logo. :p

Here, have some Irish hip hop: