I read a story written by one of my lecturers recently. It was about a family Christmas and in it, the mother bought two kinds of Christmas crackers – ones for the adults and ones for the kids. I was confused. Why would the kids need a different kind of cracker – were the adult ones made with crack instead of baking powder? Sean to the rescue: Christmas crackers are twists of shiny paper filled with a prize, so named because of the “crack” they make when opened. Two people grab either end and pull until the thing pops; the one who gets the larger end gets the gift inside. How fun. How insidious. They’re deemed Class One Explosives by the Anpost (Irish postal service). Terrorism, like. Explosions. Obviously. They couldn’t go in the holiday package.
Oh, well. It’s not as though there weren’t plenty of other things to buy. The nice thing about living abroad is that holiday gifts are simple to choose; just raid the local trad goods shops and you’re set. This year, Aran jumpers, Butler’s chocolates, and Fair Isles socks for the whole family. Should help them deal with that cray-cray New York blizzard.
Snow flurries in Dublin, holiday shopping madness on Grafton Street, mince pies sold everywhere, and apparently I can drink quite a lot of hot port without getting drunk.