Dear optimistic reader,
First off a big Thank You! to my latest paid subscriber. My first five subscribers will always have a special place in my heart. I will do something fun for you before the end of the year.
In classic contrary Irish fashion, a blast of hot, sunny weather arrived as the kids drifted back to school. August can be temperamental here, and a September summer is often a late visitor, turning up laggardly but welcomed, forcing to you dig out the shorts already buried under a small pile of jumpers, and fire up the barbecue that sees maybe six uses during an Irish year. Each person in our country will be currently gripped by the certainty that this could be the last good day of the year which brings on a manic carpe diem.1
For people who want to get serious about living in the moment: spend the summer in this land of green fields and unpredictable weather. Learn how to miraculously speed through your work so you can enjoy drinks by the river to celebrate a glorious evening that swanned in, triumphant, after a week of gales and torrential rain, rather like an unannounced American relative, with no warning
‘Why hello, John. Sure that’s no bother at all. Come on in.’
Cue furious whispers, after the man is ushered into the kitchen for a wee drop (tea, coffee or whiskey are all options), about tidying up the bathroom, nipping out to the shops and cursing that invitation you made generously while a dozen sheets to the wind after a massive family wedding three years ago. (Yes, you did say, anytime, and just turn up. He remembered. Cleverly, he drank far less than you.)
‘Can you imagine he thought I was serious? He’s not staying, is he? Surely not.’ But the man will be treated like a king, since the terror of being labeled mean is genetic. We know poor treatment would cause our ancestors to pour roaring from the grave to attack us. He can stay as long as he likes, despite your resentment. Perhaps he’ll get the hint when you vacuum the hallway outside his bedroom (since the youngest is on the sofa) at six in the morning.
He will laud the generosity of his second cousins not realising that our inability to turn people away at the doorstep is why the story of Joseph and Mary would have had a different ending in Ireland - i.e. they’d have been given the big bed, the doctor called, extra food laid on, and probably never left the township after the wee child was born and charmed everyone’s socks off. We’re in dire need of carpenters.2
The return of the lobster people will be assured, as everyone forgets that sun screen (if used at all) has an expiration date, and we all bought a tube in Spring 2021, in a burst of optimism, which isn’t even a quarter empty, and will be slathered on in the expectation that those dates aren’t worth a damn.
It’s wise to always keep a tube of Aloe Vera in your house (if you are not allergic, like a good friend of mine). It’s perfect for surprise September sunburns, and it has a much longer shelf life.
But, this country, for all its infuriating qualities, can be downright seductive on a perfect day.
Irish people have a number of quirks, and one of them is an inability to be too cheerful. We squint at it, suspicious. Like many of our traits, it’s probably down to the 800 years of occupation. Now, before some of you start rolling your eyes, especially those not acquainted with the exact nature of the attempted annihilation of our culture, language (hey, I’m writing this in English) and dignity, let’s just say that while we survived and have thrived we have many scars on our collective psyche that have not yet healed.3
I’m guessing we’ll need several more generations of relaxing into the idea that we can have nice things and good jobs and no one is going to arbitrarily take them from us or make us feel guilty about them.
So if you ask an Irish person how they’re doing they’re likely to furrow their brow and shake their head and say, ‘Oh fine.’ That contradiction tells you everything. They are fine, but they aren’t, really. Oh no. It wouldn’t be proper to be brimming with joy.
If they slip, and say ‘Everything’s grand, thank god,’ with a smile, seconds later you can watch the awful realisation that they’ve been too good humoured wash over their features. It might be followed with a ‘But my mother’s dog is bothering her hip, and an otter stole my aunt’s tricycle from her back garden, in full view of the neighbours, and I don’t know how they didn’t see it as they’re always twitching the curtains and watching her business, they just can’t forget that time she tightwalked across the alleyway…’ it’s now turning into a full-blown nonsensical tale of woe due to the panic of appearing too fortunate.
Good news must be doled out with humility and self-deprecation. You’ve won the medal despite your weird stride, you got tickets to Electric Picnic but you’re packing your wellies because it always rains, or you paid off your mortgage but — no, you won’t admit that, sweet Virgin Mary, that was be close to bragging, what with the property crisis on, and young people living in shoeboxes under hedges…
Suffering must be presented in far greater portions to happiness. Think of the difference between the Cliff of Moher and Cliff Richard.
This is why Irish people make good comedians as we’re raised to undercut each other, with extra credit given if it is delivered with vicious wit. But within it is a seam of shared darkness, a pure unresolved, murderous grief, and we avoid it by dismissing compliments and being watchful of other people having notions about themselves. It is both self-policing and a monitoring of other people’s behaviour. If I’m not allowed to be well-adjusted then by Christ I’m not letting them away with posting so many photos of their winter holiday in Goa in the WhatsApp group.
And before I’m accused of another sin (it’s always about sin in Ireland) of denigrating Irish people to a wider audience, let me say that all these circumstances have raised a quixotic and fascinating people, generous, funny, and lovers of a having a night out you can boast about for decades afterwards.
It’s all about balance. Sure, good times are temporary but so are the difficult periods, and each will turn up again, like that other cousin, backpacking and Instagramming through Europe. The country has gone through many changes in the past few decades, and mostly they are positive. There were so many years when our past snuffed the wonder out of our present, and it was difficult not to bemoan our fate. Yet, finally, people looked around and thought, ‘You know what, the only people causing us grief now is ourselves; perhaps we need to take account of that.’
I’m prone to many of the qualifiers to the ‘I’m okay’, response. Over the years I’ve learned take compliments simply and to strangle the urge to throw in a sarcastic put-down. I first got an inkling of this philosophy when I lived in New York for the first time in my late teens, and my wonderful Aunt Mary complimented me on a piece of jewellery. In the manner of a young person not wishing to upset the older generation with a display of ‘thinking too much of myself’ I immediately informed her it was a cheap thing I bought out of pity.
She shook her head and smiled. ‘Oh no, my dear,’ she told me, ‘we don’t do that here. Just say “Thank you, I’m very fond of it.” Don’t go into details.’
It was an epiphany! I took her advice, and have employed it ever since.
It was one of the many reasons I loved living in America at that time in my life. But more of that again.
To round off this topic I am once again presenting you with a heart-warming story from the Internet that gives me hope and reminds me how many people use their time in fun and inventive ways. Yes, social media can be great (if curated tightly).
Below is a YouTube video from Dazza, who spotted a frog on his fence one day. He decided to 3-D print a house for it, which was a mediocre success. People on the Internet got involved and made architectural suggestions. The frog was popularly named Froderick, and then Frod — all frogs are Frod now. The house went through many iterations, and became very attractive to the amphibians. Other frogs turned up, then a possum who was named King Julien, followed by a female possum called Queen Julia. After a small pond was installed the frogs mated, produced tadpoles and the population increased. At the moment Dazza is designing a house for the Possum and in a shocking scare, Bendi the Snek (yes, a snake) went for a swim in the pond, threatening the idyllic scene.
It’s incredible to see people around the world become so invested in this small eco-system. Plus, you can now order your own Frod House.
It’s a good day for frogs (and possums… and perhaps, a snake…).
I hope you are okay today. I am!
I mean, they’re right! You never know when good weather will turn up again. Embrace it and enjoy it.
And come on people, don’t shower me with stories about the miserly types in your neighbourhood. They’ve no friends, everyone avoids them, and their own parents will avoid them in the afterlife.
The Republic of Ireland is just over 100 years old, which makes it a young adult in terms of equivalent maturity. It’s past the era of tantrums, has figured out mistakes, made some money — it also lost a bunch of it on parties and unwise investments — and is slowly showing signs of cop on.
I watch a few Irish youtube gamers and they've said the same things you have about the Irish people. One day, hubby and I hope to come and visit and see the country.
Quote:
"Like many of our traits, it’s probably down to the 800 years of occupation."
I was training a crew of the Irish Navy at the base near Cork, and was having a tea break with the Captain (a woman) and the Chief Engineer (a gay man with Dutch roots--just to say that the Irish Navy, as far as a I can see, is truly equal opportunity). They asked about my home town and I told about how the liberation of Den Bosch marked the beginning of the end of our 80 year war with Spain back in the 16th and 17th Centuries.
Dry comment from the Captain: "It took us 800 years to get rid of the British."
That was both eye-opening and humbling.
Having said that: throw off those old chains, Ireland. You're part of the EU (and we supported you unfailingly throughout Brexit) and your economy is doing much, much better than that of the UK right now. I think some optimism is warranted.