This Magazine Staff
Ah, my second-least-favourite “holiday”. It’s right up there with Valentine’s Day, which takes top honours, for reasons which I probably don’t have to explain to anyone.
I was going to blog this morning about the Irish really deserve more credit than they get, and that Guinness Canada’s marketing ploy to get March 17th made into a national holiday, all in the name of drinking beer…well, it just reinforces that image of the short, red-faced man with drool on his chin staggering out of a pub at last orders (which, in Eire, is around 10:00).
I was going to point out that Ireland’s contribution to literature and music is nearly without peer. And then apologize, we take no responsibility for Great Big Sea, and so on.
I’m the girl who’s humbug about St Patrick’s day. I refuse to wear green, because people who ARE Irish don’t need to. My one concession being a piece of antique jewellry. And after all, my eyes are green, so there you are.
I was feeling very righteous, in the way that I sometimes am, until I surfed to the link I wanted to provide you all with, the coverage of the St. Patrick’s Day parade in Dublin, which took place this afternoon. And then I read the following paragraph:
“Organisers are asking people to enjoy themselves responsibly after claims that drunkenness marred last year’s festival.”
And so instead I salute you all, you wannabe Irish. May the road rise to meet you, and may the wind be at your back. And may you be in heaven half an hour before the devil knows you’re dead.