Today is January 6th, Epiphany, Three Kings Day:
the last day of Christmas. And the twelfth day of Christmas. Shakespeare’s
Twelfth Night? A play widely believed to have been written for tonight, the
twelfth night of Christmas. Twelve drummers drumming? Today. We keep our
Christmas tree, nativity scene, and decorations up until today is over… because
it’s still Christmas and not, as the shops would have us believe, the start of
the run-up to Valentine’s Day. Yes, I’m clinging, but what harm?
There’s a special aspect to today that I miss, which to my
knowledge is only celebrated in the southwest of Ireland, especially in Cork
and Kerry: Women’s Little Christmas (also known as Little Christmas, Little
Women’s Christmas… you might get the idea). Today makes me think of the way
women are celebrated on January 6th in that part of the world: with
free drinks and the teeniest of mince pies! What else could a girl want on a
cold day?
So what’s the story? Well, you know that your mammy and your
granny probably have always been in charge of the real Christmas goings-on
every year, yes? The shopping, the wrapping, the hint-throwing, and the stocking stuffing, not to mention the cooking. All usually handled by a woman. What's more, they probably did something special (like feed you and everyone
else within sight) for St Stephen’s Day, for New Years’ Eve, for New Years’ Day,
etc etc etc.
Poor mammies, they’re probably exhausted by now with all the
excitement of the Christmas season.
And so, the idea is to give the ladettes a day to put their feet up,
have a day out, and get a few free drinks in.
I don’t need to convince you of what a fabulous idea this
is.
Here was my experience of Women’s Little Christmas in years
past: gaggles of women out on the streets, going from pub to pub. Inside, if
there’s a fireplace, there is usually a fire roaring. The landlord pops over
with some hot whiskeys, hot ports or hot brandies and a plate of mince pies for
the gerruls – at no cost. It's a Little Christmas miracle! When you’ve finished, you either stay to
have another one (which you have to pay for yourself, come on now) or abandon
this lovely pub for another lovely pub, similarly full of women, firelight and warmth,
and probably with a different beverage on offer.
And here’s what I say: like the Spanish siesta, the north
islander eleven o’clock snack and four o’clock tea time, what a great idea. Why
not bring it here? Americans could use more things to celebrate, and believe
me, once you’re used to something (like elevenses, by golly) it’s hard to give
it up completely.
So in an attempt to instate Women’s Little Christmas on the prairie,
I’ll be swinging by the mammy’s with a bottle of port and a plate of cookies.
Kettle on, oranges sliced, and we’ll be right as rain.
Happy Women's Christmas, laydeez. Go on, you'll have another
one.
