On Women's Little Christmas, and why it's a brilliant idea.

Today is January 6^th, 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 6^th 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.