Middle of December in Donleavy’s. The place was jointed with people. The purse strings were obviously beginning to loosen. The pub was rocking. You could hardly hear yourself think. Donleavy was up and down behind the bar like a man on roller skates. You would have expected the man – even with his bulk – to do a pirouette at the mid bar counter point. JP, Mono and Rasher were well into the spirit of things. Though they would always say that their preference was for a quiet Donleavy’s – the upbeat atmosphere was positively overwhelming. The lads were ensconced on their bar stools and the part of the bar counter which was their natural right was being respected. It was almost like they were holding court with the number of people who lined up to wish them all the very best for the festive season. There was very little time for our three amigos to discuss the important items of the day or the bigger aspects of life as hands were shook, backs were clapped, shoulders were grasped – and all in the most good humoured and cheerful way. Sometimes the well wishers were known to all three of our heroes and proceeded to greet from one to the other. Sometimes the greetings were specific to only one of the triumvirate. The net effect was that three-way conversation at these bar stools was almost impossible. But that was OK. Donleavy was keeping on top of the incoming provision of drink orders and they were never left in any feeling of insecurity of the continuity of supply. That was what was most important in ensuring a comfortable relaxed night out.
A gap in the line of well wishers appeared out of nowhere. The trio relaxed their shoulders, and all pointed their gaze towards the bar mirror and the array of spirit bottles in front of it. Only when they did this was there a realisation that their shoulders had been permanently angled away from the counter for the last while. It took a minute or two to relax them back into their natural positions. Shoulders were flexed individually and together. A natural equilibrium was restored. JP opened the conversation account with a pertinent observation.
“Well, lads. Looks like Christmas season has well an’ truly started.”
“Yeah. Forget ‘bout Christmas trees as a sign of Christmas. Donleavy’s throbbin’ with bodies – that’s the real indicator.”
“Too right. None of this turnin’ on the town lights stuff. When Donleavy puts his twinkly lights along the bar mirror. That’s the signal.”
They nodded in agreement. For this moment of harmony there was an ease with the world. Hardly likely to last. One or other or other would typically throw a grenade over the wall if the going got too good. Usually – it was JP. On this occasion it was Rasher. He already had that mischievous look in his eye.
“The real meanin’ of Christmas has been lost. Gone. Kaput. Dead.”
Rasher pursed his lips and issued a defiant stare to each in turn. Just lobbing the ball up in the air waiting for the smash return.
“Ah Jaysuz. Don’t start that craic.”
“Yeah. Feck it. That T-shirt is well worn out. Bin it.”
Rasher looked away, sucked in his cheeks, and stared into the middle distance.
“Ah now lads. That wasn’t the reaction I expected. D’ya not think we’ve embraced too much commercialism and that Christianity has been the loser.”
“Feck sake Rasher…. ‘Embraced too much commercialism’.”
“Jaysuz…’Christianity has been the loser’.”
“Have you feckin’ been listenin’ to too many podcasts again?”
“What the hell.”
Rasher put on a hurt luck on his face. But it was too feigned. He’d lost the dressing room at this stage. The two other lads just ignored him. But only momentarily. JP took up the baton and continued the relay.
“I will say somethin’.”
“Well – that will be unusual.”
“Yeah – like yer the quiet one.”
It was JP’s turn to now put on the feigned hurt expression.
“I will say somethin’.”
He said it again with menacing emphasis. Inviting Rasher and Mono to stop him in his tracks.
“I wish ya a Happy Christmas.”
The two lads were momentarily taken off balance. Rasher looked at Mono. Mono looked at Rasher. Mono felt he needed to make some response.
“Eh…yeah….like….Happy Christmas.”
Rasher still had a quizzical look on his face. Trying to regain some context. JP looked at them both again and replied even more determinedly.
“Have you go tha’? I wish ya a Happy bleedin’ Christmas.”
There were wavelengths crossing here. Rasher and Mono were picking up serious static. Rasher felt he need to pitch in at this point.
“OK. OK. A Happy shaggin’ Christmas to you too. Season’s feckin’ greetin’s. Yuletide bleedin’ joy. What the feck.”
There was a momentary silence. JP raised a finger in the air to secure more incoming from the Dancing Donleavy. Best to not take any chances with the supply chain. He looked at each of his drinking compatriots in turn. He allowed himself a smile. He picked up his glass and raised it in the air in a toast-like fashion.
“Cheers, gentlemen. I’m proud of ya. So very proud of ya both.”
The two lads had automatically raised their glasses without appreciation of what was actually going on. Glasses clinked. Mystery prevailed. Eyebrows were raised.
“It’s Christmas.”
Eyebrows were raised further.
“We feckin’ know tha’.”
“No. It’s Christmas. It’s not holidays. It’s feckin’ Christmas.”
Mono looked at Rasher. Rasher looked at Mono. Yes – it was Christmas – but there was a certain Christmas penny that didn’t seem to have dropped. That, and it seemed like JP was on FM whereas the two boys were on long wave. Dots were screaming against being joined.
The pints arrived which provided a favourable distraction. Dregs were drained, glasses rearranged, beer mat locations optimised. The sense of incompleteness would still not go away. Rasher couldn’t take in anymore.
“OK, JP. Wha’ the feck. Wha’ are ya witherin’ on abou’?”
JP gave a subliminal signal that initiated another round of synchronous drinking before he replied.
“Happy Holidays”, he said slowly and with a sneer on his face. “If any fecker even tries to wish me Happy Holidays – I swear – I’ll swing for him. It’s bleedin’ Christmas. Holidays are what ya do when you go to the coast or the campsite or the mountains or the hotel by the beach. This is shaggin’ Christmas.”
The two boys looked at each other and you could see the light bulb illuminate above each of their heads.
“You are so bleedin’ right.”
“Course I’m shaggin’ right.”
“World has gone mad.”
“Yeah. Next – it’ll be Happy Holidays that occur at the start of the year.”
“….or Happy Festival that we won’t call Yom Kippur.”
“….or Happy Not Eatin’ Sun Up to Sun Down that we won’t call Ramadan.”
They clinked their glasses in violent agreement and took another good slug.
A period of calm followed where the background noise of pub revelry was unbroken by our heroes. They were happy with their company and the contents of their pint glasses. Mono eased a question in.
“Will we go for chips after this?”
“Why break the habits of a lifetime.”
“Yeah – we’ll spoil ourselves with a battered sausage.”
“Better make sure to wish Donleavy a Happy Holiday in case we don’t see him again.”
“Watch it!”
Just another night in Donleavy’s.
JP@Donleavy’s 