We did it. Just about. But was it worth it? The jury's still out on that one...
No, it's not colonic irrigation I am talking about. Nor plucking a chicken, shoe-shopping with Sophie, combing Emma's hair, or climbing Mount Everest. I speak of one of life's rather simple tasks, which has become something it should not be: a nightmare of gigantic proportions. Yes, you've guessed it: Christmas shopping.
I will not go into the commercial nature that is now Christmas, nor the fact that we are in the midst of a recession, and Ireland is one of the worst-hit countries in Europe, yet spends over €1000 per capita on presents, getting itself even more into debt...
All I want to talk about it the craziness that is Grafton Street, Henry Street, Jervis Street, Dundrum Town Centre - you name it - on the second Saturday in December.
Maybe it was because of the big freeze we had for the last 12 days or so, and when the thaw set in, it we swarmed to the shops in droves, afraid that stocks would deplete before we even entered our first store. All I can say is: Oh My God!
People rushing. People pushing. Grumpy faces everywhere. Children crying. Children standing next to their parents with bored expressions on their faces. Husbands standing next to their wives with pained expressions on their faces. Wives standing next to scores of women at the bargain baskets, with I'm-ready-to-go-into-battle faces, but it was difficult to discern whether it was a) out of pure pain not knowing what to pick, and for whom, but definitely not letting that bargain pass them by; b) due to the pain of having maxed yet another credit card; or c) due to the pain in their right foot as another, pointier, woman's heel dug itself deeper into its rival's foot - who was she to grab that bargain from under her nose!
It was bedlam. And that was just the first shop.
And some shops were obviously trying different things, new things, to lure in the shoppers or evoke that Christmas spirit. But it didn't always work. Take, for example, a well-known store strategically situated at the top of Grafton street. Oh, sod it, you all know which one I mean: Brown Thomas. The window decorations were gorgeous. The special offers were sparkling. And then we looked up, when, after 2 weeks of chaos on our roads, freezing pipes, waterless houses and mass hospitalisations, some bright spark in the marketing department of said store decides to plant a snow machine right above the main double doors, and it starts spouting out some more of the white stuff.
I had to laugh when I heard one young blonde say to her rather efflorescent red-haired friend in the most brilliant Dublin accent:
"Ah, here. As if we hadn't enough of dat - more snow? Are they flamin jokin? The fecking eejits, we'll all run a mile..."
And I decided to keep that smile on my face, turn to John, who was just trying to read the list of presents we still had to get for aunts, cousins, friends and neighbours, whilst being tugged in the direction of a group of young people playing a rather impressive version of "Jingle Bells"...
"Do you know what, John? Let's go grab lunch somewhere and then just get one or two things today... and then go home. What's the point of subjecting ourselves to this when we can do most of our shopping online?"
I know, it might be the end of foot to door retail as we know it. But most mortals I know are unable to withstand the torture of this bedlam without a tantrum. And this is NOT what Christmas is supposed to be about.
I say: Jump in, soak up the atmosphere and get out again before your hurt yourself.
Happy Christmas you all. I'll be on again in a few days...
Amy x
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