Just another day in Paradise
St Patrick’s Day.
Or Paddy’s Day.
Or [if you are one of those totally brain-dead Americans on Twitter] Patty’s Day.
As a kid I remember all the fuss of putting on my Sunday Best and having a lump of weed attached to my lapel before heading off for Mass. On a couple of occasions I vaguely remember seeing a parade. Of course in those days the parade consisted of various vans, tractors and lorries celebrating their owners’ business. There were even a few pipe bands [bagpipes, that is and the sound of the drummers always announced their arrival before they were actually visible. Innocent times.
Things seem to have changed.
The old parade seems to have evolved into a sort of Mardi Gras with outrageous costumes and floats that must have taken months to build. There has to be a team of kids doing an American marching band thing where they dance and swing as they play. Naturally the parade is “inclusive” and “celebrating diversity” so there are a lot of nationalities and LGBQWERTY– displays. There will doubtless be several floats reminding us that the climate is going to kill us all in a couple of day’s time.
Good luck to ’em.
Good luck to all those who think being Irish means wearing big green floppy hats and false orange beards [not to mention inflatable hammers – what the fuck?].
I don’t mind any of it any more. I can happily cringe in silence while the world pretends to be Irish and goes mad for a day. I’m all for people enjoying themselves. May they get hammered on Guinness and may their hangovers be massive. May the Guards who are out in force to catch drunk drivers catch frostbite instead [fucking spoilsports].
Join in and have some craic. Or don’t. No skin off my nose.
Enjoy yourselves. Be Irish. Have fun. Get happy.and drunk.
Be Irish and Proud.
But not necessarily Gay Proud.
“Or [if you are one of those totally brain-dead Americans on Twitter] Patty’s Day.”
I’m Not totally brain dead as yet, but there is still time.
The only Patty I knew lived a few doors down from us and I was given to understand that there was no way on God’s green earth that sainthood was in her future.
Right! Patti or Patty is in fact a derivative[?] of Patricia and is female as distinct from Paddy or Pat which derive from Patrick who identifies as male [can’t be too careful these days?].
A patty is a circle of mince, itself containing onion, carrot,etc. burger shaped, encased in a mashed tattie shroud, with various other grains or veg incorporated into the mash. Probably what is festering in the bottom of the veg basket.
As with all good healthy food it is deep fried, preferably in dripping or lard.
Surprisingly enough, despite its healthy properties, it is not of Scottish origin.
Too many veg I would guess.
I’m becoming an expert in this subject! Yes, there is indeed a Scottish Patti or Pattie, not to be confused with the Cornish Pasty.
Or if you are an ex British Army soldier that knew too many colleagues murdered by the taigs, I don’t ever want to celebrate St Patricks day.
Those taigs were a tiny minority and should not be confused by the vast majority who abhorred the violence [myself included]. Please don’t confuse he two.
Like many a mongrel in the UK, some of my ancestors were potato famine refugees but I’ve never considered that tenuous historic link adequate to justify any cosmetic display of pseudo-Irishness once a year.
But then most of us also have a smattering of Viking, a soupcon of Norman, a splash of Roman and some good old Anglo-Saxon to boot – if all the individual genetic components of your average Brit had their own special day, we’d all be pissed all year round.
As a fellow mongrel residing in the Emerald Isle, I spent my St Patricks planting while the Irish celebrated a Welsh medieval preacher who was surprised that a great many Irish were Christian already.
It’s like St George to the English, St David to the Welsh or St Andrew to the Scots etc. A good excuse for a day off.
Sure you’ve been here a couple of months now so you’re within an ass’s roar of being Irish. Bill O’Sticker?
It’s amazing how many consider themselves Irish on Paddy’s day. If they all came “home” for the day than the island would sink under the weight.
As for myself – I’m a thoroughbred mongrel. I am definitely Irish though my Mother was English and my Grandmother was French so presumably I am Celt, Anglo Saxon, Norman, probably Scandinavian and a few others no doubt.
I have tried explaining the Ireland, Scotland English Welsh thing to Americans.
Once I have explained that the Scots came from Ireland, Saint Patrick was a Welshman and the guys who ruled England were the Normans who had originally came from Scandinavia, Bonnie Prince Charlie could neither speak English or what ever the Scots were speaking then, the British Isles include Ireland, Great Britain does not include any part of Ireland, But the United Kingdom includes England,Scotland, Wales and that wee bit up in the top right corner of Ireland – Norn Iron, the eyes glaze over and they ask what I would like and I say A large Highland Park with no ice. No ice? Yes because American bar tenders fill the tumbler up with crushed ice and then top the glass up with the whisky. But they do the same if there is no ice in the glass. We’re no daft ye ken.
Meanwhile for your overseas visitors here is how Saint Patrick’s Day as well as Not Saint Patrick’s Days should be observed.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VI-WRb2u4po
Granpa, maybe you should get a pet brick.
That about sums it in a nutshell. I couldn’t be more concise myself.
I wonder if bricks leave turds all over the place?