Saint Patrick vs Standy-still statues: a measure of how cosmopitan we’ve become

Every Saint Patrick’s Day brings a flurry of fresh analysis about ourselves as a nation and a perspective on how Irish society is changing. In The Irish Times on Saturday we were treated to the wonderful Fintan O’Toole – and others – navel-gazing on Irishness and the changing face (quite literally) of the country. One in ten of us now, it seems, is born outside the country. And while – day-to-day – we thankfully seem to be losing a lot of the cuddly, chatty stage-oirish image of the past, I’m frankly a bit concerned about how quickly many of us don false Leprechaun beards (Gerry Adams not included) and play the part of the caricatured Bog Paddy.

Meanwhile, a cynical friend of mine claims that the direction our society is going in is reflected by the growing number of those “standy-still statue people” that grace our town and city centres – two of them were spotted in Belfast yesterday, he says. He claims that these people are an under-represented and much put upon minority in our society. People don’t just poke fun at them – they actually poke them in attempts to elicit a response or simply just to make them blink. He says that it is standy-still people - not beardy leprechauns – that point the way forward. More statue-people, he cries out over his chablis, less of the old blarney. I think he has a point in all of this, especially when you look back at the time when the country was besotted by moving statues. We certainly have come a long way since. So maybe it’s time we all stood up for statues.

Start your day the Oirish way

Here’s another clip for the day that was in it yesterday – the first Lucky Charms commercial. Thanks to American Copywriter for this. Click the link below for a US angle on wordsmithery.

Only in America: leprechaun speed trap

There are times when the expression seeing is believing just has to be used. This is one of them.

Armenian buskers, Bairbre de Brún & grey skies: it must be Saint Patrick’s Day in Belfast

 

Greetings fellow Gaels – I hope your St Patrick’s Day festivities were as good as ours.

Because of the day that’s in it, I may break into rud beag Gaeilge anois is arís as I bring you this eye-witness account of events in the northern capital of this sceptred isle. So if you don’t understand the native tongue of the Gael, gabh mo leithscéil.

I have to begin by saying that the day started on a veritable and unexpected high when my son burst into our room with his violin (sorry, fiddle). ‘Let’s get this party started,’ he cried before launching into St Patrick’s Reel – something he had been secretly practising all week. Bullaí fir!

Cascades  of presents were then heaped upon God Save Ireland because today also happens to be my birthday. (My parents obviously thought that it might be a bit of a predictable cliché to simply call me Patrick. So after much thought they opted for God Save Ireland. Incidentally, my brother was born on the 4th of July when the family were on holidays in New York. So naturally he was called God Bless America. Our sister – Advance Australia Fair – was born in Earl’s Court in London.)

But I digress. Mrs GSI quickly rounded up all the children and we made our way into the city centre (lár na cathrach). We assumed it was going to start ag cur fearthaine (raining) so we looked a bit like the Michelin family as we proceeded to City Hall (Halla na Cathrach), following the lilting sound of music that sounded distinctly non-patriotic. And sure enough, as we rounded a corner, there they were – a very lively bunch of elderly Armenian buskers who were belting it out on accordians, trumpets and guitars. I assume that the tune was their treatment of Hail Glorious Saint Patrick, but it swung a little too much, so níl a fhios agam.

By this stage, we were half an hour late for the official beginning of the parade (tús na paróide). As it turned out, we were actually half an hour early for the actual beginning of the parade (tús na paróide).

Although it was officially billed as the St Patrick’s Day Parade (Paróid Lá Fhéile Padraig) it might just as well have been billed The Irish Papier Maché Parade (Paróid Pháipéir Maché na hÉireann) such was the amount of hardened wet paper that passed  us. All painted forty shades of green of course.

The SDLP Mayor of the city – Cllr Pat McCarthy – led the first stilt walker (fear mór) out of the gates of City Hall and we were off. There followed three more stilt walkers who wowed the large group of spectators. This is going to be good, thought everybody!

Alas, the third of the stilt walkers was followed by a school group who interpreted the theme of St Patrick by wearing their football kit and doing keepie-uppies. (Who knows – maybe St Patrick supported The Southampton ‘Saints’ or St Patrick’s Athletic or just plain old Man Utd.)

Then came lots of little school groups. And more little school groups. And even more little school groups.

Thankfully, the sequence was broken by none other than one of our MEPs – Sinn Féin’s Ms Bairbre de Brún – who seemed to have a whole section of the parade to herself and her two minders. With Cllr McCarthy of the SDLP leading the parade, Mrs GSI pointed out that this was probably the only time in recent memory when Sinn Féin trailed the SDLP on anything.

So we dutifully stood and watched the end of the parade (deireadh na paróide) before we popped across the road to do some Mother’s Day shopping (siopadóireacht Lá Fhéile Mamaí). We then had a very posh lunch and watched the Irish rugby team battle against Italy in the sunshine of Rome. It then suddenly dawnwed on me why there were so many of us poor people out watching the parade in wintry Ireland – all the rich Irish people were off in Rome watching the rugger and sipping Frascati in the sun. Ah well, at least we saw Bairbre de Brún strutting her funky stuff down Royal Avenue.

We then left the centre of this beautiful city and headed home to our own part of this beautiful city, passing through one of the many British sectors of this beautiful city. These sectors don’t actually celebrate St Patrick’s Day as all that Irishness is too offensive to them. Too much green. Too much Gaeilge (barraíocht Ghaeilge). Not enough keepie-uppie.

Pity they didn’t know about the Armenians. Who could be offended by that?