My dear pledgers, I shall be thinking of you this festive season. If it weren't for you, my book wouldn't be where it is now - on its way to being published. I have been told that the special edition (heavier paper, better binding etc) should reach you for St Patrick's Day. (I suppose if you're in Kiribati or Ouagoudougou it might take a little longer.)
I thought I'd just share a couple of Christmas thoughts with you. In Ireland of old, Christmas Eve was a fast day. Not a bad idea, perhaps. Many people waited until the main meal, which was often fish - stockfish with a white sauce and, naturally, potatoes. But they didn't hold to that the entire day. In the evening, the cake was cut into and tea was produced for some, punch for others. The children were given apples and sweets, although few families went to bed without saying prayers together. In honour of the scene at the Bethlehem, the cows and asses were given a rich feed of corn.
On Christmas Day itself, while the womenfolk were preparing one of the richest meals of the year, the men and older children went off to the hurling pitch or else went hunting, coming home with prodigious appetites and ready to do justice to the dinner. It was often the custom to sip salted water three times before the meal, for the sake of one's health in the coming year.
And the poor wren made the most of Christmas Day, since it would be relentlessly hunted down the following day, St Stephen's Day, when the bodies of several wrens were paraded around by the Wren Boys, who went from house to house, playing music, singing and collecting money. For the funeral!
I wonder if I'll have the courage to fast on Christmas Eve? I think it might create a damper on the proceedings. But I might have my three sips of salted water! And I'll raise a glass to you all. I wish you health and happiness now and in the coming year!