HEART BEAT:Fond memories of Christmas without the political turkeys, writes MAURICE NELIGAN
IT WAS JAMES Callaghan who noted that “it’s the first time in recorded history that turkeys had been known to vote for an early Christmas”. He was referring to the fact that his de facto “coalition” supporters had withheld their support for his Labour government, which duly fell.
There were the usual two chances that our rafter of turkeys would take the same sort of principled stand for the less well off in our midst. They had their stockings filled, in best Irish fashion, and they were hardly going to bite the hand that fed them and precipitate an election. It was better, they felt, to hang together rather than hang separately. So it’s Christmas postponed for the rest of us and we’ll just have to join David Begg and his mates in the long grass and await our turn.
In the meantime I’m going to forget problems of the present and remember events from Christmases past. In my medical student days augmenting your income for the expenses of student life was an indispensable part of existence. It was independent money and obviated the requirement of explaining to the parents where all the money was going and thereby sparing yourself the inevitable “when I was your age” lecture.
At Christmas time I usually worked for an uncle who had a large pub. On one particular night a customer fell on the road outside and sustained what I later knew to be a Potts’ fracture. The uncle volunteered me for first aid duty while he rang for an ambulance.
The injured party was already well anaesthetised from the pain aspect but was seriously disturbed by the fact that after his fall one of the bystanders had made off with his brown paper parcel, or to the more well brought up among you, his half-dozen stout. I learned several new words that night as I waited for the ambulance.
Two paramedics jumped out. One of the onlookers volunteered that I was a doctor. I hastily downgraded this to medical student whereupon the paramedic asked me at what stage. I sotto voce muttered that I was a second med. “Ah for Jaysus sake,” he said and I was out of the equation.
Many of my fellow students obtained employment delivering the Christmas post. In those far-off days everybody sent everybody else a Christmas card and the students staggered around delivering rain forests of reindeer and Santas and acres of insincere greetings. The job finished on Christmas Eve and the student postmen gathered in our hostelry to drink the season’s greetings.
On one occasion upon arrival from the depot we encountered a fellow student, later a very well-known obstetrician, who had obviously been ensconced in the pub for some time. We asked how he had done the round so quickly. “Simple,” he replied, “I posted them all again in the nearest post box.”
The good Sisters in the Mater looked after us very well throughout my Christmases there. Work tended to intrude but, that apart, everybody tried to make life as pleasant as possible for patients and indeed for ourselves.
Every department held a party and a strong constitution was of the essence. One memorable year we invited the consultant staff to drinks in the residence after midnight mass. The consultant who was nominally in charge of the residence gravely informed us that alcohol was forbidden in the hospital and accordingly the function could not proceed. That was news to us and we just went on without them.
Things changed with marriage. I think this sometimes happens. At the time of our first independent turkey I mentioned to the Highest Authority that my mother made exceptional giblet soup and that chestnut stuffing was a necessity for a proper bird. Looking back over the years I think I might have chosen the wrong time to impart this information; otherwise I simply did not realise how fundamentally the rules had changed. This was reinforced for me some years later when some kind patient presented me with a goose. I duly presented the bird at home and suggested that it might be nice to have it for the New Year. My timing must have been off again. The HA told me that that was fine with her provided the goose could cook itself and what was more did I think that turkeys cooked themselves or that the Christmas table just happened?
I wish you all a very happy Christmas especially the ground-down HAs. May you all be fully appreciated. To the gentlemen, may you never lead with your chin.