Irish emigrant Orla Carlin wrote this piece after hearing a live recording of Garron Noone and Chubby Cat singing ‘Fairytale of New York’ with the RTÉ Concert Orchestra.
Dear Fairytale of New York,
You’ve taken my hand and guided me through many episodes of my life.
You have helped me channel many emotions, wherever your lyrics were pulsating. Like an invisible glove.
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It started as a child at Christmas — happily dancing in my grandparents’ living room.
As I got older, you carried me through the years of parties, bars and clubs. Your words soothed me and gave me hope when I knew I had taken it a step too far.
From those anxious years of dancing with strangers to the years of hard work and study, you were always there.
As a student, washing dishes backstage at the King’s Hall in Belfast, the beats of the song echoed through my whole being. These busy weeks before Christmas, preparing food for celebrities, always felt exciting. But one night a chef’s clothes caught on fire. I had always thought actions came easily in a crisis. They didn’t for me. Luckily others came to the rescue.
Weeks later we dried the dishes again and watched you [The Pogues] live on stage. You brought me feelings of hope and second chances.
[ Fairytale of New York: The surprising story behind The Pogues’ Christmas anthemOpens in new window ]
Some believe there are three paths in life. Your phrases remind me of one that lay before me, though I only ever walked halfway.
It was the summer I spent at an Irish bar in New York aged 21. You reminded me of the Irish connection as I danced atop tables, with one too many. I was waiting for the Boys of the NYPD to take me home, as they once nearly did on the streets of Manhattan.
Maybe that path wasn’t for me but I would never have known unless I dipped my toes.
I danced vigorously to your words again, this time 11,000km away, in a desert pub in the Gulf. I was stuck in the sand during Covid. I felt united, at peace and somehow at home. Your couplets soothed my soul in the midst of a Christmas pandemic.
A journey through yoga followed. Yoga wasn’t something I thought I’d connect with this song. But I did a year later when I had finally returned to Ireland for Christmas. At my first yoga session on Christmas Eve, I was sober, happy, ready for the savasana. As my eyes closed for this final resting pose, your words came to me.
[ Shane MacGowan obituary: Outsider who became one of Ireland’s most feted sonsOpens in new window ]
Lying in Belfast on a mat, I gave into my body. I found myself back in my grandparents’ living room, dancing. A child again. The memories were vividly alive. I use yoga to escape. The musical vibrations followed. This time what you gave me was opaque. You brought my grandparents back to me And the bells rang out yet again, for Christmas Day.
And today I woke up in Dubai and heard your words. But through other singers on RTÉ. It was not better, not worse, just different. Still carrying your message into 2026, still stitching a hundred emotions into one. But the one that rises above all the others is relief.
Relief that maybe we never truly die, not as long as our songs keep finding us in new voices (thank you Garron Noone and Chubby Cat). You remind me of new mornings, new worlds and hope.
Orla Carlin is from Belfast, she lives in Dubai where she works in learning and development and is a freelance writer
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