Childhood memories grow fonder over time, especially at this time of year. Michael Kellyleads a chorus of nostalgia
Christmas day in our house involved a tortuous ritual. We had to go to early Mass and have breakfast before we were allowed to get our presents. In fairness to my parents, it was probably a good thing since we saw little point in getting up at four in the morning if we weren't going to get our presents for another five hours. So we would stay in bed instead. Outside Mass I would listen enviously to friends from school talking breathlessly about the two or three hours of quality playtime they had under their belts already. They would ask what I got from Santa and I would just redden and mumble "don't know yet".
I was never sure how I felt about that. I was definitely a tad envious of them and yet there was some other emotion there, too. Even though I hated the fact that my parents made me wait, I was also sort of glad because now I had all the excitement ahead of me while they were already on the far side of theirs. It was like Christmas was almost over for them; all they had left was the Christmas dinner (not too many kids see that as the high point of the day) and ads on British TV for "Boxing Day" sales. For me, it was all just beginning.
Each year when we got our selection boxes, my sister Dara always kept everyone's favourite bar, the Curly Wurly, until St Stephen's Day, when we had eaten ours. She could then take her time deciding whether to give us some or hold back and deny us. I always felt in awe of her self-restraint and the resulting power that it gave her. Outside Mass with my friends was the only time I ever got an inkling of what self-restraint felt like. It was probably my first experience of knowing the strange pleasure to be gained from abstinence.
The torture didn't end when we got home from Mass. We then had to sit down at the breakfast table and wait for my mother to cook breakfast. It always seemed to take an eternity. There was a rule that nobody could start eating until everyone had a plate of food in front of them, so we used to stack chunks of sausage, rashers, toast, egg and YR sauce on to our forks and have that first mouthful ready for annihilation. That was allowed. Then, finally, my mother would sit down and we would try to shove that mountain of food-on-a-fork into our mouths. We then had to wait until everyone was finished eating before we left the table. Unfortunately, since it was Christmas, that meant that my two grandmothers and my great aunt were visiting and they would nibble each morsel thoroughly, just to compound the agony. I seem to recall they also had a bowl of porridge to consume before they started on their fry-up, and then there was a plethora of pills to take.
The suspense would reach a crescendo. Santa always delivered the toys directly to our sittingroom and placed little piles of presents for each of us in different corners of the room. He also put a chair in front of the door just in case a child would finally crack under the pressure and try to break down the door. We would all line up (youngest first, me) outside the sittingroom until my father took down the chair and then, all rules finally exhausted, we would emit squeals of happiness.
The great thing about Santa was that he always delivered. I remember once at Confession (I was probably about seven) asking the priest was it a sin to prefer Santa to God and he informed me gravely that it was. I was always torn in terms of loyalties when it came to weighing up who I preferred. Santa or God? Daddy or chips? It seemed right to prefer God, but on the other hand, Santa seemed so much more, well . . . reliable. He showed up each year, and left evidence of his visit. God's hand was always invisible. You asked Santa in a letter for a new bike and a month later, the big man delivered. On time. To budget. You asked God for something in a prayer and well, let's just say his batting average wasn't as high. Sometimes it worked; sometimes it didn't. God could send fire and pestilence and the plague. Santa often talked about lumps of coal if you were bad, but he always relented. He was an old softy.
I was delighted to discover one year that he had found time to write me a note. I remember being enthralled by it - even more so than with the Lego set I got from him that year. That note was a link to an ethereal other world; like being able to hold the Turin shroud for 20 minutes and give it a good once-over. When I was very young my sister woke me on Christmas Eve to hear the sleigh bells, which were undoubtedly impressive, but this note was something far more tangible. I didn't need to have faith or to believe or any of that hard stuff - I could just see. I wouldn't admit as much to the priest, or anyone else for that matter, but I couldn't help thinking as I held that note tightly: I wish God was more like Santa.
MAEVE HIGGINS, comedian
I often revert to my childhood at Christmas time. I get a pain in my tummy from eating too much. I start crying when Indiana Jones loses his hat and has to grab it in that dangerous way. I also sulk about how cool my brother's presents are, compared to mine. Why does he always get the brilliant book about spaceships while I'm stuck with corrective shoes? It's tough when Santa stops bringing presents so, to make it easier for kids, I am in the process of inventing many more delightful characters. In addition to Santa, the Toothfairy and the Easter Bunny, I propose the following characters be welcomed into homes across Ireland:
First, the Saving Goblin. This creature will visit children at the end of the tax year and leave 10 per cent of their savings under their account book, but only if they have kept their receipts. He will look not unlike a tiny Eddie Hobbs, except with a tiger's head and a green, ethereal glow, and will travel mainly by DART.
The Resistance Troll will concentrate only on children who get a hard time for being one of a kind. He will be slightly scary, but definitely worth believing in. He will be instantly recognisable due to his height, 9ft without heels, and his scent, a mixture of lamb chops and patchouli oil.
Most memorable childhood present: The Chronicles Of Narnia. My parents gave me the whole series when I was nine. It was like my parents, with the help of CS Lewis, had given me a return ticket to a different planet, and I lived there happily for ages. I still dream of meeting a faun by a lamp post, though I suppose if I did, I'd panic and call the faun helpline. They sure are freaky little fellows.
Maeve Higgins's Mildly Spectacular Christmas Show is on in Andrew's Lane theatre from December 17th to 23rd. All profit goes to UNICEF's Darfur fund.
GISÈLE SCANLON, author of The Goddess Guide(HarperCollins)
I was lucky; Santa came to our house until I was 12. Before that, he would leave our goodies wrapped in huge bags with our names on them under the tree in the living room. Every year my sister and brother would wake me and I would lead them downstairs to inspect the loot.
I absolutely loved Santa, especially the year he brought me a bike (I was seven). That Christmas we woke up to the sound of bells, and my grandfather explained that we had just missed the reindeers and Santa's sleigh. It was pure magic. When Santa eventually stopped bringing pressies it wasn't traumatic at all. We still got great gifts, so the transition was painless. I do remember running crying one day to my favourite teacher, Mrs Baker, to ask her if Santa was real and she said: "Do you believe in the Holy Spirit, do you believe in God and do you believe in Jack Frost, even though you can't see them?" I answered yes. "You see? You don't always have to see something to believe in it," she explained.
I've been visiting Santa with my pals, sitting on his knee and having a picture taken, for years. A picture of poor Santa trying to escape from me makes for a great laugh popped up on the mantelpiece next to pictures of me on his knee when I was very young.
Most memorable childhood present: The present that gave me goose bumps with excitement was a grey, plastic Lilliput 2000 typewriter with a red plastic handle, which I received when I was 10. I used it for so many little projects, cataloguing flowers and leaves and sticking the typed names into my notebooks. I still have it on my desk.
ROSEANNA DAVISON, Model
To me, Christmas is a great time to meet up with friends and family I haven't seen for a while. I think that from the start of December onwards people sub-consciously relax a little and get in to party mode. I know it's really hectic and so on, but I do think we are more chilled out at the same time. I also think Christmas really breaks up the bad weather.
I vividly remember the moment I found out that Santa wouldn't be bringing me presents any more. I was in South Africa on holidays when I was about seven or eight years old. My cousin was with us; she used to come on our holidays a lot. We used to get on well, but she was that little bit older and so was sort of superior towards me. We were in my mum's room when it happened, I think. I was devastated at the time, but afterwards I think it didn't really change things. I still loved Christmas, and the magic of it all.
I think the whole idea of Santa is great, so parents deliberately not letting him in to their children's lives is just unfathomable. It gives so much more than it takes away. In any case, Santa is everywhere in western culture so it's kind of hard to escape him, thankfully.
Most memorable childhood present: I have this really vivid memory of being maybe four or five years old and waking up and there was a big Fisher Price kitchen from Santa. There was a little oven and microwave and lots of little plastic plates and cups. I got many happy years out of that present, playing chef, but I can't say that it translated into a love of cooking
DAVE FANNING, RTÉ broadcaster
I still love Christmas, and the whole build-up to it. I enjoy it all. I love the clichés, the trees and presents and all that. In fact, I love the whole month of December. I always get sort of nostalgic around Christmas, thinking 'God I hope we will all be here this time next year'. And I still hate it when Christmas is over. Those few weeks after Christmas are like a bunch of Sundays all rolled in to one.
How sad is this - I don't particularly remember when Santa stopped bringing me presents. I was the youngest of seven, so things were that little bit looser by the time I got to 10 or 11. I think I was probably about 10 at the time, though I can't say I remember the actual moment. I do remember before then the whole excitement around Santa, and how important it was, but it wasn't this life-altering event. I still loved Christmas.
I have three kids now aged from three to 13 and it definitely helps the Christmas spirit that Santa is bringing presents for some of them. It seems to me that at about 10 years of age things go a bit pear-shaped for them. My 11-year-old in particular was really inquisitive about how it all works.
Most memorable childhood present: I'd say it was when I was around 13 or 14. I got about a dozen vinyl albums from people and that boosted my record collection so much that I think collectively it was my best present ever. I also remember another year getting eight or nine end-of-year annuals. Remember them? I used to love them, and getting a lot of them like that was great.
MATT COOPER, Presenter of The Last Wordon Today FM
Santa Claus is the disciplinarian in our house. Or rather, he is used for that purpose without his knowledge or permission. He is the intended recipient of a number of threatened text messages, e-mails and phone calls during the months of November and December. My wife Aileen and I warn of the possibility that we will be forced to do the unthinkable if the behaviour of any of our children does not return to acceptable norms. We will be forced to contact Santa to tell him that one of the poorly behaved girls or boys in our house should not be visited on Christmas morning.
This may qualify as unconscionable behaviour in the eyes of child protection agencies, but it is a good way of maintaining control in a house where the eldest girl won't be eight until January, the second will be six in the same month, the third girl has just turned four, and the first boy is just two and a half. The baby was born in mid-October, so he'll get something from Santa but won't know or understand.
I'm glad to say that the only communications with Santa this year are the traditional letters that the two eldest girls write and send on their own behalf and for their siblings. On Christmas Eve they will put a can of Guinness, a mince pie and a carrot for Rudolph at the fireplace. And for the following 10 months we have to devise new and humane means of child crowd control.
Most memorable childhood present: My best present was a bicycle which I got from Santa when I was four. But I also remember a year earlier getting building blocks when I wanted Lego, and being distraught at Santa treating me like a baby. My mother had to argue that Santa had been worried about my safety in case I'd swallow a piece. I couldn't believe he'd think I'd be so stupid.
TOM PARLON, Progressive Democrats, Minister of State at the Department of Finance
One of the memories I have is that my grandmother used to make ginger-wine. It was non-alcoholic and we would get some on Christmas day and it was such a treat. The smell of it. It was roasting hot, like eating a hot curry. I remember trips to early Mass on Christmas morning. We would be going to the monastery in Roscrea and coming home and it would be still dark and freezing cold. There was always farm work to do as well, so it wasn't a day off.
It's a long time ago now, obviously, but I'm sure I was about 10 when Santa stopped bringing me presents. I was the eldest in my family, so it was quite sensitive information, and my parents were keen that I keep it to myself. It didn't have much of an impact on me. I suppose I was still excited that Santa was coming to my younger siblings. In rural Ireland back in the 1960s Santa's largesse was somewhat limited anyway. Things were frugal. I always remember my sister getting a dolls' house which my mother had made herself, as a present from my parents, and she was delighted to get it.
I got a huge kick out of Santa coming to my own children, so it sort of goes full circle. The lead-up was so busy; you would be lucky to get to bed at three in the morning and sure you would only be in bed a few hours and one of them would be up. I think I got a bigger kick out of it as a parent than I did when I was a kid myself.
Most memorable childhood present: I got a Meccano set one year - you know the ones you can make trucks or machines from - and I remember spending hours at it. The big thing was trying to keep my brothers away from it. I remember being so excited, asking for it, then waiting for it and then finally it arriving.
SARAH McDONNELL, Editor of The Gloss
Being the last child of four, I suspect my family was glad I was around to ensure Santa would still be coming to our house. I wondered about such a fat man squeezing through a chimney opening, but we had a wide, 1960s fireplace in our house, which I would regard speculatively in quiet moments. There were other signs too; the half-eaten mince pie and glass of beer, clearly consumed in haste since there were crumbs everywhere.
There was no horrible, life-changing moment when he stopped bringing presents. It was a painless transition from dolls' house to piles of clothes and records. Santa Claus was without doubt the most fascinating character of my childhood. With my five-year-old daughter, May, I can relive the magic all over. Those little eyes can spot a fake from a mile off, so I won't take her to visit a man in a bad velour suit in some miserable Barna building in a shopping centre.
Santa's best experienced in the pages of a book, and in her own mind, where she can imagine him any way she pleases. She has taught me some new things about him too; he eats snowflakes instead of cornflakes and is a very good skier.
I still admire Santa. He manages a large organisation and his elves work hard, but are happy. He's powerful, timeless and has a good sense of humour. Also Mrs Claus and himself seem to have an excellent marriage.
Most memorable childhood present: A wonderful dolls' house I got when I was about 11. I guess that was my most memorable gift. Another year my dad designed a beautiful desk and had it made for me, and kept it hidden till Christmas morning. That was pretty special, too.