If you are to look at any depiction of Christmas, on a card for example, or perhaps on some of the tackier Christmas tree decorations that have pictures on them, you will usually be confronted with one of two archetypal images. The first will be a depiction of a family gathered around a crackling hearth, their rosy-cheeks warmed by the soft, dappled golden light, the paraphernalia of Christmas surrounding them; the second will be of a delicate suburban or rural landscape blanketed in soft, muffling snow. They are supposed to be represent the quintessence of Christmas.
We all know these images to be lies. If they wanted to truly represent Christmas, what they would show is a person staggering through an overly congested shopping precinct on December 23, clutching several shopping bags containing some very perfunctory and underwhelming last minute gift purchases while they grapple with the remains of a tattered umbrella that is having the arse torn off it by a howling gale. This is the essence of Christmas, and yet the truth of the situation is denied to us. The buildup to Christmas in Ireland, far from containing snow and serenity, is a maelstrom of anxiety and levels of wind and rain that can, at best, be described as 'utter dogshit'.
Well, this weekend looks set to deliver weather of this kind in abundance. Met Éireann have issued two weather warning for Saturday, a yellow warning for wind and one for rain. The two warnings are both in place for the entirety of Saturday, however Met Éireann have said that there is the possibility of them being upgraded to orange warnings due to the severity of the weather.
If you are looking to engage in any festive themed activity this weekend, for the love of all that's holy, I would cancel it if it were not indoors. There is a strong (incredibly weak) possibility that we may all become trapped by the oncoming inclement weather. A possibility that gale-force winds and flash-floods will ravage the country, forcing us to all withdraw indoors, where we will attempt to hold out through the storm. A possibility that, when the horrendous weather eventually subsides and we look to emerge blinking into the light, hoping to rebuild what's left of society, that the emergency services that arrive at the remains of our homes to rescue us will be unable to free our bodies, so engorged on several days of having to survive exclusively on mince-pies and tins of Roses, from the rubble. A possibility that they will have to leave us, trapped. A possibility that all of society will collapse.
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Or that it will just be some generally unpleasant weather. Keep an eye on Met Éireann's Twitter for any further updates.
