The furore which seems to surround St Patrick's day is something which has always somewhat bemused me.
For example, St Andrew's Day is at the end of November. But Scots barely seem to notice this. On St Patrick's Day everyone comes out of the woodwork and heads straight for the pub for a pint or several hundred. I find this particularly funny in Glasgow given the hardcore sectarianism which is rife around here. You have people so bigoted that they don't want to own anything green (I think they're worried they might be infected by Glasgow Celtic and therefore Catholicism, something I find hilarious and disturbing at the same time) but are all too happy to jump on the St Paddy's bandwagon. Seems somewhat of a contradiction, methinks.
When I was a kid, my mum used to always make me wear something green on the 17th March. Since the day usually coincided with a schoolday and we had a uniform to wear, this usually meant I got green ribbons in my plaits. Which didn't really bother me, although I often thought I was a little old to still be wearing plaits! Although looking back I do find it a little odd that my mum felt the need to make me wear green. While I'm sure there's some irish roots in my family somewhere, she doesn't make me wear a Scottish flag on St Andrew's day. It seems odd I should be celebrating someone else's culture and not embracing my own.
My funniest St Patrick's memory was from two years ago. We arranged a work night out to coincide with St Patrick's day (I believe it was a Friday night) in the West End. I invited along one of my old flatmates, who hailed from Northern Ireland - and she LOVED the 17th March. "I'll be along shortly," she warned me via text, "and I'm dressed for St Patrick's day." I assumed this meant she was wearing some green and told my co-workers this. I had my back to the door of the pub, and about half an hour later, one of my colleagues said "Er - I think your flatmate just walked in." Man, HAD she! She was wearing a massive hat, a Guiness t-shirt and shamrock stickers on her cheeks. Oh, and she was pretty much the only person in the pub dressed remotely in celebration! I could have killed her at the time, but I suppose looking back it was pretty funny.
My best St Patrick's memory, however, is last night's memory. Forget going to the pub. When you're single and hating guys, what you REALLY need is a trip to Carling Academy to see Kelly Clarkson. Absolutely AMAZING! I sung along with all the man-hating lyrics, identified thoroughly with them, and realised that so many others out there singing along with more than likely identifying with them too. I could barely SEE Kelly herself due to the fact that everyone was in my way CONSTANTLY (just like at Travis - although it made me sad to remember that as my ex had taken me to that gig) and I nearly pulled the hair of the two girls in front of me as they kept just having conversations and getting their stupid UGLY HEADS IN MY WAY. But I resisted. And despite my gig-rage, it was an awesome night.