I'm shaken awake at some ridiculous hour – we're talking, like, eight o'clock in the morning. And Sorcha – I shit you not – goes, "Johnny Sexton is at the front door."
I'm like, "Johnny Sexton? Johnny actual Sexton?"
"Yeah, he said Ireland are playing – I think – Italy soon and he's having one or two issues with his kicking that he thought you might be able to, like, help him with?"
'Ross, <em>everyone</em> is doing their shopping early this year – in case we end up going to Level 5 again.'
I throw back the duvet, hop out of bed and step into my chinos, all in one fluid movement, then I rush out onto the landing going, “Jesus, Sorcha, how many times have I said we should have a fireman’s pole for this very much emergency?”
I take the stairs like my old dear takes her Mortinis – three at a time and without even looking.
At the same time, I’m going, “I’m sorry for keeping you waiting, Maestro.”
Except when I arrive downstairs, there’s no Johnny Sexton, just the triplets, standing there with their coats on them.
I’m like, “For fock’s sake, Sorcha!”
And she goes, “I’m sorry, Ross, it’s the only way to get you out of bed.”
"I can't believe I keep falling for it. Hang on, did you actually Google who Ireland were playing next?"
“No, I texted Ryle Nugent.”
“Yeah, that’s the behaviour of a psychopath, Sorcha.”
"So I was looking at Lauren's Instagram last night. She's got – oh my God – all of her Christmas shopping done! She even has her presents wrapped!"
“It’s October, Sorcha.”
“So?”
"So? You're the one who has a total knicker-fit if I open the Quality Street before Halloween."
"This year is different. There's, like, a pandemic on, in case you haven't noticed?"
"Oh, that's why there's five hundred rolls of Andrex four-ply quilted in the attic?"
"Ross, everyone is doing their shopping early this year – in case we end up going to Level 5 again."
“Okay, so where am I going exactly?”
"I want you to take the boys to Smyths to buy their presents."
Of course I have no choice but to comply? It'll tell you where my head is at that I still go, "I feel like an idiot for asking this, Sorcha, but when I open this door, is Johnny Sexton going to be standing on the other side?"
She’s like, “No, he’s not.”
And, true enough, he isn't. But that's not the biggest shock of the morning. That ends up coming when I pork in Carrickmines and see the queue outside the, like, store?
There must be, like, 200 people waiting outside. They’ve obviously been looking at Lauren’s Instagram as well because they’ve all had the exact same idea.
“The fock is this shit?” Leo goes, as we join the back of the line.
I’m like, “Yeah, no, good point. We’re getting your Christmas presents today, kids. You just point at whatever you want and I’ll stick it in the trolley. Although you’ll obviously have to wait until the big day to open it.”
I can straight away see the confusion on his little face.
He's like, "Santa brings presents."
And I’m there, “Yeah, no, he does.”
“So why the fock are you buying presents if Santa focking brings them?”
One or two parents look back at me and smile in a sort of, like, children-say-the-dornedest things kind of way.
I’m there, “Yeah, no, hang on, Leo, let me think this through before answering.”
"There's no such thing as Santa," Johnny goes – and you can imagine the ripple of excitement that sends through the crowd.
I can hear kids turning around to their olds and going, "Mommy, that boy said there was no such thing as Santa!" and people are turning around and giving me total filthies, like I was the one who said it?
I’m there, “Of course there’s such a thing as Santa!” trying to repair the situation.
"So why the fock are you buying our presents?" Brian now wants to know – and I'm, like, hating Sorcha for putting me in this position.
I’m there, “Errr,” trying to think on my feet. “Yeah, no, unfortunately, Santa can’t make it this year.”
Johnny’s like, “Why not?”
"I don't know, I think he's, like, sick?"
It’s definitely the wrong thing to say in the current climate.
“Does Santa have Covid?” Johnny goes.
A little girl standing with her old dear in front of us turns around with a look of, like, horror on her face.
I’m like, “No, Santa doesn’t have Covid, Johnny. He just has, like, symptoms.”
The girl bursts into tears. Her old dear goes, "What the hell are you doing?" as my line about Santa having symptoms travels through the crowd like a vicious rumour through Dalkey.
'Btw,' she goes, 'if the boys ask why WE'RE buying their presents, just say they're their Mommy and Daddy Presents. Their Santa Presents will be arriving by sleigh as usual!'
I’m there, “Hey, I’m just trying to play it as I see it here.”
“What,” she goes, “by announcing that Santa has Covid symptoms?”
“I’m beginning to regret saying anything,” I go, because I can suddenly hear other kids crying in the line ahead of us.
The woman turns to her kid and goes, "Don't listen to the man. Santa will be coming – the same as every year."
"But he shouldn't be travelling anywhere," the little girl goes, "if he has symptoms. What if he gives it to us, Mommy?"
Brian turns around to me then and goes, "If Santa is coming to Ireland from the North Pole, why doesn't he have to quarantine for two weeks?"
Up ahead, I can hear at least 10 kids, bawling their eyes out, going, “Santa has Covid!” and one kid go, “Santa’s a superspreader.”
The entire queue is looking back, waiting for me to say something to make this right.
“Look,” I go, “Santa does not have Covid. And he’s not a superspreader.”
“How do you know?” a little boy who’s joined the queue behind us goes.
I’m there, “Because, em – yeah, no – he has a vaccine.”
This time, there are actual gasps from the crowd.
"Mommy," the little girl in front of me goes, "is Santa going to bring us the vaccine?"
“I don’t know,” her old dear goes.
“But if he has it, why won’t he share it with us?”
“Santa’s a b*****d,” Leo goes.
And all of a sudden my phone beeps. It’s, like, a message from Sorcha.
“Btw,” she goes, “if the boys ask why WE’RE buying their presents, just say they’re their Mommy and Daddy Presents. Their Santa Presents will be arriving by sleigh as usual!”