Dear Santa,
I’m writing because I just want to triple-check that you know I’m not going to be at home on Christmas Eve this year, and to make sure you know where to deliver all my presents and wishes. I know you’ll remember me because you gave me your autograph when I was eight and we all remarked how much your handwriting looked like my brother’s. I did think it was odd that you also wrote, “Conor is cool” on the page, but I guess you didn’t want him to feel left out.
I’m going to New York this Christmas Santa. I made the mistake of telling a very old school taxi driver about my plans and he said I was a “typical woman, going to America to shop”, but I’m actually going to visit a very dear friend and shopping is at the absolute bottom of my to-do list while I’m there (I mean, I’ll do a smash and grab in Sephora, I’m not a complete animal). We’re going to a restaurant for our dinner on Christmas Day, which goes against almost everything in my DNA but I’m ready to feel extremely bold and cosmopolitan. I’ll try to fight off the rest of my Irish genetic impulses and stay out of the M&M Store.
You’re absolutely mad if you think I’m not going to make a pilgrimage to the Brenda Fricker Ceremonial Bridge in Central Park though. It’s actually called the Gapstow Bridge but anyone with an eye in their head can appreciate it as the location where Kevin first meets Brenda’s iconic Pigeon Lady in Home Alone 2: Lost in New York. You can even see the Plaza Hotel from the bridge. When I heard they do a Christmas Day buffet at the Plaza I thought that it might be the perfect spot for our festive dinner. Then I saw the prices: €325 plus 18 per cent tip for a carvery! You can keep your Grilled Colorado Lamb Rack with Chimichurri Sauce, thank you very much.
How much more money must I give Apple before they never again come to me with a warning about storage?
Anyway Santa, I digress. For Christmas this year I would love a phone-charging cable that works for longer than three months before becoming sad and dangerously frayed and claiming, “this accessory is not supported by this device”. I’ve really tried to seek one out and I’ve read lots of reviews Santa but I’m always left disappointed. In the same vein, I’d love to never again be told that my WhatsApp can’t back itself up because there isn’t enough storage. How much more money must I give Apple before they never again come to me with a warning about storage? Can you find that out for me Santa? I feel like life is too short to be worrying for one more second about my gigabytes.
When I was about nine you brought me a red Talking Maths Computer which at the time I was mildly affronted by because I wanted a My Little Pony Dream Castle. However, wise man that you are you recognised that I was not the greatest at long division and felt that the Talking Maths Computer might be better for me in the long run. And look I did love it in the end and became a whiz on my 12 times tables. Still though, if you had a My Little Pony Dream Castle lying around, I wouldn’t say no.
This will be my 16th Christmas without my dad and I have always worried that if I’m not at my childhood house to light his traditional candle to “guide the lost souls home”, he will somehow be looking for me. So, if you could let him know Santa that I’ll be lighting a candle for him in New York instead I’d appreciate it. At least I don’t have to run the gauntlet of hipflasks, nose hair trimmers, baffling monogrammed handkerchief sets and other traditional “dad” gifts. It is the tiniest of silver linings to be free from desperately considering yet another beard oil or penknife-that-is-also-a-phone-charger (although if there is one of those on the market that won’t give up after the three months mentioned above, I’ll take it).
Mostly though Santa I would like a permanent ceasefire and peaceful lives for the people of Palestine, for drivers in Dublin to return to the traditions of using indicators at roundabouts and stopping at red lights, and for the cat to stop gaslighting me about what food she likes. I cannot watch her lick the gravy off another extortionate bowl of meat chunks.
Thanks Santa,
Emer