Red traffic lights rarely make you smile – unless you are in Iceland that is. Back in 2008, the town of Akureyri changed the shape of its red traffic lights to a heart, for a summer festival. It was auspicious timing as the good people of Iceland needed something to smile about in the months that followed.
Like ourselves, they suffered a financial crash, but while we cried into our tea and ate too many biscuits, the Akureyri authorities set about boosting the morale of their citizens. Being forced to stop in the name of love may have momentarily distracted them from the collapse of their economy.
The lovely traffic lights were such a success that people were soon in danger of getting flattened by cars as they tried to take selfies with the red light.
To avoid any heart-stopping moments, the authorities installed a special selfie traffic light away from the busy streets to keep them safe.
As this is the month when thoughts turn to romance, perhaps Dublin should be following Iceland’s lead and leaning into love? After all, it is a city with three Love Lanes, not to mention a Ring Street and a Bride Street. And it’s the place where James Joyce first clapped eyes on the love of his life Nora Barnacle and where Patrick Kavanagh became ensnared in Hilda Moriarty’s dark hair and wrote Raglan Road about his unrequited love.
But if the authorities baulk at a city-wide display of hearts, then perhaps they could start with the traffic lights on Aungier Street.
It is home to Whitefriar Street Church and any self-respecting devotee of St Valentine will tell you that this Carmelite church displays a casket that contains the saint’s relics.
Fr John Spratt, a tireless worker for the homeless and the poor, was the man who secured the relics. He was a renowned preacher and so impressed Pope Gregory XVI when he visited Rome that he was gifted this somewhat unorthodox present.
According to the accompanying documentation from the Holy See, the reliquary contains remains of St Valentine, together with a small vessel tinged with his blood.
These are contained within a small wooden box tied with a red silk ribbon and sealed with wax seals.
The wooden box hasn’t been opened since it left Rome in 1836, which shows phenomenal self-restraint from Fr Spratt. Any other mere mortal would at least have taken a quick peek, just to see if the Pope had thrown in a box of Roses or a Vatican fridge magnet with the gift.
The shrine to St Valentine is still a major draw to the church and every year several thousand people come to pay homage on February 14th and have their rings blessed at Mass.
On this St Valentine’s Day, rings will be blessed at the 11.30am and 3pm Masses.
The church helpfully provides a book for visitors who wish to write their requests to the saint.
This year’s book is already filling up fast and it’s touching to see that so many of the petitions are from people who want to help others. If Nathaniel, Sebastian and Laura find love this year, then they can thank their mammies for putting in a good word with St Valentine.
And while we associate the saint with matters of the heart, some of his devotees believe he can turn his hand to other body parts. His help is sought for hips, lungs and kidneys, not to mention numerous maladies. Other petitioners are hoping he can secure certain things, such as a new job, world peace and a nice haircut. St Valentine may be capable of delivering world peace but a good haircut, well that’s a big ask.
Of course, if St Valentine gets his heart-shaped traffic lights then it goes without saying that every green traffic light in the State should be changed into the shape of a shamrock, to honour St Patrick. It’s mind-boggling that this has never been part of any political party’s general election manifesto.
But why stop at the shamrock? Isn’t it time we did something with the boring old green man at the pedestrian crossings? Instead of just walking, he could launch into a Riverdance-style performance. It might encourage people to wait for the green man, instead of darting across the street and capsizing a cyclist.
And we all know that Irish dancing is like yawning – when you see someone else doing it, you can’t stop yourself from joining in. What a glorious sight that would be – our pedestrian crossings full of people dancing a jig across the street. After the last few months we’ve endured, it’s the least we deserve.
