David Robbins: Hereditary nostalgia reigns in Christmas Day's quiet period
Published 18/12/2011 | 06:00
There is a dangerous period on Christmas Day. Mass is over, but it's still a couple of hours until lunch is served. It's an ominously quiet time, when anything might happen.
In our house, it was the time when my father would say: "I think I'll just pop over to Sandymount ... "
My mother would roll her eyes. She would like to say something -- plenty, perhaps -- but she thought of us and the day, and merely sighed. For my father, going to Sandymount was like going down a trap door into the past. It was where he spent his happiest years. Part of him never left.