The gospel according Facebook has designated today as "Answer the phone like Buddy the Elf" day, which is all lovely and silly and Christmassy and soon someone's BOUND to ring me, right? I've been trying to feel Christmassy over the last while, I really have, but it seems to come in bursts and then work goes and ruins it all. I was starting to think that the powers that be in work may not actually be that bad, but I've since put it down to Stockholm Syndrome. Especially since I found out that we're most likely not finishing until 5 next Wednesday, while the boys in the printing room downstairs get to sneak off to the pub around 3. Something like that is inevitably going to kick any potential Christmas feeling right in the balls. And yet Christmas FM playing Stop the Cavalry and the Bing Crosby version of Jingle Bells on Tuesday evening had me bouncing and grinning on the Number 15 bus home like a ridiculously happy lunatic.
But the real super turbo Christmas feeling doesn't arrive until Christmas Eve. Every year, without fail, after the obligatory mass attendance, everyone in my Dad's family - aunts, uncles, cousins, cousin's babies and what have you - arrives at my Grandad's house for a feed of little triangular ham sandwiches and Tanora.
Oh Tanora. Surely the drink of the Gods. If the gods were from Cork, like. Tanora (which is normally only sold in Co. Cork) is something of a Christmas tradition for this particular side of the family. When my Dad was little, the only time of the year that fizzy drinks were in their house was Christmas, and his mother being from Cork, that drink was Tanora. A particular Centra at home buys in Tanora at this time of year specifically for some of my uncles who live close by, and we've been known to stop in Youghal to pick up 15 two litre bottles and a few pallets of cans of tangerine awesomeness to stock up for the festive season. When I came back to Dublin after Christmas last year to spend the remaining holidays with the Bear, I happened upon cans of Tanora in the Glasnevin Tesco and excitedly texted my Dad a photo of them. My enthusiasm for this carbonated tangerine flavoured drink is frankly ridiculous.
During my second year of college in Cork, a 500ml bottle of it was brought out. It was a good day. When Tcup and another friend of mine tasted this most revered beverage, at my behest, for the first time, they took a drink and said: "It just tastes like Fanta." Heathens. Well to me and all my cousins it tastes like muthafuckin' Christmas time.