target="_blank" rel="nofollow" href="#u33a1e0e3-a2ba-568e-aafa-069e2a2bdc67">Chapter 12
A Q & A With Carmel Harrington
Blessed is the season which engages the whole world in a conspiracy of love.
Hamilton Wright Mabie
Christmas Eve, 2005
‘Happiness is …’ I exhale a long, deep, satisfied sigh, and the cold breath of winter floats out of my mouth up into the air.
‘This is the best Christmas street lighting yet.’
I know I say the same thing every year, in this very same spot, at this very same time. I’ll probably say it again next year too.
In this moment, I’ve never seen anything more perfect. The Victorian-inspired decorations are from a bygone era that shine with goodwill to all men. I know, I know, that sounds all cheese on toast, but when it comes to Christmas, that’s allowed. With extra parmesan on top, as far as I’m concerned.
My city, my beloved Dublin, is sparkling in a festive glow. And its inhabitants are collectively holding their breaths, because Christmas is almost here.
And this year, I’ve been delivered an early Christmas present. The fact that it’s the same one I received when I was eight years old isn’t lost on me. Coincidence, fate, magic, I don’t know what forces are at play to make this happen, but I’m grateful.
Just two weeks ago, I was single, happily so too, living my best life, teaching kids in St Colmcille’s. I honest to goodness didn’t wake up each day lamenting the lack of love in my life. Because I had a good life, boyfriends coming and going. I figured that one day I would meet Mr Right. But now that he is here, I cannot believe that I ever got through each day without him by my side.
Here I am, at the foot of Grafton Street with Jim Looney of all people. If you would have suggested such a thing to me a mere few weeks ago, the words ‘look up’ and ‘flying pigs’ would have been uttered.