Saint Patrick's Day And How I Gave Up Smoking

Saint Patrick's Day means little to me even though I am an Irishwoman. When we were children it meant a day off school which was marred by compulsory attendance at Mass where almost everyone would be wearing a clump of weedy shamrock and the choir would sing 'Hail Glorious Saint Patrick' which I rather enjoyed for I found the lyrics very rousing, more Unrepentant Republican than Devout Christian. At that stage of my life, I had yet to hear the Wolfe Tones.

Hail, glorious St. Patrick, dear saint of our isle,

On us thy poor children bestow a sweet smile;

And now that you’re high in your mansions above,

On Erin's green valleys look down with your love.

On Erin's green valleys, on Erin's green valleys,

On Erin's green valleys look down with your love.

Hail, glorious St. Patrick, thy words were once strong

Against Satan's wiles and a heretic throng;

Not less is thy might where in Heaven thou art;

Oh, come to our aid, in our battle take part!

In a war against sin, in the fight for the faith,

Dear Saint, may thy children resist to the death;

May their strength be in meekness, in penance, and prayer,

Their banner the Cross, which they glory to bear.

Nowadays I don't go to Mass and all that the day means to me is remembering dear old Paddy, wondering if any of my younger relations will be arrested in the Holyland and despising eedjits who carry on like this.

And what is it with the four-leaved clover? The whole point of the shamrock's association with Saint Patrick is that he is supposed to have used the plant to explain the concept of the Trinity to the native Irish. It isn't known as trifolium for nothing.

Anyway, Paddy's Day, my hole. This is the best Paddy I ever knew. Thirteen years ago we fetched him from the shelter, and thirteen years and two days since I gave up smoking for he sure took my mind off tobacco. That's my main tip for giving up. Get a dog. And some chickens.

Paddy was a great fellow for the hens

How To Stop Smoking And Gain An Accomplishment In Three Short Days

Father Gerry's method of quitting the weed is so good I almost wish that I still smoked so I could give it a go. So for those of you who tried and failed to stop smoking this New Year why not try the McAteer Plan? Prayer (even to St Jude) is not necessary but you will need to clear your dairy for three days. And you'll need to buy a tin whistle.

So here it is - the McAteer three day plan for giving up smoking. Father Gerry knew he had to do two things to successfully ditch the habit. These were - shorten the day and keep the hands busy. The first part wasn't too hard as he was a self-confessed lover of the scratcher, the second part was where the tin whistle came in.

• Day 1: Father McAteer stayed in bed until one o'clock in the afternoon and went to bed at teatime*. During the short time he was out of bed he set about learning to play the tin whistle.
• Day 2: He got up at dinnertime** and didn't put the whistle down for a minute until he went to bed at eight that evening.
• Day 3: He rose at midday and played the whistle until his usual bedtime.

On the fourth day Father Gerry woke up a non-smoker and an accomplished tin whistle player.

It must be noted that Father McAteer was still a layman in those days. He was his own boss and could arrange the day whatever way he chose. Still, give him kudos, it was quite an achievement.

But what, you might ask, if you want to try the McAteer Plan and you already are an excellent whistle player? Well you could try the bagpipes or the banjo or if you have cranky neighbours living close by you could take up crocheting or needlepoint. Where there's a will there's a way!

The McAteer Plan is taken from Better Late Than Never... Memoirs of Father Gerard McAteer, who was ordained to the priesthood in 1983 at the age of sixty-five.

*Teatime - around six in the evening
**Dinnertime - Between midday and one a.m.