Christmas Day is mid. There, I said it. Sure, it’s nice—presents under the tree, the carefully planned meal, the relentless pressure to make everything just so. But you know what’s better? Infinitely better? St. Stephen’s Day.
Stephen’s Day is the Day when the fuss dies down. The pressure lifts, and the real magic of the holidays begins. There’s less Santa stress ‘cos he has been and gone. On Stephen’s Day, the house is a little messier, the fridge a little emptier, and the expectations significantly lower. But the craic is much better.
Stephen’s Day always starts with a lie in. And it is a truth universally acknowledged that all the best days start with a lie in. For the terminally busy FOMO people who over book and burn themselves out in the run up to Christmas; which is most of us, Stephens Day is likely the first day of rest all month. It’s a bed rot kinda morning and who doesn’t love little bed rotting?
On Christmas, we’re all on high alert. You’re either hosting or visiting. There’s a timeline. A structure. You’ve probably spent hours getting dressed after hitting Midnight Mass or Christmas pints. On Christmas day, you’re running around peeling sprouts and faking enthusiasm for gifts that aren’t quite you.
Stephen’s Day, though? That’s the Day you wake up whenever you want, stumble downstairs in your comfiest pyjamas, and make yourself an unreasonably large sandwich without anyone judging. Best enjoyed while sprawled on the couch watching whatever Christmas movie RTÉ has decided to grace us with for the 47th time. One particularly witty Redditor called “St. Sliced Pan Day” because there’s so many sandwiches made across the country on this the best day of the season.
Christmas dinner is great, sure, but Stephen’s Day leftovers are better. Why? Because they’re effortless. Nuke em in the air fryer if you want. Turn them into a pimped-out ramen if you’ve got the dexterity. But you don’t have to be feeding the whole family all at the same time. Stephens Day is all about grazing. Eating the bits when you feel so inclined because there are bits everywhere. Plus, the selection boxes still have all the best bits in them, and you probably haven’t gotten down to anything but Bounty’s yet.
Then there’s the telly. No one is hogging it to watch the Eastenders/Corrie special double bill. Maybe there’s some football on somewhere, but if you have the remote, then you can just chill with the streamers while they’re chock full of all the biggest hits of the year. The actual dream.
The beauty of Stephen’s Day is that you can do as much or as little as you like. Go for a walk along Dollymount Strand? Sure, why not. Head down to Leopardstown for the races? A classic move. Hit your local for a few quiet pints and bump into every single person you went to school with? Of course. Hit up your aunt and eat her leftovers while kicking all your cousin’s asses at Monopoly? Perfect. Or just stay home, eat, and scroll endlessly through the Stephen’s Day sales.
Beware of the neverending nap though. You know the one where the couch has eaten you and you get so comfy you fall into a cycle of dozing off and jerking awake. Especially if someone comes to change the channel. This is especially likely to happen to Da’s for some unknown reason.
Christmas Day is all about immediate family, which can be low key intense for some people. Stephen’s Day is when you reconnect with extended family, old friends, neighbours, and that one cousin who’s home from Australia for the first time in five years.
So, no, Christmas Day is not the pinnacle of the season. It’s the undercard. The real magic of Christmas happens on the 26th, when the expectations vanish, and the leftovers reign supreme.
And if you disagree, I have just one question: Have you ever truly experienced the glory of a turkey-stuffing-and-cranberry-sauce sandwich at 11 a.m., still in your pyjamas, while watching Die Hard for the third time? If not, I suggest you reconsider your choices in life.
