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Good Friday may be a day for deep reflection and penance for some; but for many in modern society it's a day traditionally spend evading the ceremonies and rituals and beating the licensing laws.

For a lot of European countries, Ireland included, the legacy of centuries of religious uniformity is the almost universal celebration of Christian holidays such as Christmas and Easter even by people who rarely see the inside of a church. In many ways this presents few real problems; many religions celebrate festivals in and around the same time. For example Easter will coincide with Passover (April 8th) Vesak (April 8th) Sinhala and Tamil New Year (April 14th) and Easter (Orthodox) or Pascha (April 19th) and they welcome the reverence accorded to religious holidays.

But For many it's a mid-term break, a day off work, a bank holiday; and for those who don't conform to the religious mainstream days like Good Friday are more a nostalgic reminder of childhood, or a secular tradition than anything else. It can also be a day that irritates if you live in a country like mine, where the age old tradition of fasting and self denial is imposed on the rest of the population by shutting public houses, banning off licence sales and forcing restaurants to be dry. This has led to a tradition among the secular souls of Ireland, the tradition of evading the draconian licencing laws and finding alcohol and some fun on Good Friday.

It starts on Holy Thursday when any anthropologist could do worse than frequent the nearest supermarket or off licence. Men who haven't drunk since Christmas suddenly get a martial light in their eyes. Mutterings along the lines of "one day off that i can't even have a beer" can be overheard and long suffering spouses have to listen as they recount how the Christian Brothers broke their spirit in 1968 and now they can't even have a pint on Good Friday. Women can generally be observed simply purchasing bottles of wine, having long ago made their peace with the whole madness of the day. Students pool their pennies and there will always be the rebellious undergraduate who strides proudly to the meat counter to purchase as much mince as they can afford as a protest against the enforced Fish and Fasting diet.

Then you get the phone call from your old college friend or work colleague (who incidentally has missed the last three reunions) on the off chance that you are throwing a Good Friday party. Good Friday parties are held in someone's house, where the aforementioned burgers are passed around like Ecstasy at a rave and copious amounts of alcohol are served to people who can't shake the black fear that the off licences will remain closed. We all fear this, deep down. We all know in our hearts that given their way the holy joes will someday - some Good Friday - seize power and refuse to reopen the pubs and clubs and restaurants.

So we party as if it's going out of fashion. We eat meat and feel very empowered. We will of course lie to our aged parents and pretend on Saturday that we went to at least one of the interminable Good Friday ceremonies - being almost middle aged doesn't exempt you from that part of the tradition. We proudly recount how often we've beaten the authorities and found alcohol on Good Friday, with extra points awarded the more outlandish and unlikely the tale. We bemoan the insanity of Good Friday and talk about how in a multi-cultural society we should no longer pander to one group by legitimising their day above others.

The strange thing is, a few years ago the government mooted the idea of removing Good Friday. Holy God, we all said. You can't be doing that. It's Traditional.

Learn more about this author, Geraldine Moorkens Byrne.
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