Our columnist is nostalgic for the days when bouncy castles weren’t an essential for the big day, and you just went ‘visiting’ instead
• THE past week was one of two halves. The first half was nice and normal, the second half was absolutely bonkers. And what prompted it? An innocent text announcing the date of the communion in our school.
I am properly shook from it! Why on earth didn’t anyone warn me that I’d have to be in training for this moment? In the starting blocks with a folder at the ready, or at the very least with a list of suppliers saved on my phone, ready to dial and lock in? I’ll admit to being relaxed about these things (hah! more like uninitiated) so when the text came last week from the school, I didn’t do anything at all for a while, besides remarking that it was taking place a bit earlier than usual.
Later in the afternoon, I decided I should perhaps book a blow dry, and then I’m sort of ashamed to admit it but I figured I had better secure ... a bouncy castle (I know, I’m mortified for me too).
• That’s when things got a bit stressful. It turns out that there’s a few parishes in the wider area with a communion the same date as ours and there is not a bouncy castle to be had for love nor money. Some suppliers had the audacity to laugh at me looking for something for an event taking place in six months’ time; while others were a bit gentler in letting me down.
• Either way I’ve had no luck, and I reckon I’d have a better chance of getting four Oasis tickets at this stage. As well as that, people are being very coy and keeping their bouncy contacts close to their chests and I’ve heard on the grapevine (but I’ve absolutely no proof) of some gazumping going on, backhanders and brown envelopes being exchanged. At this stage I’m on so many waiting lists that I’ll either end up with 10 bouncy castles on the day (in which case form an orderly queue ladies and gents), or I’ll have none. It’s all still to play for.
• I was trying to remember exactly when (and why?) bouncy castles became so intertwined with the sacrament of communion. You’d think they’d have had their day by now, wouldn’t you? Surely, it’s time to allow something else have a moment of glory? For starters, bouncy castles mean the communion dress/suit is worn for hardly any time at all as the youngsters want to get changed immediately to have a bounce; everyone gets hot, sweaty and a bit deranged from spending hours in there; invariably someone will bump their head or twist an ankle; or worse still an alcohol-fuelled adult will get too enthusiastic and do their back in and need weeks of physio. It’s hazardous when you think of it. And worst of all is that if it rains (and there’s always a very good chance), it’s either out of bounds (and there’ll be tears from young and old), or you’ll end up with a filthy house and mountains of wet towels and socks.
What about getting something new trending for communion season 2025? How about swingball? Fun, new and best of all ... I already have one! Could we ... swing the crowd?
• Of course, there was no such thing as bouncy castles back in my day. The thing to do on our communion day was to ‘go visiting’. It’s a bit of a mental concept now – you’d literally arrive unannounced (imagine!) into someone’s house (usually you’d be related to them, but you didn’t always have to be), do a twirl in your gúna, get the cash ... and dash. On to the next gaff. Shameless. Actually it’s probably better that these days we bounce. And I wasn’t really serious about the swingball – can anyone help me with anything inflatable?
• And then there’s the catering. Now, I have been that soldier, many a time, who has decided to do everything herself for family gatherings. It’s sort of bred into me, my mother is of the ‘Calor Kosangas Housewife of the Year’ era and my sister is a home economics teacher so it’s a given in our house that you roll up your sleeves and produce the goods. From scratch. No cheating. The thing is that sometimes when I’ve done that, I find there comes a point in the celebration when you suddenly feel like falling down with exhaustion and crying, you’re light-headed after two solid days in the kitchen, you catch sight of yourself in the oven door and you realise you look hot (not in a good way), and you resent your guests, especially the ones who look hot in the right way – you may even feel hatred towards them – and you will want them to leave. I decided I didn’t want that to happen. Again. So as I was in the zone, I rang a local catering company, apologising profusely (‘what am I like!’ etc) for being a bit premature with my query about food for the communion day, and wait for it ... it turns out I got the last slot. Seriously! Were the dates leaked? When did everyone get so organised?
• As I was finding my stride, my mind next turned to the communion dress. I wore my sister’s dress and I love the idea of passing it on to the next generation but we made our communion in first class (it’s now second) and given that we started school when we were four (it’s now usually five), no amount of wizardry with the sewing machine was going to make it work. Besides, communion dress shopping is now an ‘event’ – obviously not quite the same, but closely related to, bridal shopping. Now this is something I can get excited about!
• I’ve gone on a deep dive into the world of communion dresses and there are millions of styles out there to choose from, it’s mind blowing. I randomly spotted one that looked quite nice and even better, was Irish-made too. Some Googling later, and it turned out there was an event in Cork later this month where you could try these dresses on. Fantastic, I thought to myself. One thing sorted, and a nice afternoon out too. Or at least it would have been if I wasn’t several weeks too late. The appointment list was full and firmly closed. Yup, I’m on another waiting list.
• The whole thing got me thinking that that there’d be a great opening for communion planners, just like wedding planners. Although, wait, they probably already exist, right? And they’re all booked up too? Anyway, these are all just first world problems and sure let’s remember what the day is really all about: impressing your friends and family with your home, of course. I once heard of someone who actually put an extension on her house for their kids’ communion. It might be one of those urban legends, but still – equal parts mental, and equal parts impressive. I’d be half-tempted but I’d never get it done in time. Sure, builders are all booked up solid too!
