Heart transplant

Stephen O'Gorman (25) had a heart transplant at the Mater Hospital earlier this year `I had a bad flu early this year, which seemed to take ages to get over. I was finding that I was short of breath, and I just thought that I was unfit. Then I started coughing, and I thought it was the flu back. I was beginning to get a bit bothered about it; I just didn't feel well.

That's when I saw a consultant in James's and he told me that I had an enlarged heart, and that I needed a transplant. It was a total shock to me, especially because it was all so sudden. Up to then, I hadn't known I was that sick. But that's why I had been so short of breath - the muscle around my heart kept growing and my lungs were filling with fluid, which is why I was coughing so much.

I work as an avionics technician at Baldonell Air Corps. When I knew I needed a transplant, I was really scared I'd lose my job. That was a big worry for me. But they were great to me there, really loyal, and told me not to worry about the job at all; that they'd keep it open for me. Not long after I saw the consultant, all my other organs started deteriorating. My stomach hurt too, and it was hard to digest anything. I couldn't sleep at night, I used to be up until five in the morning watching telly. They brought me into the Mater to wait there for a donor. I couldn't wait at home any longer, I was getting too weak. My family supported me all the time. They were just brilliant, and so were my friends. They came to see me every day in hospital when I was waiting. You never know when a donor organ will become available.

In the end, I didn't have to wait long. Only five weeks. I remember it so clearly, I was sitting up in bed at half twelve, and was just about to take the first bite out of my dinner. Mashed potatoes. And the matron grabbed the plate out of my hand and said, "You're fasting".

The thing is, they never know until the last moment, when you're on the operating table, whether the organ is compatible or not. You have to be roughly the same age and size as the organ donor. And it all has to be done so quickly, that's why the transplant patient has to be ready. The transplant patient can get as far as being knocked out and all, and then the organ is found to be not suitable, so when they wake up again, they find they still haven't had the transplant. I was lucky. They said it was a textbook operation, three hours.

I don't sit back and whinge and think I was unlucky to have this happen to me. They told me in the hospital that I was getting this operation to live. A lot of people have put their resources and time into making me better, and I appreciate my life so much now. I'm going back to work in a couple of weeks. And I'm just about to start driving again.

This Christmas will be different, yes. I appreciate my family an awful lot more now than before. We're going to really enjoy ourselves. I don't know if I can say this properly, but without this operation, I could have died and wouldn't have seen any of them again. I'll be buying everyone in my family a good present this year! But the best Christmas present anyone can give is an organ donor card. I have to say that. I wouldn't be here otherwise.

First-time Santy

Christopher "Kit" Dooley is a first-time Santy at Clery's Toy Department

`The beard is just beautiful. And very real, if I may say so. None of this fluffy stuff. It's a proper beard; you can comb it out and all. It's very warm at the moment in my grotto, because they're doing some renovations in Clerys and the fans aren't always working. I don't wear much underneath my Santy clothes because it's so hot in the grotto.

I worked in Cadbury's for 25 years, and this is my first Christmas as a Santy. I just love it, I want to do it forever. My grotto is a magical place, all little lights and teddies and bunnies and a big tree, with presents everywhere. Training? No, none of that. I don't think Santys need training. I've been married for 43 years and have nine grandchildren, so it comes natural to me.

There's four Santys and two helpers. If it gets really busy, we'd have two Santys on at the same time. I'd see all ages of children. Some of them would be 13 or 14. Yes, they would, because I'd ask them what age they were. And their names, and how they're getting on at school.

The parents come into the grotto too, of course. I make sure they hear what the children are saying to me, what they're asking for, because sometimes they keep it as a secret to tell Santy what they want. I don't promise anything. I look over at the parents every now and then, to check their reactions. And I won't let children sit on my knee unless the parents want a picture. Santy has to be very careful.

This year, it's all Playstations, for boys and girls. And the new Polar Action Man, the boys are all talking about that. But they're not greedy, no. They usually ask for one thing and a surprise. You can't beat the surprise.

I have to be ready for the things the kids say; they'll say things like I saw you somewhere else, Santy, and how's that? I tell them I'm magic and I can be in different places at the one time. I had one little girl in a few days ago and she whispered to me that she'd seen me earlier that day, in Henry Street. So I says, that's right, I was on my way to Moore Street to buy carrots for Rudolph.

I had one little lad asking for Mrs Claus yesterday, but most of them don't ask for her at all. They'd inquire after Rudolph, though. Some of them tell me they'll leave out a glass of whiskey for me, but I tell them I just want a glass of milk and a chocolate biscuit, or a bit of their nan's Christmas cake.

I tell them it's not that I wouldn't like the whiskey, but I can't be drinking it when I have the sleigh to drive, and all the toys to mind. I mean, what would happen if all the toys fell off the sleigh because I'd had too much whiskey? I'm a non-alcoholic beverage Santy. But I'll be having the whiskey when I have all the toys delivered. Oh yes. I'll put my feet up then, I can tell you.

Adoptive parents

Ann and Gerard McCabe adopted Anna (20 months) in Hunan, China, on March 30th

`Last Christmas was the worst one we ever had, myself and my husband Gerard and our son Michael. He's 13. We'd been trying to adopt a baby for almost three years from China. Our papers had already been out there for 18 months. We'd hoped we would hear something before Christmas, but there was no news. Deep down, we were beginning to become resolved about the fact that we'd never be allocated a baby. We were miserable. The hardest thing was not being in control.

In February, Anna's medical report was faxed through to us, along with a little passport picture. She was in the province of Hunan and she was available for adoption. We had two weeks to decide whether we wanted her or not. It didn't even take us two minutes.

In March, we flew to Beijing with three other Irish couples, who were all adopting too. I just wasn't prepared for all those people in Beijing. There were so many people, it was unbelievable! We had a bit of sightseeing there; Tiananmen Square and the Forbidden City and all that, because we knew we wouldn't be doing any once we got the babies. Then we flew to Hunan.

It was March 30th, and Anna was a year and a week old. We were in shock when we saw her, she was just so gorgeous. It took her a few days to get used to us. We brought her back to the hotel and put her in the middle of our bed, with some toys we'd brought from home, and we just watched her watching us. It was like she had come new-born from a hospital, we felt that close to her.

When we came home with Anna, the neighbours had put out bunting for us. People we didn't even know that well came to the door with cards and presents for her. We won't have to buy her a stitch of clothes for years, we were given so many things.

Since the day she came home, the whole house has centred around her. Our lives have changed completely. She is so bright, and it's like she's always been here. Michael loves her. He picked out everything for her room. It's her own little palace, all pink and white, with animal prints.

When we were in China, we brought back as many things as we could for a memory box for Anna. We've kept the clothes she came in, and a daily newspaper of the day we got her, hotel receipts of places we stayed, postcards, things like that that she can look at when she's older. And we have a special place downstairs with little things that she goes and looks at and plays with every night. There are small painted bottles, and Chinese fans, and silver stress balls, things like that.

We're going to have the best Christmas ever this year. Anna's getting excited about it already. When she sees pictures of Santy, she says "Ho, ho, ho!" We're going to give her some Teletubby things, because she loves the programme. Myself and Gerard both work shifts, and this is the first Christmas that neither of us will be working. We're going to have a Christmas to make up for last year!

Move to the country

Ben and Catherine Myers moved from Tallaght through Rural Resettlement to Carigaholt in West Clare this year

`We first had the idea about four years ago, that we wanted to move out of Dublin. But it's only this year that we were able to do it, because we got a car. You can't move to an area like this and not have transport. Carigaholt is way down the tip of Clare; it's a long way to the nearest town, which is Kilrush. Getting the car clinched the idea.

We didn't have to wait too long for a house with the Rural Resettlement programme. We originally wanted somewhere in the Midlands, but there wasn't a house available there. When we were offered this one in Clare, we drove down to have a look at it. It's a lovely old farmhouse, about 1840 is what we were told. It's one storey. You can't see the sea from the house, but it's only a five-minute walk away.

We have five kids. They're 13, 10, 5, 3, and 18 months. We were living in Jobstown, Tallaght until the beginning of November. We didn't want our kids growing up there. Tallaght's changed. There was a pig farm in the village only 15 years ago. Now it's houses everywhere. There's peace and quiet down here.

The day we moved down, there was a big storm and the electricity went off. That's something that doesn't happen too often in Dublin. It's happened a few times since! The kids love it down here and they spend all their time down on the beach. They seem to be getting more attention in the school, too. There's something like 37 in the whole school and in Dublin, there was 42 in a class.

It's very quiet here. We went into Ennis today to do some shopping and got lost, the place seemed so big after living here, even though we haven't been here that long yet. What do we miss about the city? The bargains. We knew where to go for all the bargains in Dublin, food and all the other things you need. And we haven't got used to how late the shops open in the morning here; it's usually half-ten and sometimes 11 before they open their doors. But there's no point turning up before that, they're just not open. We used to shop for groceries very early in Dublin.

Christmas will be tight this year. We're on the labour here, and there was a lot of expenses in moving down, so we won't be able to give the kids that much. It'll be more difficult to get things for the kids, but they're definitely going to be happier down here in Clare. This will be our first Christmas out of Dublin. We'll miss our family and friends.

We're hoping the weather will be good on Christmas Day, so we can go for a big walk on the beach. This Christmas will be different from all the others in that we have another year here beside the sea to look forward to, rather than a year on a housing estate.

Lotto winner

Siobhan Malone (19), a student at UCD, won £2.3 million in the Lotto in May

`I wouldn't usually be playing the Lotto, I'd only do it every now and then on a Quickpik. It was a Wednesday night. The jackpot was £2.3 million and I'd bought a ticket. I was out all that night and stayed overnight at a friend's place. When I came home the next day, my landlord said there'd been one winner the night before. I checked the numbers on the Teletext, but I didn't know they were mine because I'd bought a Quickpik and I didn't know them off.

The ticket had been in my jeans pocket all night. I took it out and the numbers matched the Teletext. I just went into shock. That was Thursday. I went down home on Friday, and we came to Dublin and collected it on Monday. We didn't tell anyone for a while. It was May, before I did my first Arts exams - English and Geography - at UCD. I still passed.

Winning the Lotto is still sinking in. I try not to think about it too much. I wanted to come back to college and finish, because all my friends are here in Dublin and I was having a good time here and I didn't want to lose that. I'm really glad I did come back. I'm having a good laugh. I do get a bit of slagging and that when I walk into the pub, like, "Here's Siobhan, the drinks are on her," or else, "Marry me!" I tell my friends to slap me if they think I'm changing, but they seem to think I'm OK.

What did I want to buy when I got the money? I bought a big stereo. And loads of clothes. Combat trousers, stuff like that. I went shopping in the George's Street Arcade; I like secondhand clothes. And I went to Henry Street. Brown Thomas? No way! I don't think I've ever been inside the door. I went to Italy to be on this TV programme about Lottery winners around the world and that was cool, being on TV. I bought a leather jacket in Italy, which I love.

It hasn't changed my life that much. People keep asking me do I want a car, but I have the bus to college from outside my house every day, why would I want a car? I haven't bought an apartment or a house or anything. I'm renting with four other girls.

Winning the Lotto has made life easier in some ways. It hasn't changed my outlook on life, but it does take the pressure off worrying about things like books for college and money for going out. It takes the stress out of student life, I suppose.

This Christmas will be different. I don't know what to expect, but I know it will be different. I'm going to do lots of shopping. I don't know where to start! Everyone will be at home, and everyone will have enough.

First Christmas away

Novelist Emer Martin (30), has lived out of Ireland for 12 years. This will be her first Christmas not coming home

`I'm a Christmas fascist. I even used to object if anyone non-family called to the house on Christmas Day. There were lots of traditions, down to the way we handed around the presents. We used to take turns crawling on our hands and knees under the tree to bring out the presents: I did it the same way when I was three as when I was 30. I'm big into tinsel. I love all that tacky stuff. I love all the furious consumerism of Christmas: it's my favourite time of year.

This year, it's going to be the first Christmas I haven't been home. I left Ireland after my Leaving Cert, but always made it back for Christmas. Coming back to Ireland was my big holiday. I used to stay for about six weeks, until February. People called me the last emigrant out of Ireland: everyone else had got on the plane and left the country by January 6th.

We're not coming back this year. It's largely a financial question. Getting a flight that time of year is very expensive. I'm going to have to come over to Ireland early in the year anyway, so that would make it two lots of flights. And my husband isn't Irish and he only gets about three weeks' holidays a year, so we thought we'd go somewhere different this year. Except we'll probably end up staying in New York the way things are going.

It's going to be very tough this year, not coming back. The closer it gets, the harder it gets. I'm feeling really guilty about it, too, because my family are used to seeing us that time of the year and it's going to be hard for them as well. How am I going to spend Christmas? I haven't decided yet. Some mornings I wake up and say I'll create a whole new traditional Christmas here. Midnight Mass in St Patrick's and ice-skating in the Rockefeller Centre. Other mornings, I say I'm going to do my laundry and sit at home with a paper bag over my head all day.

Lots of places in New York are open on Christmas Day: it's a big opportunity to make money. There's a pub called St Dymphna's in New York where all the poor sad lonely losers like myself congregate at Thanksgiving and Christmas to sit there and mope together in solidarity. I'll probably go there for a pint on Christmas Day. Wearing the paper bag. When my husband hears me saying that, he starts muttering about trying to find cheap flights home. We still might be back. Apart from the family Christmas, we'll be missing our ritual all-night dancing sessions in La Cave. New York has everything, but it doesn't have La Cave.