The 2026 Wollongong Saint Patrick's Day Experience

Gallivanting around Wollongong on a humid Tuesday night, there was a lively atmosphere in the community for Saint Patrick’s Day. Personal disappointment (not making it into Dicey Riley’s) after disappointment (not making it into Dicey Riley’s a second time) could never have stopped me and my fellow punters from basking in such joyous festivities.

It was an excruciatingly slow moving passage into Dicey’s, “the last true pub in Wollongong”, which, given its role as the city’s only Irish establishment, was indisputably the place to be. The end of the line reached the Piccadilly Centre, the last place any person with a modicum of self-worth would want to linger. Truthfully, I couldn’t stand waiting around, despite the blissful waft of sewage rising from the train tracks underneath me.

So, it was off to La La La’s for a creamy pint of zero-alcohol* Guinness until we realised trivia night was underway, and Irish revellers were supposedly retreating to either The Illawarra or North Gong Hotel. It was off to The Illawarra for me, as I put my dignity aside, not having stepped in the venue since my first silent disco shindig when I turned 18. Expecting nothing less than a pleasurable Saint Patrick’s Night with Irish dancing and beers aflowing, imagine my shock and horror upon noticing they were hosting a special British pop music bingo. British music, on the day of Ireland’s patron saint?! I’m not even Irish and I was appalled.

Thankfully, North Gong, our final stop on what could only be considered an unsuccessful night until this point, turned it up for the special occasion. A sea of Guinness bucket hats, somewhat decent drink specials, and many smashed glasses …  it was the welcoming atmosphere we’d been looking for.

I genuinely met more people waiting by the bar at North Gong than in my second-year classes. There was no shortage of amateur Irish accents in the crowd, as we tried to convince each other the event was an ancestral affair. I claimed I was from Galway, despite not knowing how to correctly pronounce the western county. My friend made a deal of his alleged seven percent Irish heritage, surely setting him well apart from the average Joe.

It took 40 minutes to edge from the outskirts of that mob to the countertop, when I was served by an exhausted, heaving bartender. “Three lemonades please,” I said, toning down my voice in fear of being shunned by those I stood near. The bartender, a slave to the Guinness tap for hours, running the bar like it was the navy, wanted to confirm: did I actually order non-alcoholic drinks on Saint Patrick’s Day? I broke the machine, he started glitching out. He was perplexed enough to give them to me for free, sending me off with a subtle shake of the head, resigned in disappointment.

In all my years, I hadn’t celebrated Saint Patrick’s Day before. Despite the trials of the night, and the brief moments of shame walking into some venues, I can say with certainty that I’ll be making it a full-day affair next year, if it means having good laughs with mates old and new, and leaving it all out on the field. I hope you had a great Saint Patrick’s Day too.

*Disclaimer: I was driving. The Gala endorses the responsible service of alcohol.