Le weekend

We started off with very few plans for the weekend, - go to a hotel, not too far away, chill out and read books.

We booked to go to Dungarvan, cos it's near the gaeltacht, and we wanted to connect with our roots, "do something Iiirish" etc, turned out there was a big mad food festival on.... Lucky ducks, us.

We went to a variety concert on the first evening in Sean Phobhail - so called cos it's the oldest parish in the country - even older than wherever St Patrick went first. There was everything from 20 Piano accordians, to excerpts from Angela's ashes, to the local version of Stephen James Smith doin poems on Waterford hurling with every bit as much passion, then lovely girls doing Irish dancing. The hero of the night was a high cheek boned crooner who kept the mic stuck to his chin in memory of times when mics had to be stuck to your chin, and sang songs of loss and longing -

the climax being a song called Never grow old... which he bullied everyone (including those who had already grown old) to join in and sing along with... click here for the full effect. but fast forward a bit - t

here's talking at the start...

Saturday we saw a taispeánteas cócaireachta (cooking demo) in the same village hall, man cooks four different types of fish, twas just like tv, but bilingual, and with smells and free food at the end. Naoise O Cathaoisaigh was an entertaining host.

We then called out to Joan Clancy, a lovely woman (and another part of the jigsaw that seems to indicate that all Joan's are lovely). She took us on a tour of her eclectic art gallery - well worth a visit if you ever manage to be in the area, for her warm introductions to everything alone.

Then back to D(F)ungarvan for a bit of a look at another art gallery, where it was advertised you could paint your own watercolor - twas all taken over by kids though (darn kids!!), so we didn't get a look in. After that it was time to see the Watercats, playing their first gig of the festival. I managed to chat to Vicky for a little bit before they started up, but they were having technical challenges and sorting it out like mad things, so we let them worry about that and just found ourselves some seats in the crowded beer garden. It was mad, they were exactly as they are on the blog, Vicky and the Ron, and they exude a great confidence and sense of fun.

It was really lovely to hear a few of the songs that I'd know well from the album, and I got to practice again my legendary photography skills - (the enigmatic Ron faces away from the camera).

We also managed to squeeze in some swimming, walking, ice-cream eating, reading, squeezing, farmers marketing, smelling nice smells, stopping at book shops - so not a bad old weekend for one we barely planned at all.