My mind aglow after my writing group’s meet, I spontaneously popped into Garvey’s pub in Eyre Square. It was a Tuesday evening some time after 9 and there was a trad session in motion. My focus shifted from the hands of one musician to another as they all became one with their instruments, creating a rhythmic energy that was bigger than any of them, but of which they were all an essential part.
A man with long curly black hair, who looked like what I’d imagine of one of Dumas’ three musketeers, thrummed away on his bodhrán, providing the session’s heart beat. It transpired that he was Spanish. A flame haired lady from Brazil (but who looked very Irish) fiddled away frenetically in unison. A Japanese man sat on the outskirts, enthusiastically endeavouring to hold the flow and lose himself in the rhythm. A bespectacled and bearded English gentleman fiddled along in harmony. A somewhat entranced looking Irishman strummed away on an Irish buzuki, providing a rhythmic consistency to the momentum. Another lady, slender and tanned, (I’m not sure where she was from) accordion-ed along with them, providing a melodic back drop which could almost make one believe in fairy tales, leprechauns, and the luck of four leaf clovers.