Tuesday Night Trad Session in Garveys, Eyre Square

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.



It’s a warm, late August evening and I’m alive, running through the streets of Galway to the beat of music in my headphones. The music is irrelevant. All that matters is that it complements my inexorable desire to run.

It’s Saturday night and dusk is slowly descending. I run along Lough Atalia. Cars waft by me. As I pass the Harbour Hotel, painted, scantily clad women are chatting and puffing on cigarettes as I glide past them. The smell is mixed with weird smelling perfume and it offends my senses even though I used to smoke myself. They stand clumsily on high heels which I’m sure will prove an increasing impossibility as the night progresses and alcohol seeps into their brains, dampening their souls. Doubtless, some of them will end up in the arms of complete strangers for one night only, as the saying goes. One or two of them eyeball me with emotionless expressions. For some reason I think of seals lying lazily on a beach. (more…)