Tuesday, 6 September 2016

Ch-ch-changes

Sunday’s session was quite different from usual. It didn’t get off to a good start: when we arrived the TV was on and a crowd sat around watching the football and providing a very vocal commentary. We sat at the other end of the pub with a drink each and waited. Eventually the match finished, and the pub emptied out, most people preferring to sit out, and we had our usual corner.

The Northumbrian piper arrived with his wife, who doesn’t play, but she settled down on a sofa by our table and we had a bit of general chitchat between tunes, which slowed the pace. A little later a new fiddle player joined us. He was a young chap, keen, really only starting to come into Irish trad, so not with a large repertoire. He’d sought us out as a change from the usual English/Morris sessions in the area, and he joined in the discussion as well as the music. With the general chat and with the youngster coming and going (he had friends elsewhere in the pub) it had more of the feel of a social evening with music, which was very relaxing.

Somehow we fell to taking it in turns to lead a set, which isn’t something we normally do, and not something I normally enjoy, but it worked well. I played My Home Town, Father John/Whaling Song (the latter rather faster than intended), and Dargai/Flett (with a micropause between the two as I weighed up the risks of plunging into Loch Bee). I twice failed to get passed the first half of the A part of Magersfontein and ended up with Women instead (I didn’t even consider trying Sleat on the end). I played a rather tatty King, partly, I felt, because I was expecting everyone to join in and no one did, and partly perhaps because I was nearing the end of a half of Woodford Wherry  having already had a half of St Austel Tribute.

The pub was empty for most of the evening, then a large and lively young crowd came in, and although they generally talked loudly through all but a song they applauded each set enthusiastically.

The same barman seems to be on duty whenever we are there. He’s rather laid back, never gives the impression of expecting us, or even really recognising us, and has a faint air of surprise about him whenever we order drinks. On Sunday he was rather chatty, and thanked us for saving him from the football, which he hadn’t been enjoying.

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