Miltown 2007 - part 2.

Now where was I? Asleep in bed until late o clock, incidentally, until I was woke all of a sudden to go to the gym. Boo.

Anyway, Miltown, Miltown, collect car, misery and misfortune....sunshine! That was the really strange thing about the week of willies this year - every second day was pleasant, while every other day (also every second day. It all depends on where you start counting from) was like something out of Angela's Ashes. Tuesday was the day for the luxury of the Belbridge (hup!) so between that and the sun, I was a contented kitten altogether.

No tunes at all Tuesday. This is something everyone seems to agree on with Miltown. Tunes are just not that great. Yes, it's a messy festival and there is savage craic to be had. But if you're looking for nice intimate tunes that lift your spirits and remind you why you play in the first place?... Go elsewhere. It's just naive to think that you'll be constantly entrenched in some sort of session to end all sessions below. It's not an ideal situation (didl-idl-idl-i) but once you accept it, and just enjoy meeting everyone you haven't seen all year, you're not too long getting over it.

So a few car loads of friends arrived on Tuesday, and we spent more time giggling in the campsite than anything. The crowd mainly consisted of primary school teachers incidentally. I'm trying to figure out if that means anything in a metaphysical, profound sense, but I'm having trouble getting off the ground with any theory of mine. It was off out to the Belbridge then. Several hilarious incidents involving carpet burn, a couch and a bet ensued (which I won't get into here - the involved parties know who they are). Then to BED for the night.

Can I repeat myself? BED FOR THE NIGHT. Special stuff.

Wednesday dawned with the miserable realisation that we were out of a room and Garda Two and the Pink Hovel were now our lodgings for the night. It was also miserable that it was the second of the second days (if that makes sense) and twas merrily teaming out of the high heavens, the previous days sunshine but a distant memory.

No tunes again on Wednesday. Boo us. Had to be forcibly removed from the Belbridge however, and arrived back to the Lady's Garden (the campsite I moved to midweek) via a circuitous route (a box player I know remarked that the bus trips home were more like a tour of Europe than a five minute jaunt down the road). Abdicated to the car for the night - the Hotel Seat Ibiza was ready and open for business. Not the worst of lodgings - at least she's dry.

We're on what day? Wednesday? Shite, the week was much longer than I thought. Thursday is left, right? Or right. Left, I mean, left.

Thursday I decided to spend some time with the parents, who despite their rather respectable appearance are a pair of screaming hippies all the same. The Aul Fella and I had a wee thing to do that morning, playing for a lot of primary teachers (again primary teachers. Still trying to find a tangible meaning. Maybe it's just that a lot of people are primary teachers). Lovely music, lovely crowd. After this, a stroll in Quilty was suggested, which I thought would be a great way to blow off the cobwebs from the Hotel Seat Ibiza.

The three of us set off for some secret beach Dad knew of, which you couldn't reach from the road. Apparently you can't swim there, but via the rocky road we arrived at some very comfy rocks, with the sea beating off them furiously. Of course, Dad lay down and realised that if you closed your eyes, it sounded like the sea was going to come in on top of you. Thus it was that my parents and I ended up lying on a deserted beach on a rock with our eyes closed, meditating. I have this problem about staying still, you see and was hopping up every thirty seconds to see if there was any action afoot. I heard once that staying still takes lots of practise and that's why people take meditation classes. Practise doing nothing. Hmmm. I like the sound of that.

Back we went, and after a short detour down to a deserted castle, twas back to get ready for another night of it. Gang were in Clancy's playing, and I joined them, only for the session to cave soon after I did. Basically the arrival of a rogue pain in the jacksie joined in and everyone split. Boo. The same rogue pain in the jacksie was spotted crashing another session later in the night, which fell apart in similar fashion. Now, as someone with a background (albeit a very broad and insubstantial background) in psychology, you just have to wonder about these people. I have NO problem with anyone, regardless of who they are, what kind of skill level they're at and who else is playing joining a session, quietly playing along and having the craic, with a general sense of cop on and decorum. I mean, it's not like people need permission to join in - all are welcome, lets be honest. But you just need to be cognisant of the effect you are having on all participants in a session - both musicians and spectators alike. All are welcome, pending a little bit of general cop on. It does take a special kind of 'musician' however, to cause the break up of not one but two sessions in as many hours. Like I said, if you're not getting the message from that....you really have to wonder.

Here's the embarrassing thing. In all my years in Miltown, I've never been to the Crosses of Annagh (I'll just pop away for a few minutes to duck all the missiles you're throwing at me - I'm perfectly aware of the disgraceful nature of this particular confession). Having spent Thursday night there, I'm really wondering why I never made the trip out before. Good madness, lots of tunes and the girls toilets were working (I heard somewhere that the mens' weren't. Poor boys - I felt sorry for you for all of two seconds.). The plan was loudly voiced by yours truly that we were all going to Coor, but you know what? Nah, I just slipped back to Miltown and to the Seat Ibiza, where I snoozed contentedly without any comprehension of the party that was going full swing not ten metres away until eight in the morning. I've said it before and I've said it again - I'm a fan of sleeping, and I'm very talented at it too.