Just got back from a packed to the door Coore church with a crowd unable to get in
Peter did a very moving A Stór Mo Chroí at the graveside and plenty of other musicians to give her a good send-off - the only thing missing was Kitty's pile-driving foot stamping out the rhythm.
This appeared in our local paper this morning - if my postings stop you'll find me in Limerick Gaol for infringing copyright laws.
Jim Carroll

LAST November, Clare People journalist Andrew Hamilton interviewed Clare concertina legend, Kitty Hayes, who died at the weekend. The occasion was a tribute concert in her honour at Glor Irish Music Centre in Ennis. We reproduce that article in memory of a gentle woman whose unassuming nature belied her outstanding contribution to Clare's musical legacy. May she rest in peace.

One by one, the yellow leaves fall and find new homes among the cob¬ble and pavement of a quiet London thoroughfare. The year is 1999, November to be precise, and the icy weather has made the street a lonely place. Lonely and silent.
Just 50 feet away, however, the air is thick with the warm sound of mu¬sic. In the bed of his modest flat, Joe Hayes plays on his banjo. Sitting in a rocking chair nearby, Joe's mother Kitty works away on the concertina, swaying back and forth as she plays in the last of the winter sunshine.
The room sings with the music of west Clare, the sounds of home.
Just a month earlier, music was the last thing on Kitty's mind. Recently widowed and moving to London to care for her terminally ill son, she hadn't even picked up a concertina for more than 50 years.
But desperate times call for desperate measures.
"I married when I was 21 or 22, and 1 played on for a while then. But the babies started to come then and I had no time or energy for music. So it faded away. There were seven children to take care of and farm work to be done. It took up all our time.
"But I knew that maybe some day I might try it again. Then my husband got a stroke and passed away and the following year my son, who lived and worked in England, was diagnosed with cancer.
"I used go and spend weeks on end with him, just keeping him company and keeping things right, and trying to make him eat. In the end, he went out and bought the concertina and persuaded me to start playing again.
"He gave me all the encouragement in the world to go back and play and I finally gave in. I thought it was too late but he said no. He knew it would be good for me. He would have such a smile on his face when he saw that 1 was making progress. His face would light up. He loved it.
"He was playing music himself, even until the last few days before he died. We played together, him on the banjo or the tin whistle. When he finally lost his battle, it was such a shock to my system that I thought I wouldn't be able to play again, but as time went on, I found a healing in playing. I persuaded myself that I should do what he thought would make me happy. I wanted to do it in his memory."
Kitty's first taste of music came when she was just a girl, growing up in Moy in the 1930s.
"My father, Peter Smith, played the concertina. He used to play with Willie Clancy's father, Gilbert Clancy. They travelled the place on foot at the time — it was the time of the house dances.
"I remember him buying a new concertina on Christmas Eve. We were all young and we were fascinated with the music. I knew what music was since I was very young and I loved it. I was anxious to try and play it at some stage. My father was very possessive of his new concertina and I had to steal it off him every chance I got.
"Later on, I picked up bits and pieces that my father played. I had it all from listening to music. My head was bursting with the music but I had no way of playing it. But then my father gave in and gave me his concertina."
Kitty married concert flutist Josie Hayes, but it was not until she re¬turned in her early 70s from London after Joe's death, that the time was finally right for her own music career to take off.
"I used to go into Custy's in Ennis to look at concertinas — just to pass away the time when I was in town. Eoin O'Neill and John O'Connor worked there. They used to give me a concertina and a chair to sit down and play my bits and pieces.
"After some time, they asked me if I would play five or six tunes to put in a CD that they were making. I finally agreed. We recorded the lot in my daughter's kitchen in Ennis. We had a great ould time.
"I never felt the day passing. I never really understood what I was doing because I didn't know much about CDs at the time. As it ended up, they made a full CD of my music. I owe it to Eoin O'Neill for getting me on the road."
After the success of her first record, A Touch Of Clare, Kitty moved on to record her second CD, They'll Be Good Yet, with Dutch piper Peter Laban in 2005.
"I was very nervous. It was much worse the second time out because I knew what I was doing. There were times that I thought I would give it up. I didn't like the studio so Martin O'Malley brought down his mobile studio and recorded in my house. And we got through it in the end. It was good. I think I would be too nervous to record anymore. I've had a great time of it and so many peo¬ple have helped me along the way.
"I had six more in the family after I lost Joe. They were all so encouraging and helpful and helped me so much.
"So I'll keep playing the music as long as I can. It still has that healing feeling, that I am doing it for my son. He's still enjoying it with me. I know that he's looking down on me.
"Every time I go to play, I can see his face smiling. It's a wonderful feeling. I wouldn't tell that to many people because I don't think they'd believe me. But that's the feeling. That's the thing that gave me healing when I was broken-hearted."