I miss the days with friends. We used to always start by going to Mass. Now it starts for me in a TV studio at 4:30 AM. Used to be we would then enjoy a fine breakfast among friends..... now I end up eating catered eggs, hash,.. blah blah .... at a corporate event. Then another. Later in the daywe used to find a corner of a pub and play and sing for whoever wanted to listen. Now the we head off for the loony time, when we play the pubs full of drunk folks wearing wierd clothes and drinking green beer, until we collapse in our own beds at half 2 the next morning, our pockets full of money, but our hearts emptied of the joy of a day to just reflect and celebrate.

The one thing we have refused to give up in the pursuit of the dollar is when we play for the kids at St. Patrick's School, Parnell, MI, USA. We go there, the kids, ranging from 5 years old to 15 years old, and we play them the happy music of our people, they all get up and dance merrily around the gym, some dancing the proper steps, others just with the joy of being young, allowed to move, and listening to the reels and jigs and letting the joyful noise infect their precious souls. We tell of the history of the place they are in, and how a people came there. This year a neighbor brought over their Wolfhound whose name is Tiernan. I told the kids about Bran, and Aibe, and Gelert, and how young Setanta became Cuchullain. We have many paid gigs during the leadup to St. Pat's and the celebration of the day. But I and my bandmates refuse to give up this one. It may not pay in coin of the realm, but it certainly pays much better than anything we do.

So the exercise in Hibernian self flagellation is over for another year.

I miss the old days........

Mick