Jennyo and JennieG were hanging out. There was Jacko Kevins, entrancing the crowd with "4 Little Johnny Cakes" on his singing concertina, while Bob McGuinness fiddled along on his violin. Bob, with his long long legs, his impish eyes and his kilt, was like an elongated elf, with greying beard, whose and hands and violin, spent so long together, had grown into each other, lithe twisting branches of old music made warm anew in the session tent.
Jennyo remembered Magenta talking about the days she had danced to Bob's fiddle in the old Yarralumla Woolshed, doing the Pride of Erin with the lads. Where were they all now? Bright of eye and red of nose, sipping guinnesses in the tent at Jamberoo.
But where was Magenta? Jennyo wondered, Magenta had been acting a little strange recently. Rhymin Simon was complaining, she was becoming a handful.