I adore banjos and indeed bagpipes. There's a chap who stands outside Marks and Spencer in Norwich piping away, wearing a very smart Highland dress complete with hairy sporran. It always brings tears to my eyes (I lived and worked in Scotland for some time) and I usually give him a few bob. Banjos have a sort of trying-to-be-cheerful-in-spite-of-adversity air about them. And seeing a homeless person sitting on the pavement sadly blowing a tin whistle makes us both tearful. My husband knows what poverty and destitution are, and he's the first to succumb and put some coins in the 'musician's' hat.
Bodhrans...well, why not? I say. 'All God's chillun got a place in de kwaya' and all that.