Stories

St Stephens Day and the Wren Boys

Posted on January 5, 2015 by singersong

In Ireland no one seems to talk about Boxing Day – It’s St Stephens Day. But when I ask who St Stephen was, it’s like asking an Irish trad musician the name of the tune they just played. I just get a blank look.

So I did some research. Stephen was in fact a Greek-speaking Hellenistic Jew who died around 34 AD and was the first martyr of Christianity. He was accused of blasphemy and stoned to death. Thanks Wikipedia.

In Ireland though the day is also known as Lá an Dreoilín, meaning the Day of the Wren, an apparent reference to legends linking the wren to episodes in the life of Jesus. People (mainly kids) dress up in old clothes, wear straw hats and travel from door to door with fake wrens (previously real wrens were killed) and they dance, sing and play music.

It is also used by charitable organisations to raise funds so when Michael Talty asked me if I wanted to join the Wren Boys from the local Kilmurry-Ibrickane GAA I jumped at the chance. It meant getting up at 6.30, the morning after Christmas, which I had spent with friends in Connemara, and driving back to Quilty to be there at 10.00. Not easy.

The weather was not good. Cold and the threat of rain. A number of musicians and dancers had congregated in the GAA clubrooms and we were split into two teams of three musicians and four dancers. The idea was to go door to door to every home in the Parish, do a quick half set and solicit donations. First we had to agree on a tune (I won’t mind if I don’t hear Sally Gardens again!) and a speed, so after a quick run through with Pat on flute and Gerard on whistle and my fiddle tucked under my coat we piled into a windowless van and hit the streets.

We stopped outside every house (except those that the locals knew to be unoccupied) and knocked on the door. Without ceremony we would launch into Sally Gardens, the dancers would do their thing and we would be off again. People were very generous; I saw the odd 50 drop into the tin. Many made a donation and out of sympathy for us in the cold waved us on without playing. And cold it was. Squalls of drizzly rain swept in as the temperature seemed to continue to drop during the day. Eventually I resorted to playing in gloves and after a bit of practice, made a decent fist of it. I would tuck my fiddle under my coat when not playing and managed to keep it out of the elements. The bow however was another story. Ever tried to play with a wet bow?

Occasionally we were invited inside and that was special, as tables and chairs were pushed aside and if you briefly closed your eyes you could imagine you were transported back fifty years to a kitchen ceili. Occasionally we were also offered beer or cider. In one house we were treated to slices made by Amish girls in traditional headgear and costumes. There must have been a dozen of them. The things you find in West Clare.

There was a welcome break at Cooney’s Pub in Quilty, who put on soup and sandwiches, and then it was back out in the afternoon continuing what was a very long and challenging day until darkness descended finishing on my own street, the Clogher Road. Very fitting.

Despite the privations I had a ball and enjoyed the whole experience – a window into an Ireland that foreigners would likely not see. Thanks Michael and all my fellow dancers and musicians who accepted me and made me feel part of the community. For the record we raised 2,200 euros.

Categories: Stories, Trad Irish Music | Tags: Boxing Day, Clare, dancing, fiddle, GAA, half set, Ireland, Irish music, Kilmurry-Ibrickane, music, photography, Quilty, Sally Gardens, St Stephen, St Stephen's Day, St Stephen's Feast, the Wren, travel, Wren boys | 3 Comments

Christmas Concert Mullagh

Posted on December 22, 2014 by singersong

I was part of an extraordinary event last night.

I had never heard of Marty Morrissey but around these parts he seems to be a god. I’m talking here about the Parish of Kilmurry-Ibrickane in West Clare. A mouthful but it is my adopted home community. It comprises the villages of Quilty, Mullagh and Coore. Kilmurry-Ibrickane is a famous name in the world of GAA (that’s Gaelic Football for my Aussie followers) and Marty is its leading advocate. He is a well-known sports commentator for RTE and a passionate advocate of the local community. To this end he organised this concert as a fund raiser. Through his many contacts he gathered together a who’s-who of Irish music with a strong focus on local talent. And there is plenty of that.

When I first heard of the concert I tried to get a ticket but it sold out in four days. One of the organisers, Michael Talty offered me a spare ticket which I gleefully accepted. It wasn’t cheap but I was intrigued by the concept.

It was a wet and dismal night, though not cold there was a gusty wind blowing off the Atlantic. But then again that describes most nights these days in this part of West Clare. I arrived into Mullagh to an army of men in hi-vis yellow and waving red or green wands directing me to the GAA oval where I was told to park and a mini bus ferried me the short distance to the church. I was impressed by the organisation. The St James Church Mullagh was hardly recognisable with a giant marquee erected in front of it. It was 6.00 pm and the tent seemed nearly full already. The concert didn’t start til 7.30 but here was no shortage of hot mulled wine and mince tarts which I eagerly accepted when proffered. There were a few people I recognised from my interactions with the community. And a few who seemed to know me, though I was struggling to recognise them. I was asked by one lady if I was the Parish Priest of Ennis and another who asked me if I was still coming to Christmas Dinner. Do I have some doppelgängers out there?

I was shown to my pew which was already fully occupied but they squeezed up and let me in. The seat was in the far corner about as far from the stage as possible but it had the advantage of being close to the door so I could sneak out if need be. I know that seems unkind, but I was not sure I was going to enjoy this night.

The concert started pretty much on time at 7.30 which was a surprise for Ireland but as it was being streamed live this was understandable. This in itself was pretty impressive, with the concert being seen around the world. I have to say we were then treated to a marvellous and continuous panoply of artists for the next 5½ hours. That’s right! five-and-a-half-hours! Remarkably there were no flat spots and myself and the audience were held in thrall for all that time with the possible exception of the raffle draw. Although with the prize of two return tickets to Australia even that was attention grabbing.

From the opening act which was the Scoil Mhuire Choir, who made a spectacular entrance to the stage holding candles and walking on from three directions before delivering a sparkling and spellbinding performance. And it was only uphill from there. Following a rock star welcome for Marty we had the Kilfenora Ceili Band sounding splendid and looking equally so in their red and black outfits. They were joined by a team of set dancers from the Eugene Donnelan School which lifted the whole performance.

Not all the music was to my personal taste. There was crooning country singer Mike Denver with a medley of Christmas songs, P J Murrihy and his band, local singer from Cree, Karen McInerny, Tommy Flemming, for whom the audience went wild and the penultimate act of the night Phil Coulter who delivered as expected with lovely renditions of his songs Steal Away and Town I Loved So Well.

The highlights of course, for me though, were the trad acts, most of which were local musicians. Musicians from the Brid O’Donoghue Music School from Miltown Malbay gave a beautifully textured performance of slow tunes, jigs and reels ending with two young boys doing sean nos dancing on half barrels. There was exquisite accordion playing from Michael Sexton and he was joined by talented young sean nos dancer Eoin Killen in a superb display of relaxed and confident dancing. A future star. The Donnellan Family from Ballina, Co Mayo were terrific with their energetic playing and again one of their members Carol, did a sensational sean nos brush dance. There was a scratch band of local musicians led by Michael Falsy who had the audience stomping with a rousing rendition of Lark in the Morning, and an absolute standout for me, a gorgeous rendition by Martin and Ronan Burke of the song the Clogher Road. Special, because I live on this road! And I shouldn’t forget the local Kilmurry-Ibrickane Community Choir which included kids to grandparents and did a highly creditable job.

The grand finale which took us past 1 am was provided by the Galway Tenors who started off rather shakily with a crowd pleasing version of Fields of Athenry, an aria accompanied by waving scarves in red and green (provided to the audience in their programmes) and finished with some rousing Christmas carols.

In between the acts were slide shows, videos, old films, documentaries, all speaking of the great community spirit in this Parish and I have to say this spirit shone through all night. The audience of locals lapped it up, picking up on the many in-jokes. The story of the “spirit of Quilty” with the rescue of the sailors from the Leon, the successes of the Kilmurry-Ibrickane GAA team, a film of set dancing in the Quilty pub from 1970s, video greetings, from Australia, NZ and the USA, from the Mullagh and Quilty diaspora, photo albums of parishioners much of it received with enthusiastic clapping or laughter. And a spoof RTE News flash reporting on the traffic jams crippling West Clare as cars head to Mullagh. All great craic.

I have one gripe. Most of the “name” artists used backing tracks. The exceptions to this of course were the trad acts and Phil Coulter who accompanied himself on the piano. For me this is very sad that high-profile acts to do this. When you pay 40 euros for a ticket you expect to see live music. Singing to a backing track for me is no better than karaoke and gives the voice a detached feel and is rarely satisfying. It certainly lacks spontaneity. It may be alright for the X-Factor but not for a live concert. Anyway that’s pretty much my only beef and the rest of the audience didn’t seem to share it clapping excitedly for every number.

Fair play to the organisers they did an absolutely fabulous job.

Merry Christmas to all my followers and please stay tuned for more adventures in 2015.

Categories: Stories, Trad Irish Music | Tags: Christmas Concert, Clare, GAA, Ireland, Irish music, Kilmurry-Ibrickane, Marty Morrissey, Miltown Malbay, Mullagh, Phil Coulter, photography, Quilty, traditional music, travel | 2 Comments

The Connemara Hills are alive with the Sound of Music (and Galway too)

Posted on December 20, 2014 by singersong

Last weekend I headed for Galway and Connemara. I had had a previous brief visit to Connemara when I attended the TraidPhicnic in Spiddal, but never Galway and I have to say I loved it.

The immediate reason was to attend a Master Class and House Concert by Maurice Lennon at Bridge Barker’s house deep in the wilds of remote Connemara. A great initiative from Bridge to open her house for this – hopefully the first of many.

The trip up from Clare was treacherous with my first experience of driving in sub-zero temperatures and on slippery roads. There was definitely no hurrying. I collected Maurice in Glaway on the way and became so engrossed in the conversation that we managed to end up on a detour along the shores of Lough Corib, that meant the trip took an extra hour. Once we got there the weather was kind enough, so that while Maurice took the kids’ class, I went for a short walk with Vince, Bridge’s partner. They live with their family in a stone cottage that, chameleon-like, blends into the rocky Connemara landscape. Bridge tells me it has been in her family for generations. They have turned a traditional stone cottage into a wonderfully warm and welcoming family home. Adjacent is an abandoned cottage, apparently formerly that of a tailor. It seems to have been empty for decades but still stands remarkably intact as a reminder of the hardship that must have been life in these parts. There was no road and customers would have to ride up the rocky ridges to be fitted. The house has a central room with a large fire place and a door on either side. One can imagine this was the kitchen and the centre of family life. Maybe even where music was played. On either side of this is what would have been the bedrooms each with a smaller fire. Relics of a tough existence are everywhere including bottles and empty containers, an old Singer sewing machine stand and empty and derelict hand crafted furniture. The roof is made of timbers nailed together and filled with bog material and then presumably covered in thatch but now corrugated iron. The windows small anyway are almost completely blocked with stone allowing only a tiny opening to minimise the ingress of rain and wind but making the house very dark. There were no windows on the western and southern sides speaking eloquently as to where the weather comes from. A marvellous window into a past world but not too far distant from the reality of living here now.

Nearby in the rocky bog-covered landscape was a delightful creek with water cascading over granite boulders and flowing through the brown tufts of grass, dotted with patches of bright green where richer glacial tills have provided more fertile ground. Numerous walled fields provide evidence of a much more intensive agriculture on the slopes of the barren hills.

This area was a renowned location for the manufacture of poteen, the famed liquor made traditionally from malted barley but later from corn or potatos. Poteen manufacture was and is of course illegal and so it prospered in remote areas like Connemara where unwelcome visitors could be seen coming for miles. It is said that from the top of the hill behind the house you could see someone coming from Oughterard, 20km away as the crow flies. Vince showed me an old still, one of four in the immediate area. These are used to build a turf fire and heat the wash for several days while guards stood watch ready to respond to anyone attracted by the smoke. The quality of the poteen was highly variable and it needed a fair bit of skill. A bad batch is said to cause blindness. I was given a taste by a fiddler friend when I visited Cork City recently, and I have to say it was terrific. Sure packed a punch though.

As the misty rain set in and hid the snow-capped hills in the distance we returned in time for me to join Maurice for the workshop. There were seven of us and it was a delight. Plenty of good advice on how to hold the bow and how to get a better sound and we learned a couple of Maurice’s own tunes in an intensive hour and a half. Then a quick trip to the nearest pub (about 20 minutes away) for a cleansing ale and some fresh air with Maurice. I don’t want to offend anyone who may come from this part of the world but you could hardly say we were welcomed, or if we were it was with suspicion. There was no small talk as the half dozen or so punters went about their business as If we weren’t there. Slightly uncomfortable.

Returning for some tunes and some curry we then settled in for a concert in the front room of Bridge’s house, in front of a roaring fire, comprising a couple of hours of solo fiddle and viola from Maurice. There was some inspired playing. We all joined in for a couple of sets at the end. Really a special night with the stone walls reflecting a brilliant sound. Those who travelled into the Connemara wilderness were well rewarded.

I was very kindly put up by Bridge and even before the scrambled eggs were put on the stove next morning I joined Bridge and her talented daughter Siofra in some tunes around the kitchen table. When Maurice arrived back from his lodgings he joined in. A true ‘kitchen session’.

I had decided to spend a couple of extra days in Galway and catch some of the sessions of which so many people had raved. So dragging ourselves away at lunch time I returned with Maurice who was also staying in Galway. There was a slight detour as I stopped every now and then for some photos and a further delay as we caught the second half of the Manchester United – Liverpool game (won by Man U) in a pub in Oughterrard.

Arriving late in the afternoon I went on a search for music. I ended up meeting fellow Aussie friend , Alice at Taaffe’s Bar where there is a 5:30 session every day. So civilised. Why don’t they do this in Ennis? This was the first of three sessions I attended that night and over the three days I was there I went to eight. There was a memorable session late on Sunday at the Old Forge where we were entertained among other things by a Santa-clad mini-skirted drag queen doing an Irish step dance with a packet of Tayto’s in one hand. Brilliant. It was great craic everywhere and hopefully the pictures give some idea of it. I met some wonderful people with as much passion for the music as I see in Ennis. Plenty of blow-ins who have made Galway home. As well as Alice from Oz, there is Ana from Brazil, Brandon from England, Anders from Netherlands, Patrick and Sean from San Francisco, and others from Spain, Germany and the odd Irishman. Lots of interaction too between the musicians and the punters, many of them tourists hearing Irish music for the first time and having a fabulous time. I was kindly invited to a great house session on Tuesday, led by Sean Flanagan, a box player, designed for intermediate players to learn and share tunes. Brilliant idea. I returned to Ennis renewed and inspired and vowing to visit Galway again soon. Thanks to everyone who made me feel so welcome.

The sun shone briefly on Monday and I took the opportunity to go for a drive through the magnificent Connemara hills to Clifden. Glorious. I will post some photos from these travels soon in another blog. The photos here are all from near Bridge’s house or in Galway City.

Distant snow, Connemara

Tailor’s cottage, Connemara

Tailor’s Cottage, Connemara

Inside Tailor’s Cottage, Connemara

Poteen still, Connemara

Cascade, Connemara

Barn, Connemara

Maurice Lennon, Fiddle Master Class, Connemara

Maurice Lennon Fiddle Master Class, Connemara

Maurice Lennon, Adult Fiddle Master Class, Connemara

Maurice Lennon, Adult students Fiddle Master Class, Connemara

Maurice Lennon, Kitchen session at Bridge Barker’s, Connemara

Maurice Lennon, Bridge Barker. Kitchen Session

Hungry sheep, Connemara

Session, Taaffe’s Pub, Galway

Session, Taaffe’s Pub, Galway. Sandra

Session, Taaffe’s Pub, Galway. Alice

Session, Taaffe’s Pub, Galway. Happy listeners

Session, Taaffe’s Pub, Galway

Session. Tig Coili, Galway

Session, Taaffe's Pub, Galway. Maurice Lennon

Session, Tig Coili, Galway. Maurice Lennon

Session, Tig Coili, Galway

Session, Old Forge Pub, Galway

Session, Old Forge Pub, Galway. Dancing Santa

Session, Garvey’s Pub Galway

Session, Garvey’s Pub, Galway

Visitors from Germany, Garvey’s Pub Galway

House Session, Galway

Another session at Taaffe’s Galway

Categories: Sessions, Stories, Trad Irish Music | Tags: Connemarra, Festival, fiddle, Galway, Ireland, Irish music, Master class, Maurice Lennon. House Concert, music, photography, Sessions, traditional music, travel | Leave a comment

The Session of the Summer

Posted on September 2, 2014 by singersong

Geraldine Cotter, Ronan Browne, Peadar O’Loughlin, Maeve Donnelly and Tony Linnane at Kelly’s in Ennis.

I have to share this story.

The other afternoon Graham and Niamh were having a Guinness at Kelly’s in Ennis and casually asked the barman if there were any tunes that night. He said he thought Peadar O’Loughlin was playing. Peadar is a legend of Irish music and well into his 80s and rarely plays in public now so Graham said I shouldn’t miss him even if just to listen. So I went along. What Graham didn’t know and the barman didn’t tell him was that it was a private function for Peadar’s 50th Wedding Anniversary.

When I got there, there was a gathering of about 10 musicians and they were in full flight as I walked in with my fiddle. There was a crowd seated and standing around them and all eyes turned in my direction. But as if they were waiting for me to arrive there was a vacant seat in the midst of the musicians. I was encouraged by the onlookers to sit there, even though they had no idea who I was. Intimidated, I just sat motionless, not wanting to attract attention, and listened, though when they launched into Craig’s Pipes I hesitatingly got my fiddle out and quietly joined in. I got talking to Nancy, who was sitting next to me and instantly recognised my Australian accent (a rarity as only about two in ten do!). She whispered in deferential tones the names of the musicians. Next to me were fiddlers Tony Linnane, and Maeve Donnelly, then Peadar also on fiddle, then piper Ronan Browne, then Geraldine Cotter on piano and Eamonn Cotter on flute, then another flute player, Jim O’Connor, and then two more pipers, whose names just faded away as my mind tried to digest the horsepower in this amazing gathering. One I later identified as Maire Ni Ghrada. The music was out of this world. Sweet combination of fiddles, flutes and pipes. Irish music – as it was meant to be. A truly magical experience.

This was the session of the summer for me and a memory I will treasure. I have only one photograph as my presence there was intrusion enough.

One day I fear I will wake up and find that all this is a dream.

Categories: Sessions, Stories, Trad Irish Music | Tags: Clare, Ireland, Irish music, photography, Sessions, traditional music, travel | Leave a comment

McArthur’s Bar Tulla

Posted on August 29, 2014 by singersong

I mentioned McArthur’s Bar in my recent blog on Tulla. I want to say a few more words on it. This place deserved to be in the late Peter McCarthy’s wonderful book McCarthy’s Bar even though he would have had to stretch the qualifications a bit (If you haven’t read this book it is a must; it is one of the best travel books written on Ireland). I saw the pub during the day and it looked to be just another abandoned building. A peek through the window failed to see any sign of life or even recent use and the weeds growing behind the front window did not look promising. But walking past it at midnight there was a glow of lights through the drawn shades and blurry shadows through the frosted window pane. And the door was just slightly ajar. A familiar murmur came from behind the door. The quiet hum you get from a pub pretending to be shut. I went through the door into the narrowest of rooms and it was jam-packed. With my fiddle on my back I could hardly squeeze through the door and then past the throng. I could hear music and I stood there momentarily until someone seeing my fiddle nodded his head towards the back saying “it’s in there”. I made my way through another narrow door into another crowded room. I couldn’t help but notice the floor as I walked up a distinct concrete slope. One can only imagine this being a huge advantage when they hose it out at the end of the day.

The music was getting louder as I reached the back room. It was coming from a bunch of kids most of whom looked under 15. By now it was midnight. Their parents were watching and lemonades in hand they were producing magic music. I felt like an intruder but was invited to sit in. It was as good a session as any I had been to in Ireland.

This experience showed to me a window into the ‘real’ Ireland. A country that has gone through centuries of struggle and subjugation, indeed attempts to eliminate the Irish music and language, was here thumbing its collective nose at petty authority that says children can’t be in a pub after 9pm. Wonderful.

I said in an earlier post that one needs to “go with the flow” in Ireland. After this experience I should add “if you see an open door go through it”.

McArthur’s Bar in Tulla

McArthur’s Bar in Tulla at Midnight.

Categories: Sessions, Stories, Trad Irish Music | Tags: Clare, Festival, Ireland, Irish music, music, pub, session, travel, Tulla | 1 Comment

House Session at Kilmaley

Posted on June 24, 2014 by singersong

I was invited to a House Session last night at Patsy O’Grady’s house near Kilmaley on the night of the 23rd June, After some difficulty finding the place we arrived to a roaring bonfire celebrating the Summer solstice and St Johns day. A few of my new friends were there (Thierry, Fu, Geraldine, Liam Lewis) and I was warmly welcomed by the host and his family. We soon moved inside into a renovated cow shed and played some tunes. It was the most luxurious cow shed I have ever played in! The sound was fantastic. Pipes, bouzouki, box, concertina, banjo and six fiddles. Who could ask for more?

There was some lovely sean nos dancing from Suzanne Leahy and some sets as well. It was a brilliant night and it seemed to me to be a bit of an insight into what being Irish means in this part of the world, harking back to a tradition of music in the house that seems to be nearly gone. It was so nice to play outside a pub with an attentive audience, lovely food, dancing and time for conversation.

Thanks Patsy. And thanks Trish for inviting me.

Categories: Sessions, Stories, Trad Irish Music | Tags: dancing, Ennis, Ireland, Irish music, photography, sean nos, session, travel | Leave a comment

A Night at Gus O’Connor’s Doolin

Posted on June 19, 2014 by singersong

Today was one of those days that are not supposed to happen in Ireland. The temperature reached 27 degrees in Ennis with clear blue skies. The country went a little crazy – wherever you looked you were dazzled with displays of white skin with guys taking their t shirts off and girls wearing skimpy shorts that clearly don’t get much use.

That evening I decided to drive the half hour to Doolin to sample again the session at Gus O’Connor’s. I have written a lot about Sessions but this one is different. For the most part the sessions in Ennis are ignored by the punters who just talk louder so they hear themselves over the top of the music. Or the pub might be nearly empty and silent with people politely applauding after every number. At Doolin, O’Connor’s is always chock a block with tourists. The pub does a roaring trade on the back of Doolin’s reputation for trad music. I had been reluctant to go there because of the perception that the ‘real’ Doolin had gone but I thought I’d give it another go.

It was Noel O’Donoghue on flute and Seanie Vaughan on box with Brian Mooney on bouzouki. It didn’t get off to that good a start when Noel whispered across to me that they were in Eb and he suggested I retune the fiddle. I had never done this before and it took a while as they got sick of waiting for me to and started playing. Eventually sorted and I could join in. The music was great – fast and tight. Then Ted McCormack (who seems to be a regular) arrived and sang a few songs. I got chatting to a family from Virginia, Mike and his three daughters (Kate Jenny and Ciara) here in Ireland for nine weeks. They come every two years and have been since the girls were babies. Lucky girls! Seanie persuaded Mike to sing a song and he did an excellent rendition of Bold Thady Quill after which his eldest daughter Kate sang Spancil Hill. Takes courage to get up in front of a crowded pub and sing. No doubt they will take away priceless memories. This started a progression of songs from the audience including Frits from Holland, with two lovely Irish ballads, an Irish guy with Band Played Waltzing Matilda, myself with Jim Jones and Níamh from Mallow in Cork who sang Caledonia. There was a great atmosphere and the punters appeared well satisfied. I went over afterwards and had a chat with Niamh and her friend Tina They were in Doolin on holidays which was great. Irish touring Ireland. They delighted in telling me there address was Newtwopothouse Mallow (is there an Oldtwopothouse Mallow?) and Tina wasted no time in telling me I should visit Kinsale and her sister’s restaurant for a fine dining experience. They were great crack as they extolled the virtues of Cork City over Dublin and why it should be the capital of Ireland and what was wrong with Perth in Western Australia and their views on the Irish living there and anything else that came to mind. The night finished at 1.00 am and I headed home along empty roads with a giant glowing half moon sitting just above the horizon. But the night wasn’t completely over!

A few kilometres outside Ennistymon I was flagged down by a guy who said he was walking from Ennistymon to Ennis a distance of twenty something k’s. Against my better judgement I picked him up and he explained that there had been some trouble, a fight or something, in Ennistymon and the Garda had told him to get out of town. This did not sound promising. He was trying to phone his wife who had the car and was pregnant and…yes I learnt a lot about Dylan and Siobhan in that few minutes. Eventually he made contact with her and they then proceeded to have a domestic over what he did or didn’t say to a friend at a party. The conversation was pretty intense but I could only hear one side of course. It didn’t take much to fill in the gaps between the ‘you fecking eejit’s that filled the car . There was then a convoluted discussion with her about getting me to drop him at the brown house in a remote village where the drugs were and that he had the 300 euros. Now I was really concerned. Anyway we finally we found a house he was happy to be dropped at and he disappeared into the black……I was glad to be shot of Dylan and got safely home at 2:00am. Ireland continues to surprise.