In honour of the arrival of the arts festival, the film fleadh, and Druid getting back into their old home, here's a sort of a Syngesong to get us into the mood.
Scene: A kitchen in a miserable cottage in a miserable small town in the west of Ireland, in a period of depression just nine years after the turn of the century. The menfolk have gone to sea in their Dragon Glás to catch the big fish the Ericcson a Ceathar. It's raining, really pissing down actually, and two miserable wimmen sit by a fireside, sucking a firelighter. A pig sneezes quietly in the corner.
AULD WAN IN SHAWL— Oh Peigin, woebetide us all, and the burds fallin' off the trees with the hunger and the rust settlin on me deckin' as the cauld breeze blows in from the Atlantic and just us wimmen here and the smell of the herring down on the beach and the boats all gone from us, gone from us. What is to become of us, Peigin, what alas, me only daughter left to me since me whole family was taken from me in some terrible tragedy involving water and a dead sheep.
PEIGIN — I've lost them, I've lost me only...
AULD WAN IN SHAWL — Arragh Peigin, you’re always losing things. Pity ya didn't lose the wan shaggin thing ya should have lost and you'd be off me hands years ago.
PEIGIN — Aw, but you're terrible cruel mother and me what but two score and nine years old. Sure who'd have me now. And me here slaving all these years to make your Ready Brek and herring. If it wasn’t for me, we wouldn’t have the few shilling to get the fajitas and the droppeen of caffe moccha from the pier at the height of the shtorm.
AULD WAN IN SHAWL - Less of yer auld guff now. Tell me, is the news true from the mainland, that that Druideen wan is back from Amerikay, after the fling with the Tony fella in New York..
PEIGIN - Tis, mother. He bought her a new house, the Tony fella, she’s telling everywan.
AULD WAN IN SHAWL — A new house. Begorrah and bejaysus. How come she can get a man and you can’t. Hah?
PEIGIN - Ah mother, sure don’t ya know tis strange the man that would put afoot over the threshold and you this side of the grave. But you can be sure I’ll have wan before the last nail is hammered on your coffin. Anyway, tis not a new house he got her, but wan they had already on Druideen Lane
AULD WAN IN SHAWL — Did she get the grant? She was always great for getting the grant.
PEIGIN - Sure after she met Tony, tis no grant she needed. And next week, they’ll all be in the house. All the luvvies, with their polo necks straining to kiss each other and missing, atin’ hummus and virginarian stuff with no mate in it all, at all. And Gigli will be there singing, giving a concert in the new house.
AULD WAN IN SHAWL — Oh, is it that time again when they’ll be in the village with their tweed geansais with the bit of cow’s hide on the elbows. Going from fillum to fillum and supping chape wine and nodding with their grand words and soft ways saying ‘I don’t know about you Roger but that was simply marvellous,” when we all know they’re talking tríd a thóin.
PEIGIN - Tis mother, they call it the fillum flaw and then the festival.
Door opens. In comes a sodden young man.
MAD FECKIN' SON - I’m back mother, Back from the cruel sea with news that we could not catch the Ericsson a Cheathar.
AULD WAN IN SHAWL — Oh bejaypers, I forgot you were still alive, son. I tawt u were drownded years ago. What have ya for us? Herring, mackerel, we’re parched here. What did ya see out there ?
MAD FECKIN' SON - Ah mother, I come empty handed. For I caught the herring, the mackerel, but I spent it all on visual arts shows and milky tay called latte. An the gypsies, they have landed, with a big tent in the field beside the big school of learning and they’re all out laughing and singing and the whole town is out having fun and the craic for the festival has come to town.
AULD WAN IN SHAWL — Fun and craic is it? There’ll be none of that in this house. We need misery. MikeyJohnnyOg, get back to sea and don’t be coming back alive ruining my role. Peigin, butter me another briquette there. And batten down the windies so that we may see out the night in darkness.
The pig coughs softly in the corner and expires. And the curtain falls. Welcome to the Arts festival folks.
