Rotten Old Goat!

My dad was Scottish (an Edinburgh man) and mom is Irish. I always felt my Scots/Irish roots must somehow mean I had a natural rhythm and talent for music that would one day, emerge to save me from computers and a life behind a desk writing programs badly.

There are plenty of Irish pubs and clubs in Birmingham. I've lost count of the amount of folk rock bands in Digbeth I've seen over the years. I would stand there with my pint of Guinness swaying to the music and imagining an affinity with the act on the sweaty stage. I'd be tapping my leg in time with the beat of that wonderful bodhrán. Oh yes! I had hidden depths!

Cobblers! I bought that proper goatskin bodhrán a few months ago just before dad died along with two rosewood beaters, a little bottle of Bodhrán Conditioning Cream and a book (complete with DVD) intending to learn.

Anyway it stunk! My living room smelt of goat! It wore off after a few days of airing but various events transpired (Dad dying, namely) which made me forget my bodhrán completely.

I got it out of its case to take this picture. This song is one of my favourite tracks, haunting and sad. If you watch the lovely video, you will see a bodhrán or two on the walls behind Christy and his pals. Ornamental there too, you see!

A beautiful tune