According to my mother whose stories were more apt to be fabricated than truth, I had a six foot red headed great grandfather, pure Irish. Could this be? I'll probably never know, but I have always had a fondness for old Irish ballads. I recently sent in my saliva for genetic testing, so maybe I'll find out.
One thing I'll say about my maternal family is that they were all poor, but they had a great time singing, especially after a few beers. And they grew and cooked great potatoes. Last night Rainbow Women had a lovely program of Irish music put on by great musicians. I so looked forward to singing along to the likes of Long Road to Tipperary and Danny Boy, but it turned out to be more original celtic music.
Lovely in its own way, and definitely peppy. But driving the short way home I found myself singing
the songs from childhood memories, and feeling nostalgic for a simpler life (though not a potato famine).
The photo above is from a book club dinner party a couple of years ago. Whether I have Irish blood or not, I do love the merriment. The photo below goes with next week's blog. Just a hint of what's brewing.