Mind me Harp, Mind me Harp – – –

Jack barely scrapes over the line this week – –

The title of this post is a reference to a comedic recording of a mythical Irish ceili band featuring the great Peter Sellers and produced by George Martin (later famous as the ‘fifth Beatle’).

But this is about ‘something completely different’.

My good friend Tom Swadley who leads a rather better band playing Irish traditional music, and based in Virginia and Tennessee, sent me a link to a documentary a few days ago. It traces the history of the Bothy Band from their inception to their recent 50th anniversary reunion concert.

The Bothy Band emerged in the 1970s along with a few others such as ‘Planxty’ and ‘De Danaan’ playing not just very skillfully but with an obvious deep understanding and love of their inherited Irish music. One of their first recordings was of a concert in Paris and like everyone else I was blown away when I first heard it.

They play mainly instrumental sets of tunes with the occasional song thrown in to break things up, but it’s the sets of tunes that grabs you. There’s a tremendous energy and drive that comes from the combination of guitar, bouzouki and keyboard topped with the pipes, fiddles and flute. As others have said – this takes Irish music into the equivalent of ‘rock and roll’!

The documentary is really excellent and traces their career from the earliest days, using archive material, fly on the wall snippets of their rehearsals for the reunion concert, and then finishes with the actual concert. It reminded me of another great documentary about ‘The Weavers’ preparation for their farewell concert at Carnegie Hall (not the one in Dunfermline!). The treatment seemed very similar. In some ways the Bothy Band did for Irish music what the Weavers did for American music, so somewhat fitting!

Here’s a link –

Not Gardening in Eden

Yesterday morning my daily Bible reading was Genesis, the creation story. It’s a very beautiful and mysterious story: the water was already there, it had to be gathered, there needed to be separations of many things. It never fails to move me and ignite my curiosity.

Especially yesterday, because after the Earth is full of plants and other things, dominion over them is given to the humans. I was thinking happy thoughts about the long line of connectedness with me putting in a garden, working with seeds and dirt, reaching back to God giving humans the first garden. That whole blowing it thing and the expulsion could wait. Give me my moment.

That moment was coming. Our friend Philip arrived to help, and he weeded one bed while I put up supports for peas in another. Then I went and got a truckload of dirt and compost to amend some soil; it took us 21 wheelbarrow loads to get it in the right places. By 2 pm, that 8 am “what a glorious thing to participate in” was more like “when is this going to be over.”

I doubt muscles in the Garden of Eden screamed “what the hell Lady” at Eve in the afternoon. I doubt their chickens decided eating new seed was better than eating grubs–which we were feeding them every time we found one. I know for a fact that Adam never had a blister on his baby toe from dirt getting inside his shoe and rubbing–they weren’t wearing shoes.

According to the story, at that time getting good food from the plants didn’t involve having to grow them yourself. Taking a line from Genesis, I snipped a bunch of fresh hosta shoots for dinner. Free food we didn’t grow, tasty for the taking. Philip, his partner Geoffrey, Jack and I sat down to last year’s carrots canned overwinter, the hosta shoots, and some nice Scottish Sausage patties Jack put together for us.

Go by mad world. Gardening may not be Eden, and my muscles may have the vocabulary of sailors this morning given the obscenities they are offering up with each move, but it was still fun.