It’s been our second non-parade St. Patrick’s Day here in Ireland but there have been lots of good things happening in smallish ways. For example, I saw three balloons representing the colours of the Irish flag tied to a gate when I was out for my constitutional this morning and lots of people wearing items of green clothing. Believe it or not, I didn’t see one sprig of shamrock yet and it’s 18:17 here.
The highlight of the day was undoubtedly all the attention that was being lavished across the world’s TV and radio stations on a group of young men who definitely seem to be a whole new generation of Irish dancers who will push on from the Riverdance era.
They are called Cairde (which means friends in English) and here is a clip of them in action. They really brought a great feeling of hope to me and a sense that there is incredible talent and creativity being unleashed in spite of the restrictions associated with the pandemic.
I especially like the fact that the backdrop to their dance today was The Cliffs of Moher in Co. Clare which had such meaning for my father who was a passionate Clareman. Here’s one of his photos of The Cliffs, as they are called by Clare people.
“A sense of humor is just common sense, dancing.” (Clive James)
This gem was sent to me in an email by a guy who has been an on and off contributor to my Poetry Thread on Linkedin, which has been weaving away for over three years now. He’s one of those people who has an amazing capacity to say the right thing at the right time.
Ever since I got the email a few days ago, I’ve been wondering what common sense dancing would look like and that thought process has brought me on all sorts of light hearted journeys but I keep coming back to this particular image of my late father:
Dad just loved to laugh, was a brilliant dancer and was full of common sense.
What makes this photo so humorous to me is the fact that Dad is sitting on grass and I can just hear him say: ‘ Who’s that bloody eejit?’ He got pneumonia as a kid from sitting on dewy grass after playing handball with his friends. He nearly died from it and spent the best part of a year in bed. We were never, ever, ever let sit on grass when he was around, unless there was a waterproof groundsheet beneath us.
I’d love to hear/see what images float into your head when you think of Humour as common sense, dancing.
Here’s a bit of Irish dancing to get those images tapping!