In the elbow of the snug, our absent selves make ready –
open cases, ease bellows, tune strings – spread the rosin;
some chit-chat about weather, the match, a bit of world
news thrown in. Flute enters, shrugging off the raingear,
bicycle clips; Banjo tries to order drinks, plink-plink of
a coin on an empty glass. A few are already warming up
fingers, loosening wrists, softening lips; taking off into a
gentile O’Carolan set, maybe a jig or two, before letting
rip with a few high tempo reels…
