It is almost gratifying to hear people ask after Hortense, she who hovers in the nether recesses of the room, acquiver with excitement at the thought of yet another jam session; or not, as the case may be. She would not, as it turns out, have been disappointed with Sunday's shenanigans at all, leavened as it was with the 76th celebration of Alan's birth. There was an afternoon of fine music making, aural delights, wild jazz and blues, artistic creativity of the highest order etc etc. or she could have gone to the Leinster Jam Session instead, and heard the usual suspects mangling the usual tunes in the usual way, whilst the rest of us gossiped maliciously, spread doubtful rumours and sipped the occasional lunatic soup by way of diversion.
Al "Papa" Jazz is, as we are slowly realising, a natural on drums - you can tell he has never had a lesson in his life. He is so good he can play drums just as well in his sleep. . It seems like only yesterday that he discovered that drumsticks come in pairs. It is indeed a rare talent that takes seventy six years to reach this level of competence.
All in all, this was The Leinster Arms at its finest: packed to the gills and rocking. If you were there, and I haven't mentioned your name, it is because you are young, good looking and talented, and the rest of us are jealous. If you weren't there, then we were probably talking about you anyway.
But I digress. Hortense spent Sunday furniture shopping. (ah yes, that was the point I was getting to), so she may not have been at the Leinster after all. Intrigued by an ad that said all furniture was 50% off, and "Hurry!!! at this price the stock won't last long!" she rushed out and bought a sofa. Truth in advertising: the legs fell off on Monday morning.
See ya at the jam.