Last Sunday I was at The Southwark Irish Festival on Peckham Rye Common. I watched two men singing about Donegal and eyes that shone like diamonds, but I didn't find out who these men were. I looked for clues on the net and unearthed a Trad Irish music session, every Sunday at The Old Dispensary on Camberwell Green. I went along tonight and was treated to swirly, jiggery Irish music - the kind I like. Fiddle, bodhran, tin whistle, mandolins, accordian and all that. The musicians had a corner of the pub pretty much to themselves, though they did have to share with an elderly chap, whom the pub may well have been built around, who lived on a green leather armchair in the same corner.
July 12th - Day 85
Last Sunday I was at The Southwark Irish Festival on Peckham Rye Common. I watched two men singing about Donegal and eyes that shone like diamonds, but I didn't find out who these men were. I looked for clues on the net and unearthed a Trad Irish music session, every Sunday at The Old Dispensary on Camberwell Green. I went along tonight and was treated to swirly, jiggery Irish music - the kind I like. Fiddle, bodhran, tin whistle, mandolins, accordian and all that. The musicians had a corner of the pub pretty much to themselves, though they did have to share with an elderly chap, whom the pub may well have been built around, who lived on a green leather armchair in the same corner.
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