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Tony's Birthday Party
Tony Donnellan wanted to celebrate his sixtieth birthday so he booked the Flora Public House down the Harrow Road in London W10. The area around here is known as the Queen?s Park estate and when it was built it was decreed that no alcohol could be sold in the precincts. Certainly no public house was allowed so it was a suitable location at the Flora pub to make up for the many years of abstinence that had so fortified the inner souls of the residents of Queens Park.. Tony and his friends recognised the value of history but were out to enjoy themselves with a couple of pints to chivvy the night along.
The musicians had assembled early and had come from the Old Bell on the Kilburn High Road - a very old established Irish hostelry where Irish music had long been practiced. There was guitar and banjo, tin whistle and uileann pipes and Johnny, a travelling Clare musician, joined in with his fiddle especially on the reels and hornpipes. Tony comes from Clare and the cry went up for the My Lovely Rose of Clare:
Oh my lovely rose of Clare
You?re the sweetest girl I know
You?re the queen of all the roses
Like the pretty flowers that grow
You are the sunshine of my life
So beautiful and fair
And I will always love you
My lovely rose of Clare
The wife of the travelling musician was tucking into pints of bitter in an accomplished manner. The Rose of Clare touched a spot in this Clare woman for her voice sang out which was made up of Burren rock and wild Clare sky and soft west coast rain.
It was full of a granite sound, laden with a local fauna and garnished with curlew wings.
She knew that she was on home ground and her voice resonated around this west London pub and we could only guess at which part of the Clare landscape she was passing through. The musicians sang well and gave us the old favourites from ?Dublin in the Rare Old Times? to ?The Fields of Athenry?. What is it about the ?The Fields? that moves so quickly into Irish bloodstreams. Its haunting air coupled with a sense of forced emigration and memories of home leaves one with a sore heart.
The regular clientele of the pub were ranged up round the bar. They looked like men and women that you would not mess with; brought up the hard way and accustomed to quickly sorting out problems if tested. They gave you a firm look but appreciated that if you were with Tony?s birthday party you were acceptable. At least for that night. One of the regulars meandered over to the band and requested a song in the manner of one who partly knew what he wanted and insisted on getting it. He was a bit jarred but sober enough to realise that it was Cockles and Mussels that he would like to hear. He sang on his own; sang with the band and the audience hoped that he could get it all out of his system and we could get on with the night One of the gents mentioned that he was always like that; like what I wondered; a bit pushy or a bit out of balance. Maybe he too was remembering and was wandering down some old cobbled Dublin street.
The food appeared and it was a good spread. Everybody tucked in and the band laid down their instruments and rebuilt their energies. Champagne appeared and we drank Tony?s health and watched as he hit the dance floor with his partner for a session of waltzes. The band gave us a couple more rousing songs and we prepared for home. I had to make it down the Harrow Road to Maida Vale and I was a spot apprehensive. It has a reputation for mugging and especially near two roads that I had to pass by.
I did not have to worry. I was given a lift home by Evelyn and her friends and as I prepared for sleep the music of Clare rambled through my heart and swept me away to a night of dreams.
Oh the sun it shines out like a jewel
On the lovely hills of Clare
As I strolled along with my sweet lass
One evening at the fair
Her eyes they shone like silver streams
Her long and golden hair
For I have won the heart of one
My lovely Rose of Clare
As we walked down by the river bank
Watched the Shannon flowing by
And listened to the nightingale
Singing songs for you and I
And to say farewell
To all you true and fair
For I have stolen the heart of one
My lovely rose of Clare
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