I think this photo says it all. Taken by Mark at Hobart airport, he provided the wonderful caption:

The Outpatient, The Inpatient, The Enforcer.

Cheers all

Oh, the next morning wasn't pretty for me. We were up again at 8am, and I was a complete and utter bleary-eyed zombie. I truly do hate mornings, I just can't get up early. It took me so long to actually wake up and get going! Helen spent the majority of the morning giving me hugs and holding me up

We headed over to the Senior Citizen's club to catch Ruth Lee Martin's Gaelic Singing workshop. It was fantastic, she made something so foreign-sounding easy to sing. Go Ruth! The boys didn't sing, they sat in the back, they were as exhausted as I was (funnily enough, I always have energy to sing), plus Mannie was in the middle of his Nurofen detox, so I thought it best to leave him alone at that point, lest I cop the end of a big Belfast rant! We couldn't stay for all of the workshop which was unfortunate, as I really enjoyed myself, but we all had to hit the road and get back to Helen's.

The hardest part was saying goodbye. The wonderful Kevin called Mannie and demanded we meet him at the Bass & Flinders so he could say farewell. You just have to love the bonds you form with people! We also caught up with the Hellands, who had us in hysterics telling us that they stayed up all night drinking and chasing rabbits in a nearby field - as you do! You guys are fantastic and damn talented - keep in touch and don't stop the tunes!! We climbed in our cars (I was driving Helen's big sexy red truck - tomboy Sairey!) and gave Sean Roche a drive-by wave

Sunas would like to send massive thanks and big Mannie love-hugs to Bob & Jenny Pooley, without whom this brilliant festival would not have happened. You opened your homes to us and we cannot thank you enough for everything you have done, it was much appreciated. Thanks to Mick Flanagan, Kevin Doyle & Sean Roche for the support and encouragement in the sessions - it meant more than we can possibly say. We would also like to thank every one of the new friends we have made along the way for the tunes and good times. Roll on next year!

So it was the end of the Tamar Valley festival, but Sunas was back on the road again - which meant Rabbit, Mark & Lee were making mischief in the blue car (I'm sure the underpants were intact!), but the original Sunas members - Mannie, Paul, Helen & myself - were banging around in the big red truck (driven by yours truly and loving every minute of it! I can still remember the smell of the interior of that truck), and of course it was chaos aplenty. I had the most wonderful moment singing with Mannie to Travis' song 'Sing' driving through the gorgeously wild green Tasmanian landscape and watching inky black clouds loom up in front of me. It was literally like the calm before the storm. The rain began to fall and as the storm progressed (it lasted well over two hours - I think we were driving with it!) I made damn sure I drove carefully. I had precious cargo on board, so my eyes never left the road. The storm raged around us, but inside the truck we were all having the greatest time, it was quite an exhilarating feeling! There was mist hanging low over the mountains, creating the most breathtaking scenery.  At one point Mannie and Paul were like children outside a candy store, with their faces pressed up against the glass. It was still raining when we arrived back at Stanton, absolutely exhausted, but on a huge high from the most incredible weekend. Paul slipped into his coffee-making routine, and we just sat around Helen's living room drinking coffee and reflecting - I think we were all full to bursting with wonderful memories and brilliant moments

Damn I love this band!

Listening to: 'Monsoon' by Luka Bloom

After heading to bed at 2am, I was hoping to have a semi sleep in, but no, we were up at 8:30am to a grey -laden sky. I was so excited from the previous night's events and looking forward to today's events that the adrenaline kicked in and I didn't feel tired soon afterward We had said goodbye to Rachi the night before, as she had to fly back to Brisbane to attend her brother Dave's wedding. Rachi & Mark pulled an impressive all nighter - they didn't have any sleep as Rachi's flight left Launceston at 5am, well done!

I had been checking the program religiously, and although I don't play fiddle, I decided to attend Chris Stone's Scottish fiddle workshop to see if I could pick up some tunes and ways to teach others - you can learn a tremendous amount from these things.

The boys and I went and had a lovely breakfast of bacon and eggs (I even managed to sneak a coffee since we weren't performing until 11pm that night!) at the local cafe, and lo and behold, there was Chris writing out the music he would be teaching everyone at the workshop! Had a bit of a chat, and then got caught in the rain walking back to Bob & Jenny's place, but it didn't matter, the rain was warm and we were very happy and contented, although feeling slightly mouldy!

So at midday Paul and I left Helen and Mannie listening in rapture to Danny Spooner & Sean Roche's presentation on fishing songs, and we headed over to the Yacht Club to catch Chris' workshop. On the way the heavens opened up, and I was running desperately trying to cover my head, thinking how frizzy my hair was going to get! When we arrived I saw the lovely Kate Case, who performed with Daniel Brauchli at Cygnet, and after we had a brief chat I found out they were also performing at the Senior Citizen's Club before us later that night! Chris's workshop was amazing. He had everyone feeling comfortable from the start and taught everyone a tune called King George V, a fiery Scottish strathspey. Brilliant tune! I noticed the two Gypsy Boys had attended, one was playing fiddle and the other the viola. Once again I couldn't go up and say hi, as they were participating in the workshop. Paul and I left shortly after as we wanted to catch the Ethereal concert, which was just beautiful Big hello to Lynne, Mieka & 'Chellen'! For 90 minutes we blissed out to the Celtic harps, flutes, violin, cello & concertina. Ethereal's music is stunning and incredibly relaxing. I left with the determination of buying their CD before I left GeorgeTown

After the concert, I was so dreamy and relaxed I could've easily gone home and had a nap, but there's no rest for the wicked - I found out Paul and Mannie had put the three of us down for a chalkboard gig at the GeorgeTown Heritage Hotel, so off we went! To my delight, we walked in on Mick Flanagan's gig, and he performed his original version of Dicky Goodchild (the one I fell in love with). Mick was kind enough to mention that we had covered his song, 'better than I sing it', which was lovely, but personally, watching him giving the background history of his song and then singing it was priceless to me. Mick is a great man, and his wife Helen is just lovely!

So then it was our turn. It was odd, we had just come from the Ethereal concert, and yet there they were watching us perform. The amount of respect and support musicians have for each other is wonderful. Our gig went for 40 minutes, and as always, the boys and I had a great time!

Afterwards we went to have some dinner, shower, change and get ready for our gig later that evening. We were doing it as a three-piece as Rachi was in Brisbane by that time. Before our gig we chilled out in the green room, Mannie once again feeling very nauseated and in a lot of pain from his shoulder. I was even more furious with him this time around, because we found out that he had been taking six Nurofen at a time to kill the pain!! No wonder he was so sick - he had basically eroded his stomach lining. So Paul and I took drastic action and forbade him to have any more Nurofen. We were both seriously worried about him. Mannie, however, just looked at us pitifully with huge sad eyes and said, 'But I'm in pain!' To which I snapped, 'You touch any more Nurofen and I'll show you effin' pain!!' Then the door to the Green Room opened and the Gypsy Boys promptly walked in with their younger sister, which cheered us all up no end. So we finally managed to introduce ourselves - a huge hello to Sven, Leif & Sigrid Helland! We chatted about all sorts - they are the loveliest group of people. Time flew, and then we were on. As Rachi wasn't there, we organised for Helen to sing some harmonies with us - it was surreal and utterly wonderful having Helen back in the line-up!! Because Mannie was so sick, it was up to Paul and I to chat to the audience. I became more sarcastic than usual, taking the piss out of the boys and sparring insults with Paul. Towards the end of the gig I was telling the audience how I was 'all boy-ed out' at the gig. Mannie, by this stage, was feeling good enough to shoot back at me, 'You don't have the balls for this'. Well I wasn't going to cop that, so I shot him a look and (I swear, I don't know where this came from) promptly announced, 'Yeah, well I have bigger balls than both of you boys combined!' There was a stunned silence and then the entire audience erupted in laughter. Oh Sarah. Typical moment of my mouth working faster than my brain!

The remainder of the gig was brilliant - better than the previous nights! We had an absolute ball, and then headed to the session which was held at the RSL. I found a spot next to acapella singer Kerry Maguire, whose voice I truly love, it's so low! I checked my chair carefully, and spent the remainder of the night playing tunes and singing. Again, Mannie was sitting with Kevin, he did the most brilliant job of backing Kerry when she sang The Irish Rose! And Paul decided to back the Gypsy Boys (sorry guys, I do know your names, but that description fits you perfectly) and Chris Stone when they were playing the wicked strathspey from the workshop that morning - I was so proud of my boys and truly appreciative of the wealth of talent surrounding me. Just before 2am we were kicked out, so once we had packed up and made our way home, I fell into bed at 3am. Not sure how much longer I could keep up the pace of 20 hour days and 4 hours of sleep, but honestly, I didn't really notice it. Until later

I've had to split my blogs into 3 sections, simply because this weekend was so massive and *so much* happened!

Friday 19th January - Day One

Once again the four of us drove up to GeorgeTown lugging a small country worth of instruments, music and snack food. I managed to have a brief snooze along the way while Mannie's iPod blared (or bluurred, in Mannie-speak) from the speakers. Our afternoon tea stop in Ross was beautiful as always, the walk in the woods along the river never fails to relax me. While the boys & Rachi were devouring the vanilla slice and getting it everywhere, I had the most wonderful strudel!

We finally arrived in GeorgeTown, after yours truly nearly got us lost. I am totally right brained on top of being a muso, which means I can't read maps, I have selective hearing, I'm domestically challenged and I'm incapable of mowing the lawn and taking the garbage out. So. Mannie the Wonderful managed to get Paul the Frustrated-With-Sarah's-Crap-Map-Reading-Skills back on the right road to GeorgeTown - go Mannie!

Once we arrived it was hugs all around as we caught up with the wonderful Bob & Jenny Pooley. We cannot thank you both enough for your hospitality and generosity! Then we experienced our name on shirts again, which is always a thrill - again, we promptly bought one each! Huge thanks must go to Peter and Maria who opened their home to us, it was much appreciated. Our first order of business was opening the festival with an acoustic session at the Pier Hotel. It was fantastic - we had everyone singing along and drinking up a storm which is what we always like to see The highlight for me was having Roz from Women In Docs come up and tell me how much she enjoyed our rendition of Galileo by the Indigo Girls - I was so touched, she made my day!

We performed last that night at the Bass & Flinders Maritime museum under the beautiful Norfolk sloop, and I must say, the acts before us were truly incredible. I was blown away by Nick Charles' stunning guitar playing (Paul and Mannie were drooling chronically), his talent is exceptional. Next up were Scottish world music group Eilean Mor, who were equally amazing, particularly as lead singer Ruth Lee Martin sang in Scots Gaelic (it was my turn to drool chronically there). So we were waiting patiently out the back to set up and perform, and then the lovely Graham Johnson introduced us (Cheers Graham, you did a great job!), and off we went. I had a fantastic time, and the concert was extremely well received, which is always a wonderful thing. We also debuted our version of Dicky Goodchild, and I was so nervous because Mick was in the audience! His verdict? A big grin and this: 'It was bollocks, but you sounded good!' Appreciate the constructive criticism, Mick. Mannie, on the other hand, just managed to make it through the gig without passing out from the pain of a torn ligament in his shoulder. How he managed to make it that far into the tour without doing further damage is beyond me. But like all professionals, Mannie triumphed (he had no choice, I was so furious with him for allowing himself to get like that and for not saying anything that if he dared pass out I would've booted his unconscious Irish arse back into the present - always with love in my heart, though!).

After our concert there was a session being held, and I was told in no uncertain terms by Kevin Doyle & Mick Flanagan that I would be attending. How sweet!  So I found a spot next to Mick, went to sit down on the wooden chair and the floor suddenly crashed up and met me. It all happened so fast - one minute I was standing, and the next thing I know I'm looking up from a broken wooden chair at a room full of very concerned people. Rachi was at my side in an instant because I was holding my Lon Dubh blackwood whistle in my hand, and she wanted to make sure it was ok. It was fine, I was more concerned about the pure silk dress I was wearing! Thankfully my dress (and myself!) came through as well So I tested the next seat out and managed to sit sans problems this time


(Us and the Wonderful Kevin Doyle)


The session was the best I have ever attended. Everyone lead and everyone had a turn at singing and playing. To my surprise I managed to keep up the majority of the time! I was surrounded by so many talented people. I was seated comfortably next to my mate Mick, Mannie was next to our new friend Kevin, acapella singer Kerry Maguire was seated to my left next to Paul and Sean Roche wandered around singing the most haunting patriotic version of Danny Boy I've ever heard. Sitting across from me was Chris Stone, the incredible fiddle player from Eilean Mor, and sitting with him were Rachi & two guys who played everything (fiddle, viola, guitar, mandolin, bouzouki & bodhran). They were very good and *very* fast! For some reason we didn't introduce ourselves, but I found we didn't need to as the music did it for us. They were such wild passionate players I christened the two of them the Gypsy Boys. The entire evening was amazing, but at 2am Sunas was a little worn and weary, so we packed up and headed off to bed. I was on such a high I didn't think I'd get any sleep, but my head hit the pillow and I crashed. I went to bed one very happy little Nuala!

Listening to ''Down by the Sally Gardens'' (Live) , by Clannad

So The Tamar Valley Folk Festival.
 
There's just so much to write about this weekend that I'll really just have to condense it down to observations, thoughts and wee vignettes.
 
The first; Stopping at the beautiful village of Ross on the way up for coffee, Eccles cakes and  ...vanilla slice. The Ross bakery has almost become our Central Tasmania office (with Jackman & McRoss being the Hobart department). The vanilla slice alone is worth the trip up, as well as the beautiful houses and bridge.
 
So onto GeorgeTown to catch up with some old friends (POOOOOLEY!) and find our name on another festival T-shirt (it's a nice thing we could easily get used to)
 
Our first gig was the festival opener; a session in the Pier pub overlooking the Tamar River. We weren't sure how many people would show, as it was raining (and we decided to sit and play outside on the covered verandah), but within moments of firing up our first tune, folks seemed to appear from nowhere. It was a great hour or so, followed on by a nice wee session.

 
(The Discerning Audience at The Pier Session)

That  night, we played in the Bass & Flinders Maritime museum, which has to rank as one of the most interesting places we've ever played. The stage was right under the bow of a ship, The Norfolk, and the acoustics and gig were just smashing. After the gig was another session that went on into the early hours and had a few bloggable moments, but I'll let Sarah talk about that.

 
(The fabulous Ethereal playing under the Norfolk)

Just a quick thanks here to Pete and Maria for opening their house to us.
 
As with the Cygnet festival, I can't possibly list all the people we admired/jammed/swapped tunes/shared Guinness with, but a quick mention has to go to the unbelievable energy of Bob and Jenny Pooley, Mick, Kev, the Ethereal Ladies (playing under the boat in the photo above), Eilean Mor and the wild Gypsy Hellands. And of course everyone who had a kind word or comment to share.
 
Great tunes and times. Hope to catch up with you all again soon.


Listening to ''Hell Hound On My Trail'', by Eric Clapton

On Wednesday night we went and had dinner with Brian Owens. What a wonderful evening! Brian cooked a beautiful roast dinner, and we lost track of the hours swapping stories and tall tales. Brian has also written an incredible suite on the story of Finn McCool. He was kind enough to play a few pieces, and afterwards I was amazed that the man had enough oxygen to speak letalone play!! So cheers Brian for a brilliant evening, we had a great time and I look forward to catching up with you when we come home.

Yesterday morning I woke again at 6am, and decided to take Jem (my beautiful blackwood flute) to the meadows and practice the Air I have been noodling around with. It was wonderful just sitting in the cool and using hot breath to make music, very intimate and pleasant, although I was afraid to play for fear of disturbing the silence. Mannie woke soon after and we went for a walk up Helen's road in the cool, just the two of us for about an hour. It was lovely! After we came back Mannie and I brought our instruments up to the meadow and we started jamming, playing Lunasa's beautiful tune Scully Casey's from the Merry Sisters of Fate album, and one of my favourite pieces to play. Mannie will jam to anything - from Lunasa to Led Zepplin (has anyone heard him play Whole Lotta Love?), it's brilliant. Then Paul woke up, heard us playing, and brought his guitar to the table. We rehearsed Dicky Goodchild, which is Mick Flanagan's song that we're going to unveil at GeorgeTown, and decided that coffee sounded pretty damn good for hardworking musos Found out that Helen was woken (or 'serenaded awake' as she so brilliantly put it) by the three of us practising Dicky Goodchild, and it rolled around in her head all day

Last night we did a small spot at the Lark Brewery again, and were privy to some eclectic chalkboard acts afterwards, one of whom were the To'rags (Lindsay, Mick & Tom) who did a great set! Then it was off to Mures for yummy fish and chips, with Rachel feeding the seagulls chips and Mannie threatening to kick her arse then changing his mind, hoping the seagulls either choked on a hot chip or died from cholesterol. I have to admit, I've never considered a seagull 'beautiful', but Rachi was adamant that they are, and that they all have personalities, names, addresses and Medicare cards. Ok then!

Today we're all a fraction seedy (too much pepperberry vodka methinks), but very excited as we're headed up to GeorgeTown today! We have a three hour drive ahead of us, bring on the naps!!

("First she says left, then right, then straight on...ARRGGHH!!)

Listening to Pastin Fionn by Lunasa

So. We're back from the perils of Pandora's Esky up at the shack.

Huge thanks to Roxanne and Peter for allowing us to stay there! We all had a fabulous time and managed to relax, write songs and even fit in a ghost tour at Port Arthur. Mannie and I certainly had an experience! On our last day at the shack, we went to the beach. Myself and the Sunas boys rolled our jeans up and went walking in the surf - it was the only beach I'd ever seen with hills in the background! Mannie & Paul were delighted to find oysters and mussels in the rocks, and kept up a steady 'Me, meat hunter!' monologue, when in actuality Mannie was the hunter & Paul was the gatherer


(Hunting for fresh oysters)


So we'd cleaned up and were heading to the shack to drop the food off when I had an altercation with a bug. Let me explain: I *hate* bugs! Especially spiders and things that fly and sting. I know how Mannie felt now! God, I just got chased out of the living room because there was a flying bug thing which was attracted to the light! So I'm guessing dear reader, that you've gathered I really hate all bugs

Anyway, Mannie, Paul, Rachi, Mark & myself were crammed into Helen's truck, and I had just rolled my jeans down to dry. But there was a tickling feeling on my left knee. I thought perhaps it was an ant and shook my jeans, but saw nothing. Ten minutes later my knee still felt ticklish, so I rolled my jeans up, but still saw nothing. 30 seconds later, a huge (and very irate) black and yellow wasp decided to make its presence known to me. Being the calm, rational person I am, I screamed my head off which caused Paul to nearly run off the road. Rach was sitting next to me and after seeing our unwelcome in-flight guest immediately took up the hysterical refrain. Throughout the chaos of myself & Rachi screaming, and Mannie & Paul yelling at us to shut the hell up, I had the thought that I had to open my window to try and persuade the wasp that he'd be much happier (and less deaf) outside. But no, this wasp was canny. I think he'd been trained in combat for this experience, because he flew onto the window handle thus preventing his escape! At this point I lost all coherant thought and simply screamed to get the bloody wasp away from me (it might have been a fraction more colourful, actually), when Mark the Brave leaned over Rach and I and opened my door. I hadn't thought of that one

Mark saved the day and my sanity, and Rach & I are eternally thankful to him. He was very nice about it, but I did hear him mutter this under his breath: 'Bloody drama queen singers!' I hope a wasp stings you on your arse!


Listening to ''Paul Ha'penny/The Garden Of Butterflies/The Broken Pledge/The Mother And Child Reel/Toss The Feathers'', by Martin Hayes & Dennis Cahill

I have to add my version of this story here, because it made me laugh so hard I thought I was going to lose my breakfast.


(Sunset at the Shack)

After we had arrived at the shack, Paul kept mentioning the esky up in the scrub far away from the house. I took one look at it and knew it was there for a reason and had no desire to go and look. But Paul just couldn't help himself, and after badgering Mannie and Mark for half an hour, the curiosity got the better of all of them, and they all decided to go up and stare down the esky.

So picture this like a movie, dear reader/groupie/minion/stalker:

Mannie is being his bravest, brandishing a huge lead pipe and going 'Rawwwwwrrrr!!'

Mark is equally as brave with the Sombrero de Bravure.

Paul has just moisturised and is now able to go forth confidently.

The three brave boys head straight for the esky being very manly and loud (repeat the Rawwwwrrrr man cries). They approach the defenceless esky and stop and stare at it, and I could just see them thinking, 'maybe we should leave it alone'

But do they? No

Mark takes charge and kicks the lid off the esky. What follows is something that made me laugh so hard I was crying.

The three brave big strong men take one look at what's inside that dreaded esky, and then turn around and run screaming down the hill dry retching in horror. Thank God Mark has the sense to put the lid back on. The smell follows them and Rachi and I copped a noxious whiff which nearly turned my stomach, and I was at least 50 metres away!!

They come back down looking very sheepish and look to me for some sympathy.

They don't get it - I'm laughing too hard!!

So, back to the Lark tonight (Thursday 19) for a wee little set before the main open mic session.

Many many thanks to the endlessly patient Jen of Loudmusic, who provided the gear and put up with our chaos. It was lovely to play a kind of mini encore at the place that has become just about our favourite place to gig in Australia. Cheers again to Bill Lark (if it's any consolation Bill, I think we spent our gig fee on Whiskey and T-shirts!)

Then it was off to Mures for the now traditional Súnas-at-the-Lark fish supper and the newly established artform of Seagull Whispering.

Back to the distillery for yet more whiskey, great, great coffee and a wonderful open mic show of acts, including some friends we'd made down in Cygnet. A big hello to Mick, Lindsey and Tom from the To'rags, who did a great wee set.

And of coursed Hannah the Duty Manager. Without whom etc...


Listening to ''Meyju'', by Alio Die

This is a dread tale.

A tale of terror, sorrow, stench, mysterious objects abandoned in far-off meadows...

You'd all be familiar with the myth of Pandora's Box, the small container that held all the evil in the world until Pandora, out of curiosity, opened it.

This is the story of... Pandora's Esky.

We arrived at the Beach Shack down on the Tasman Penisula, which is an amazing construction of shed, caravan, house, boat and quite possibly spaceship, right up on the forested dunes back from a silver crescent of beach. The only way to get there is via a steep 4wd track that sets the bits a-bouncing, and the view from the verandah is utterly stunning, sweeping down over the azure of Frederick Henry Bay, Slopen Island, right across the the mist covered outline of Mt Wellington.
(The best early morning coffee spot in the world)


But back to the peril.

I was the first to notice it, so perhaps it was fate. A lone, lime-green Esky, sitting up on the hill about 100 metres away from anything else. Straight away, I was curious. Why was it there? Had it just been forgotten in some hurried rush to escape an inexplicable terror? Maybe it was dumped from a plane.

We settled in, but somehow, it seemed to call to me. Nothing like the regular voices in my head, but rather, I'd just find my eyes drawn back to it as we drank cider on the verandah. Then I noticed:


(Terrible, TERRIBLE peril...)


The ferns around it were dead.

"Go and open that Esky, Mannie," I asked.
"Feck orrf"
"Sarah..? Anyone...?"

After a few more ciders, the others seemed equally interested (well, us MEN anyway).

But we weren't going to head up there defenceless. Mannie grabbed a huge lead pipe, I had my Inherent Ninja Skills and Mark had his Sombrero.

As we neared it, we noticed several things. The ferns around it were indeed dead, the sand darker, scorched maybe. The sun had retreated behind the clouds and there was a faint whiff of something bad. But that may have just been Mannie's arse.

We crouched and conferred, planning a suitable mannish assault: Charge in and kick off the lid, then pummel whatever was inside.

Well, that was the plan.

We did actually get the lid off, and for a moment, the birds hushed. The sky darkened. Thunder rippled out over Slope Island. A peregrine falcon that was wheeling in the blue above suddenly screeched like fingers down a blackboard.

There was a momentary glimpse of something brown, soupy, viscous, with pink, fleshy floating...gibs...

Then the smell hit us.

We've been driving around Tasmania for a while now, and we've seen our fair share of dead bloated wombats, huge possums with shredded innards spread on the road like party streamers...ponging. Minging. Stinky dead things.

This left them for dead. Literally.

We reeled away, eyes streaming. This THING leapt screaming from the green Esky and landed on our backs. My Inherent Ninja Skills were rendered powerless in a moment. Mannie and I pulled our T-shirts up over our noses like bandits, and for one terrible moment I was dry-retching and had a vision of actually spewing inside my T-shirt, and seeing it inflate like a sticky balloon. We were thrown backwards, running in slow motion while the THING followed us. It was only Mark's sharp thinking (his sombrero may have rendered him immune. We're conducting experiments) that saved us all, as he tossed the lid back on in a dramatic recreation of the end of Raiders of the Lost Ark.

The screaming stopped suddenly, the sky lightened, the falcon emerged.

And we swore never to go near the Esky again.

So it's up there still, dear reader, watching, waiting...fermenting...

Poor Mannie. He's really copped it on this tour. Right from the word go everyone has taken the piss out of his wonderful Belfast accent (which I love - when you see him ask him to recite 'how now brown cow', it's fantastic, it comes out sounding like haoi naoi braoin caoi), how he mixes his words up or just plain had a laugh at his expense.

Right now Mannie is ready to deck myself, Helen & Paul

It all started when we first arrived in Tassie. We went to the Salmon Ponds and had lovely sweet & savoury crepes for lunch. During this time a brave, stupid and very tiny ant decided Mannie's bald head looked rather tasty and did a kamikaze solo bomb dive. Well. It only bit him for heaven's sake! There was a tiny red mark, but the way Mannie was acting you'd think the ant grabbed Mannie, wrestled him to the ground and repeatedly king hit him. That ant showed Mannie who was the Bish, and Mannie went crying to me, at which point I was laughing hysterically so he ran off to sulk - go ant!

Then Paul decided on the morning we were going to Cygnet that Mannie needed to be woken using an old bugle he found at Helen's place. Picture a very happy, hairy, warm mandolin player snoozing peacefully in Helen's living room. Then picture a bastard guitarist laughing so hard he can barely lift the bloody bugle letalone play it. Paul managed to calm himself down enough to take a deep breath and attempt to play Mannie awake. Well. The second he started to play two things happened: The only noise made was a weird pfffft sound as a great spray of dust shot out of the end of the bugle, and Mannie sat bolt upright immediately and grabbed his shoes as if he was going to run away at any moment. Yet another classic Mannie moment, and of course one where we fell apart laughing with glee - go Paul!

The next moment involved an entire audience at the Bush Inn. We were singing a wonderful Dougie MacLean song called Feel So Near, and this song calls on the audience to join in. The chorus goes like this:

I feel so near to the howling of the wind
I feel so near to the crashing of the waves
I feel so near to the flowers in the fields
I feel so near

In Mannie Speak it sounds like this:

I feel so near to the houuuling of the wind
I feel so near to the crashin' of the weaves
I feel so near to the flours in the fields
I feel so near


("I luvsh schider...")

The audience loves it when we take the mickey out of Mannie's accent, and this one was no different apart from yours truly going one step further and encouraging everyone to join in singing in their best Belfast accent! So it wasn't just us this time, it was an entire pub - well done everyone!

Yesterday in New Norfolk, it was damn hot. Before we left for Hobart Rachi and I grabbed our jackets because hey - we feel the cold in any weather, and Hobart is right on the water, so the breeze freezes your bones. But Mannie felt that he was The Man and could be tough in any weather. Nonetheless, after seeing Paul with his jumper, Mannie turned to Helen and asked if it will stay hot like this into the evening? Helen's answer? Yes Mannie, of course it will, it'll be stifling, and if you wear anything warmer you'll die of dehydration (note - answer may have been dramatised in keeping with the events in this blog). Well of course we hit Hobart and Mannie was complaining like the big sheila that he is that his feet were cold, he should never have listened to Helen: "Puur me, I'm cooooold...ooh, do I smell chicken?" Meanwhile the rest of us were safely snuggled and warm in our jackets. After we got home Mannie made a list of rules:

1. Never listen to Helen
2. Never listen to Helen
3. Never listen to Helen
4. Never listen to Helen
5. Never listen to Helen
6. Underpants are compulsory
7. No farting in the kitchen . . .


Etc etc - go Helen!

(It sure gets lonely up in dem dar hills..."

There are certain milestones that mean a lot.

First rehearsal, first paid gig, hearing yourself on the radio, first tour...

At the Cygnet Folk Festival we had our first 'Name on a T-shirt!' And I'm not talking about T-shirts we're produced ourselves. That doesn't count. These were proper festival shirts. Of course we all bought one!

The festival was great. A fantastic mix of music with truly receptive people. Our show was on late in the evening, which gave us plenty of time to catch other acts and wander around. It's a lovely little village, nested away in the lush Huon valley to the south of Hobart. The venues are dotted along the main street, and range from the RSL club, to the pubs, to the town hall. It's a really nice place just to wander around. We caught the brilliant Daniel Brauchli, Monique Brumby, The Black Nonnas (staring one of our all-time favourites, Kavisha Mazella) and Danny Spooner

The gig was a corker -it never ceased to amaze me when people join in singing.

Anyway, I'm going to stop here as we're off down to the Tasman Peninsula to a friend's beach shack for a little R&R.

P.

What can I say but wow!!

We all awoke groggily from the Lark gig (except me, I had the worst night's sleep of my life. My night consisted of a little girl singing to me that everything would be ok, and she was most definitely not ok. It took me a long time to calm down because I couldn't help her. I was a mess when I eventually surfaced, but am fine now, and the little girl has left me alone since).

I cheered up later though when Paul woke Mannie up with the bugle! The rest of the morning went off with only a slight hitch as we were driving down the road from Helen's to Cygnet - I realised that I was so busy worrying about everyone else's instruments and gear that I totally forgot my flutes!

So. Five minutes later we were back on the road, Helen's hysterical laughter ringing in my sheepish ears as she watched me leap from the truck, bolt inside and bolt back out clutching my flutes in less than 30 seconds! The drive to the Huon Valley is breathtaking. Rolling green hills that stretch on for miles, colour & wildlife everywhere and kooky little farmhouses.

Our first order of business when we arrived at Cygnet was taking in the sights! It was incredible. We all had a bit of a thrill when Rachi was recognised in the street - it was like that the entire day - we were recognised at 'that great Celtic band'. What a wonderful moment! We caught blues guitarist Daniel Brauchli's set which was amazing. He called the lovely Kate Case up to sing with him, and their harmonies were beautiful. After Daniel & Kate Monique Brumby came on - she is such a powerhouse performer who absolutely loves what she does and is fiercely proud of her Tasmanian heritage. I felt truly blessed to be performing at the same festival as these people, and we hadn't even performed yet!

Our set was at 11pm that night in the RSL. There were first class acts before us, we were the last of the concert. I was so happy to see Dancers Delight and the To'rags perform their wonderful tunes and songs. Celtic music music is so diverse, and there were so many people supporting this concert, it was brilliant! Normally I don't get nervous at all on stage, but as we were sound checking it occurred to me that there were many musicians in the audience who would be scrutinising our performance, and I must admit, I had a mini panic attack before we started! Our set went off and of course we took the piss out of Mannie again (who ironically has decided that his mission on this tour is to razz Paul about moisturising), and we were asked to do an encore Special thanks to Dot who emceed the concert all night and who has come to see us from our first tour back in January 2006. Huge thanks must definitely go to Hannah & Moira from Daideo & the Blue Mosquitos who came along to support us - these girls asked if they could cover my tune NightFaeries, and I was so touched! Keep up the music girls

We had to drive back to New Norfolk last night as we have a gig at the beautiful Bush Inn this afternoon. I am exhausted as we got home at 3am, but right now I'm going to reflect on our day yesterday while nursing a very large strong coffee.

Speaking of which, something that amuses me no end is Helen's beautiful dog Sam, who goes completely nuts when the coffee grinder goes on. He'll bark and prance around like he's got an itch in an inconvenient place. Sammy also barks at the vacuum cleaner and Mark's chainsaw - basically anything electrical that makes noise!! I love Sammy-Sam, he is a champion and the best white dog in the whole wide world

It's 3am on Saturday morning. Tonight we gigged at the Lark Brewery, which is my absolute favourite place to play at. Not only does it distil its own whiskey, you also will not find more friendly bar staff. Cheers to Hannah and Jen, the best bar staff in the world - see you on Thursday! Another highlight of the evening was meeting Bill Lark (the owner) who is just lovely. Huge thanks for the honey rum, Bill, you're a champion!

Huge thanks must also go to Dave, Judy, Martin & Narelle who holiday-ed down here especially to see us on tour. Your support is much appreciated, and it was wonderful playing to familiar faces!


(From Left, Widdershins (that's anticlockwise for you non-traditionalists!) Dave (Paul's stand-in 'stunt' bodhran player), Sarah, Brian the Flute, Rabbit (looking hourly bored and wanting to go on to the Chew 'n Spew for dim sims), Rachel, Mark and Mannie)

We knew the gig would be great when the audience clapped our sound checking, and our set hadn't even started! The Lark is a brilliant venue for live music. We all met the lovely Brian Owens who was very helpful in remembering tune names when we'd forgotten. Lark gigs are always wonderful and massive, and we were exhausted afterwards, but sat around and played a session with Brian for a few hours. Special mention goes to Dave the Virgin Bodhran Player who played his first session on Paul's lovely Davy Stuart bodhran. For someone who's relatively new to this instrument, you kept time incredibly well! Brian just blew us all away with his beautiful playing, and I can't wait to learn more from him. The session was fantastic, and Brian was quite ready to play all night! However, it had been a long day, and a huge night, and I hit the wall around 2:30am. Brian had such a good time he invited us all to dinner on Wednesday. Mannie's excited because Brian mentioned roast chicken. Roll on Wednesday!

So now it's 3:30am, and I'm ready to go to bed. Tomorrow we journey south to the Cygnet Folk Festival, which I'm sure will be an adventure in itself! Until next blog . . .

I'm currently sitting on Helen's verandah overlooking one of her many gardens, but this garden in particular also has a stunning willow tree. It's my favourite place to be alone at Stanton.

Two days have already passed so quickly. We flew in Wednesday, and I thought I would arrive and head straight to bed (a la Rachi), but instead we set up camp and proceeded to drink the afternoon away. As you do! For those who know me know that I'm what's termed a 'Cadbury' drinker - a glass and a half and I'm completely gone. Pathetic, isn't it. I won't go into too much detail on what happened, but 3 ciders later I was one very happy (and apparently extremely entertaining) Sairey. Being pissed and exhausted certainly has its advantages. There seem to be periods of sobriety and alertness. I had one such moment shortly before midnight when I was planning to navigate Helen's stairs and head up to bed, but I saw her piano, tottered over, gathered my balance and started to play. 20 minutes later I had a fully fledged song complete with lyrics and melody. It was a lovely moment, actually. Musicians are mad, what can I say?

I woke up yesterday morning (Thursday 11th) with no trace of a hangover, and yes, I woke up in the AM side of the day - 8:30am to be exact - go me! Everyone was extremely on edge when they saw me up at that hour, normally my motto is 'I don't get up until the crack of noon', and Paul will tell you - I 'aint a morning gal, baby! I must have unofficially handed it to Rachi - she slept the previous afternoon away, got up, had dinner, went back to bed and slept until midday, go girl! The boys (Mannie, Rabbit & Paul) went into Hobart to pick up our gear while myself & Rachi rehearsed tunes and song lyrics.

I received a message from Paul informing me that the boys had gone to the salivatingly divine Jackson & McRoss bakery for buns. Not happy Jan, they could've waited for us! (evidence of the trickery below. Beef and Guinness pie I believe)


(Got Pie. Am Happy.)

Last night we gigged at the Republic Bar in Hobart. What a fantastic venue! Huge thanks to Tony and his brilliant staff for the great meals and accommodating us. The gig went off. We just love it when people dance to our tunes, so to Ben and his reggae/hip-hop crew, thanks for dancing, it was great. One day I'll get up and dance with everyone just to see what's like! We didn't get home until 2am, and I was so 'knockered' (to quote the illustrious Mannoire), I only had enough energy to take my make-up off and fall into bed. Btw, Helen's beds are *wonderful*! I slept like the dead and didn't wake until 11:30 this morning.

(2am at the Chew 'n Spew)
Not quite the crack of noon, but not a bad attempt, either I love this band!

The ghost left me alone last night.

I woke at 6am with my face being seared by the sun. This is one of those places where the need to get outside in the early morning far overrides the urge to just lie in bed. Well, for some of us anyway

So I'm up in the meadow behind Stanton, sitting on an old wooden bench under the shade of a stately old row of hawthorn trees that avenue a path that goes nowhere. I'm on the side of a small valley, only a hundred or so yards across, looking out over an orchard of cherries and apples that are divided by a row of magnificent macrocarpas that amble along a long-dry creek. These trees are just beautiful, to my English eye they look like wild cedars, and they're alive with the barks of black cockatoos and crows carrying on yesterday's arguments. English blackbirds (introduced, I imagine, like the chattering sparrows) are scudding through the bushes, defending territories with their typical clannish zeal. Their alarm calls remind me of Kent more than anything. I have a view off to my right of the Derwent Valley, while the wooded hills around New Norfolk are lazing to my left. It's about 16°. Fingers of cloud are trying to brush away the still-visible moon, and despite the coolness of the air and the breeze, the sun is fierce.

Everyone else is still in bed, so for a short time I have this all to myself.

It's funny, but I don't think I've ever been so homesick, and yet I've hardly ever felt so at home.

Listening to ''By the Dawn's Early Light'', by Harold Budd

It's just gone 2:30am and I'm lying in bed in the Green Room in Stanton, listening to the frogs and crickets while I type this. They're different to the night sounds of Queensland. The frogs kind of sound like there's a giant Geiger counter going off out in the meadow. Yep, I should probably be sleeping, but my Head Monkeys are still fired up from our first gig at the Republic Hotel in North Hobart. Now this place is something of a legendary venue in this city, and is exactly the kind of thing that Brisbane sorely lacks. An unpretentious pub that has genuine live music on every night of the week, ranging from local talent to international touring acts. And us.

(Mannie and his Brudda from a different Mudda)

The night started brilliantly, we caught up with our mate Mick Flanagan for supper, swapped a few tall tales before he bid us farewell to continue on down to Cygnet, where we'll be in a couple of days. The first set went well, and it wasn't long before people were dancing to the tunes and laughing at Mannie taking the piss out of me. Despite some gremlins with the sound (and it never ceases to amaze me how fickle music gear can be), and our 'jet-lag' we thoroughly enjoyed ourselves. Photos coming soon!

Well, my fingertips are still on fire from the playing, the sight of the lemon moon over the Derwent river as we drove home is still phosphored onto my retinas, and the Head Monkeys have settled down in their tree swings.

Guess it's time to sleep. Hopefully the ghost will leave me alone tonight...

Listening to: frogs, crickets, possums, bandicoots and the occasional sheep.

Well, we managed to make it onto the plane! The adrenaline has worn off since checking in, and now I'm just plain exhausted. Can't wait to get to Helen's and chill out in the meadow with my iPod!

Right now I'm sitting between my boys on our way to Hobart. Mannie has tuned out listening to his iPod with his face pressed against the window seat glass salivating over the stunning view. There's no point in even trying to talk to him, I'll just get the famous glassy stare Paul has commandeered my iPod to crash out for a bit while I'm blogging on his Mac - it's a fairly incestuous kind of band, huh!

The purpose of this trip for me is firstly to play great music with some of my favourite people in the world. Secondly, I want to write good music and learn from the proper people who can teach me everything. Speaking of which, I had a divine intervention moment last Thursday. I'm always keen to improve myself as a muso, and so I Googled flute lesson + pdf, as Paul was telling Mannie that these things can be invaluable on the net. Instead I found an online flute lesson by a man called Brian the Flute. Cool name!! Things became more interesting for me when I found out that Brian had moved from England to Tasmania. Divine intervention!! So in my usual way I tracked him down, although Paul and Helen would say it was more like hunting, for want of a better word

To cut a long story short (and one day and literally mountains of phone calls later), I finally succeeded in having a chat with Brian, and it turns out that we'd met during the last tour, although briefly. I asked Brian if he would be kind enough to give me some lessons to improve my playing, and we went from there. 45 minutes later (and even the prospect of an enormous mobile bill wasn't enough to wipe the delighted smile from my face), I have found another kindred spirit. It's funny how you connect with some people and others pass by the wayside (must be a muso thing, it's universal). I can't wait to meet Brian properly and learn more about improving my playing. To me, this is the best part about being a musician. No matter where you go, there's always someone who will share your love of music, and will challenge you to better yourself. This is priceless, as far as I'm concerned. I'll blog more when I've had the chance to catch up with Brian and Mick.

Oh dear, time to go, Mannie has started to purr

Listening to: The Beautiful Music of the Endlessly Recycled Airplane Fart