Celtic Connections 2011: Day 5 (17/1/11)

That's enough fucking tunes... Who's for a song?

It's not intimidating for the audience. But sitting at the end of the table in the late night session Ronald and I feel rather like two lonely Gladiators. The chairs are neatly arranged in a saltire/colosseum. Musicians and the centre and everyone else looking in. We're really hoping someone fed the lions dodgy meat and that the Christians have been at the communion wine.

You never can tell with an organised session who's going to turn up. You can book a few folk but no matter what you do a session at a festival is like an electromagnet for mentals. We are incredibly lucky tonight. Not one. Not a single one. Last year we had some guy dressed as a WWII soldier howling along to his staggeringly bad guitar playing; a woman who re-enacted Tam o Shanter through the medium of drunken dance and shouting and the usual collection of percussion belters with the timing of Private Jones. Just because one owns an instrument doesn't mean one has to play it loudly along with other people. There's a video that I'll post that describes this so elegantly that I'll stop ranting and try and find it to post here.



It's that time of year again. It wasn't until Christmas Eve this year that I remembered I hadn't done my tax return. Luckily, or unluckily, I forgot about it so it didn't ruin the festive period. It came back and it struck down upon me with great vengeance and furious anger. Surely by now someone at Centre One in East Kilbride has noticed that most folk musicians earn bugger all... Out with the usual futile excuses:

1) Does it make any difference at all us paying taxes?
2) In Ireland musicians and artists don't have to pay taxes etc.
3) Most of the teaching we do is government funded so cut out the middle man.
4) Feel free to add more in the comments section...

I don't actually mind paying the tax I'm just looking for any excuse to not have to do all the boring paperwork. (Hence these overlong blog posts)

Every year it's the same. Instead of just doing it trying to find some reason not to do it. The flat will be spotless before the end of January. I will have shampooed and individually combed each fibre of the living room carpet. Anything to avoid sifting through the mountain of receipts and the desperate search for P60s and all the associated shite that I've put 'somewhere safe' to make doing my tax return easier. What would make it easier would be to get a proper job or somehow employ a full time bookkeeper who was happy to work for free. Not going to happen though.

Right: My tax return. Left: A man who actually believes in Sci Fi.

SIGHT OF THE DAY:
Didn't see this but I overheard two teenage boys bragging about the amount of times they'd shat in Whitehill Swimming Pool. That explains the 50/50 water to chlorine mix they use.

DAYS OFF THE FAGS: 11
DAYS OFF THE DRINK: I give up giving up...