Michael Harding: Fiddles fall silent when someone you love comes to the end of the road - The Irish Times

My tin whistle sits in a drawer and if ever I play a few tunes, I’m riddled with guilt because my playing is so poor and I’m haunted by tunes I never bothered to learn

I have a friend who grows vegetables. So when the good weather arrived I phoned him thinking hed be out in the field, stooped over his onions and courgettes. And as I know nothing about vegetables I … [+4131 chars]

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