The Difference Between a Jig and a Reel**

Dinner last week was the only one our core team had to provide this summer. Originally the date had been spoken for by a church group in town. Then they realized they'd committed to something else that evening. (These folks are good evidence for the 80/20 rule - 80% of the work is done by 20% of the people.) So we told them not to sweat it and took the Dinner back.

We had a barbeque. Pre-cooked burgers, a wonky grill, salads and the best desserts.

There were a few guests visiting. A couple from Australia, staying with B. and her family. I never got around to introducing myself, so I didn't catch their names. But they threw themselves into the fray and seemed to have a good time. So far our little meatloaf heaven has been graced by folks from Australia, New Zealand, Ireland, Switzerland, and Holland.

We also had a couple of musicians drop in. One is a skilled fiddler and the other a warm and wonderful guitarist. They both specialize in folk music of one kind and another, and we had fiddle tunes with our burgers, and a music circle for dessert. Fiddle, guitar, mandolin, uke, uke, drum and several singers. Including our jetlagged visitors. We sang and played a song or two and then SW arrived, guitar in hand, so we played for a while so he could have something to eat and catch up.

Highly recommended as a way to spend an evening.

CL was a bit upset because right before Dinner there had been a car crash in the parking lot. One of the girls she's been adopted by ran into a pizza delivery car and smashed the guy's window. And then she took off. Problem.

H. told us the whole story, from the perspective of someone on a bike who was in the way and narrowly got out of it. It's wonderful what a good dramatist can get out of a fender bender in a parking lot.

The room was kind of dark. We've lost some lightbulbs and it takes a long time for them to be replaced. So it gradually gets darker and darker and darker until one week someone gets a ladder and takes a couple of bulbs from the other end of the room and pops them in where they're needed and we spend a week commenting on how bright it suddenly is.

The numbers were strong again at Dinner, even though several people have moved out. Which is related to the most recent rumour going around. Someone told me that they'd been told by the manager that he'd been told by the owners to not refill the rooms as they empty. Because they want the place empty by November so they can - you guessed it - shut it down. The plan being to not have to pay for another winter of heating.

This rumour has some plausibility at the moment. None of the empty rooms has been refilled. Might just be co-incidence, might be a seasonal blip. We'll see.

When SW had finished eating and got out his guitar, he sat back down in his seat, a row of tables away from the rest of the circle. He stayed there, smiling his quiet smile, and played along with us as we sang, S. calling out songs and keys and chords over his shoulder so SW would know where we were heading.

The audience was small, 3 or 4 Motelians who stuck around to hear, and the spirit was large and noisy. Lots of laughing, lots of mistakes, a few solos.

Eventually we ran out of songs and it was time to go home. I zipped my uke into its case and turned around in time to see the fiddler hand his instrument to SW.

We all stood and listened while this quiet man in his pageboy wig and denim skirt sat at his table and played Danny Boy. As he ended, he got lots of clapping and woots and well dones.

And that's as it should be. The quietest soul in the room got the noisiest applause.

r


** One is in 4/4. The other is in 6/8. Or the other way around. I think.

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