I’VE got a secret that’s not going to go down well with my family.
While I’ve been brought up in a strong Irish background, and very proud to have been I might add, there’s one aspect that I just can’t grasp.
Irish folk music. It’s led to a few embarrassing moments at the end of a night in a bar when there’s a sing song.
You know the sort, everyone is expected to stop their conversations and give deference to someone in a flat cap in the corner, who might just have some of his own teeth, as he yodels out some sort of noise that probably has the dogs out on the street howling, while trying not to spill his 14th pint of porter.
You daren’t mention that you aren’t part of their company and you were actually in the middle of a private conversation.
Oh no, everyone has to down tools or else face a crowd of people shushing you into obedience.
If that wasn’t bad enough, other people are impressed by this appalling racket and decide to offer some of their own unique vocal stylings.
But that’s nothing, the fear really kicks in when you realise that you’ll be expected to offer a ditty of your own.
Now I can barely remember my own phone number, never mind lyrics to songs that I deplore.
I could offer up a football chant or two but I don’t really think that would go down too well.
Instead it’s much better to belt out a line or two of a song and hope that someone joins in.
If I really wanted to sing in a corner of a pub I would join a band. But I am under no illusions as to my lack of singing ability.
On the odd occasion that I do break into song, predominantly in the shower, it’s because I know there is nobody about.
Sometimes when I go out, it’s because I want to catch up with friends and have a chat with them.
I don’t begrudge other people wanting to sing, but I just don’t see why they can’t respect other people’s right to spend a hard-earned night out the way they want to either.