I should have been suspicious that there were so many tickets on the go. Local outreach, the organisers called it; filling the place, I called it. ‘Midsummer Mindfullness and Free Spirits – A Festival of Wellness’ was in Kilsudgeon over the weekend. No more summer show, no more Dinny Sheehan and his beauty pageant, affectionately known as Miss Road Frontage. Kilsudgeon is gone all swanky now.

William DeCourcey is after opening up Kilsudgeon Demesne. He got a wedge of money off the tourism crowd. They found out that there was a load of countryside that wasn’t covered by Ireland’s Ancient East and is too far away from the Wild Atlantic Way, so they’re after making up a thing called Ireland’s Historic Middle. They’re hoping the Kilsudgeon will be a “lynchpin, a growth hub and a key driver for success”, according to the leaflet we got through the door.

They were expecting 5,000 down from Dublin but I think tickets must have been slow selling because the next thing there were free tickets everywhere around the town. They even had a few after mass so myself and Denis decided to wander down to support it, the craturs.

Ah ’twas miserable up there. It rained for the whole of the Sunday. They were like some sort of rebel camp above in the field. Babies and everything. I didn’t know any of the bands. The headliners were some Danish outfit called Sellotape Dispenser and that was a good name because we didn’t bother looking for the start of it. It was an eye-opener for Denis. It was all of this hippy stuff.

“Where would I get a burger?” he says to one lad who was hula-hooping. And he nearly hit Denis with the end of his hair. Dreadlocks they were, and he looking like he’d be from around here.

“No meat here,” says the lad with the hair. “Midsummer Mindfulness is 100% ethical, dude.”

I don’t know if Denis was ever called “dude” in his life. Even when we were on holidays in America, no one dared. Denis’d be the most un-dude type of fella you could meet. I think he got a kick out of it.

“You should try a kale smoothie; cleanse you, bro.”

“Kale! Shur we used to give that to cattle. What’ll they be eating next? Molasses?” says Denis.

“Molasses is further up in the Naturally Sweet section.”

“Thanks bro,” says Denis. “I’ll go get a silage shake so”

Bro! He’s very adaptable is my Denis. And he not speaking to his own brother.

Venting in a tent

It started to rain again – heavy this time – so we ended up in one of those discussion tents. It was a qware sight. The tent was full. Half with Kilsudgeon locals and half with the alternative crowd. Such a talk. I looked it up after and the discussion was about ‘The Mind of the Creative’. Four young ones talking about their jobs. Although I couldn’t figure out what it is they did. Some sort of Facebook thing, I suppose.

They looked a bit surprised to see us there. I don’t think they’d bargained for it. Every so often one of them would say something like: “And for me, discovering the power of the tantric and all of my chakras helped me unblock some of the negative feelings that had been inhibiting me during my early vlogs.”

And she’d look around to see how this was going down with the locals.

I don’t think Kilsudgeon knew it’d be learning about the power of the tantric but shur we had no choice with the rain. I suppose that’d be kinda Buddhist alright.

I looked over and Fonsy Dolan was there winking at me. Fonsy with the trousers held up with a bit of tow-rope hearing about early vlogs. Although Fonsy would be alternative enough in his own way after he told the seargant he needed the bit of hows-yer-father fags for his angina.

“Where’ll we go next, Dudette?” says Denis after the shower cleared.

“Home,” says I. “You’ve been here long enough. I’d be afraid you’d find yourself.”

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