'Different mix of visitors this time'
By fleadh roving reporter, Ciara O'Hara
The fleadh crowd was certainly larger this year and while there were swarms of people attending in 2022, there seemed to be a different mix of visitors this time around. Last year, I mostly met people here from overseas or Irish fleadh veterans. This year there seemed to be far more Irish people around who weren’t necessarily into trad music, didn’t play an instrument themselves, or sing or dance, but were just coming for the craic.
I was amazed at the amount of people down from Dublin on different days that had never been to a fleadh before, or at least not since the 1960s or 1970s. Most said that they were here because they had seen the fleadh on TV last year, and because Mullingar was so easy to get to.
The trains were full on Saturday. One couple I spoke to, day-trippers from Kilcock, had intended to travel by rail but had to drive down because they couldn’t get on the train when it arrived; it was too crowded.
I met lots of people who were originally from Mullingar but hadn’t been back in decades and sometimes not since they lived here, even though they moved away when they were children and were of retirement age now.
One man, whose family left town in the 1970s, remembered the 1963 fleadh. He was only four or five then but could still recall the sense of unease among his parents and how they seemed afraid to let him and his siblings outside.
People arrived by boat as well as train, were parking their cars or their campervans in nearby towns and cycling in along the greenways. Lots of people ended up at the fleadh almost accidentally – they’d never heard of a fleadh before and just happened to be in Ireland while it was on and were advised by other people to attend.
I met at least two sets of people from the UK who were told by Irish relatives or friends – not from or living in Mullingar – that they should go to the fleadh while they were travelling around Ireland. A lady from London asked me how to pronounce ‘fleadh cheoil’ – she had been saying ‘flee chool’. A pair of French tourists were advised by a French fiddler they know at home to go to the fleadh when he heard they would be in Ireland.
I met a mother and daughter from Saint John, New Brunswick, Canada, which is called ‘Canada’s Most Irish City’. The daughter was dancing on the Gig Rig and she had learned Irish dancing from a lady living in Saint John who was originally from Ireland and gave Irish dancing lessons for free.
Another lady who was dancing on the Gig Rig was shopping for a wedding dress while in town. She had met her future husband at a previous fleadh.
A gentleman from Dublin was trying to track down a man from Mullingar whose surname was Maher (but pronounced ‘Marr’) that he met and had great chats with while they were both in Beaumont hospital in Dublin several years ago. He was asking around to see if anyone knew of Mr Maher or knew where he lived.
A lady called Paula who travelled from Sligo was particularly interested in the set dancing, and seeing “how it’s meant to be done”. She got into set dancing because at social dancing you have to wait until someone asks you to dance but with set dancing you don’t have to do that, you can just get up and start dancing.
Paula attends set dancing classes at home but said that when you’re 50-odd (which the age she started at), they don’t “really bother trying to teach you properly”. She was delighted to see the competition dancers giving the floor a “proper hammering” and said she’d “love a lesson in hammering”.
I met several musicians who don’t compete, just come down with an instrument every year and join sessions spontaneously, and love doing that.
They all remarked on how Mullingar was the perfect venue in terms of how the town is designed. Some groups of musicians had met at previous fleadhanna and reunited for a session in Mullingar.
Many remarked on the positive impact of the fleadh on the local economy, but I don’t think they realised the boost that came in the form of coins alone, as children spent their significant busking earnings, mostly in coppers, in the town’s shops, cafés and restaurants.
The locals I met were having a brilliant time, from kids that were cleaning up busking, to adults wandering around, and bumping into people they might not have seen in years. There seemed to be a sense of pride in the town. Everyone said they would miss the fleadh next year, but hoped we might find a way to “keep her lit”.