Tag Archives: Jenny Sturgeon

Tha ceilidh agam

Ceilidh. In Gaelic, A’ cèilidh is a verb. Though it is a noun. Its meaning settles upon ‘visit’ in the Gaelic-English and English-Gaelic dictionaries – distinguished, therefore, from ‘meeting’ – cruinnich, coinnich.

Then again – there is ‘the session’ – seisean (which seems like an interloper).

Ceilidh slips back and forth across the boundaries eadar gaidhlig agus beurla like a smuggler, a drover, a reiver.

The Dee and Don Ceilidh Collective launched its programme of 6 weekend workshops, ceilidhs and sessions on Saturday 14th May with a spectacularly successful and enjoyable series of events in Ballater on Aberdeenshire’s Deeside. Thanks to the effort and leadership of the Collective’s volunteers and the sponsorship of Crerar Hotels, participants enjoyed a range of workshops in fiddle, small pipes, whistle, guitar, singing and song writing in the course of a long hot Saturday in Ballater’s Victoria and Albert Halls and the Deeside Inn. The professional tutors at the event included Fraser Fifield (pipes and whistles), Jenny Sturgeon (songwriting), Paul Anderson and Averill Blackhall (fiddle), Shona Donaldson (singing) and Pete McCallum (guitar).

The workshops were followed by a spontaneous session of music and singing and rounded off with an evening of dance, music and more song in a ceilidh which blended the dance music of The New Distillery Band with contributions from workshop tutors and participants.

I am a Scots-speaking Scot – which might be almost (though not quite) indistinguishable from Anglophone bit isnae really. Despite a vocabulary of Doric and a few stumbled phrases of Gaelic, I lack the easy fluency and interchangeability of language I have so often admired in others I have met on my travels – South Americans, Africans, Asians, Europeans.

Despite having danced at ceilidhs since I was a child – An Comunn Ghaidhealach ceilidhs in Whiting Bay on Arran where the Highland Schottische was an endurance test and Strip the Willow was (then as now) a blood-sport – I’ve never sung nor played. Until this week and then briefly, meekly (I hope). And I hope to again.

A fiddle is an awesome thing. The small pipes – wondrous. The human voice…

People come together. People play and sing and people dance. Ordinary people who practice and play and feel abashed in the presence of more experienced musicians…but who play in any case to be a part of it.

It is not a ‘professional’ activity…though excellence deserves its due and tariff.

It is a session, a meeting…a visitation.

There is a sense that a ceilidh might be an entertainment – like a Burns Supper or a discotheque (yes…I know…who goes to discotheques these days?). The word which is omitted though – for it might be seen as a profanation – is comanachadh. Is that too blasphemous?

Ceilidh agus comanachadh.

Dipping, ineptly, into the flow of music in the session on Saturday, in the company of like-minded strangers – yes, I was visiting but equally I felt community, communion. Comann. Collective.

Tha ceilidh agam
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