The man fixing reflectors onto the "telegraph poles" had his own weather forecast for us. "The last quarter moon falls on Saturday this week, and if the weather is unsettled that day, then through every Saturday for the rest of the month the weather will stay unsettled. It's how the fishermen knew the weather."

We had just come off a walk up a green road to the top of one of the Burren hills, to spectacular views of the limestone uplands and green fields of this part of northwest Clare. Cuckoos were calling, the sun was sometimes shining, a pair of German backpackers passed us. Robin is with me now, she's pretty logy from the jetlag and keeps falling asleep at odd times.

I photographed classes at the Clare Music Education Centre in Ennis last evening. Young fiddlers, the youngest couldn't have been more than 8 or 9, learning their first licks. I switched from a wide-angle to a short telephoto, and the shot I came away with is of two sets of fingers on a fiddle fingerboard, the larger fingers guiding the tiny ones to the proper position. An older group, 12 to 14 year-olds, practising session tunes, well up to speed, as the teacher alternately encouraged and reproached them. My superficial sense of the teaching style here is that much is expected of students. Teachers don't talk down to them, and the kids really want to do well. It's one reason for the Celtic Tiger economy, the schools are demanding and Ireland has perhaps the best-educated population in Europe.

March 2000